Page 66 of Hurt Me Not
The library used to be one of my favorite places, but now, with the threat of midterms upon me and the constant buzzing of students gossiping just a few feet away, I was finding out I much rather preferred Emerson's apartment.
It was even worse that it was a student from my class.
I particularly liked our professor, so I didn't like hearing people talk shit about him all the time. But I was a little biased, given that he had been the first one to welcome me back with open arms after everything that happened.
He didn't hover or fuss too much, though. He just checked on me periodically before or after class, but for the most part, he left me to myself.
That's what I enjoyed about it.
Even though I was embarrassed he knew, his easygoing personality made me comfortable.
I tried to focus on my computer screen as I went through last week’s lecture notes for the fifth time, but none of it really stuck. My mind was too busy focusing on other things.
Emerson.
We hadn't talked much since my… admission. Well, unless you counted the dirty talk while we fucked.
Since that night, she hadn't mentioned my stalker either. We fell back into our rhythm of working, going home together, fucking, and starting it all over again the following day.
My days passed by in a blur. Maybe it was because of how busy I was, or maybe it was because finally, even with the threat of my stalker coming back hanging over my head, everything was coming together.
But still, there was one lingering thing that bothered me.
She didn't actually say it out loud.
I mean, she said I was hers. She said I didn’t have to be jealous. That I was the only woman on her mind. It was even implied in the way she was wearing the bracelet I’d made, but I still wished she had said… more.
When I told Emerson I liked her, I couldn't tell if she was happy about it until she kissed me. Her face had been blank, her usual tells gone. I had been scared that she would reject me.
Do you understand what I'm saying, Pearl?
I did. I really did. I knew Emerson wasn't the type of person to confess she was in love with me just like that, though that didn't stop me from hoping she would. It was the romantic in me.
You told her youlikedher. That’s not very romantic either.
I guessed we both had some issues to work through, and mine were probably related to never having felt loved growing up.
My guilty pleasure throughout school had been reading romance books of any kind. Anything I could check out of the library, I would. I loved seeing two people fall for each other and what they were willing to do for each other. The yearning. The way that they were able to accept the other person, no matter their flaws.
It made me believe it was out there, but it also made me… sad in a way. Because a part of me truly believed that I would never find something like that for myself. That I would only get to live through the characters in those books.
I ran my hand over my face, tiredness weighing on me.
Maybe I should just give up. I’m getting nowhere with these notes.
I grabbed my phone and paused my music, only to regret it immediately when voices filtered back through.
“No, I swear it's her. My sister was in a class with her last time.”
“Do you think she had him do it for her and cried wolf at the end?”
A giggle at the end of the sentence had my blood running cold.
They’re talking about me.
“There's this rumor that he was a teacher’s aide, and that she went to him to ask for help in taking out the competition. Apparently, she was on some type of scholarship or something that required her to be at the top of the class.”
I closed my eyes, wanting to leave, but I was mortified. I couldn't move from my seat, especially since I would have to pass the coworking space where they were.
