Page 38 of Don't Be in Love

“Alright, fine. We won’t talk about it.” She lifted her hands up in surrender. “Have you thought any more about what Sylvie said?”

“Every day. I can’t stop thinking that if she knows about Dorian, then someone else must know too.”

I had considered asking James about it. But that’d mean I was getting involved. And I was sticking by my rule to not get involved. Despite partially being involved.

“How would she know though? She’s probably just making an assumption because you guys are in the same class, and he sits right in front of you.”

“That’s possible. But why wouldn’t she have said something earlier then? It’s the middle of October.” I twisted the pearl bracelet clasped around my purse strap. “I’m nervous she saw us at the Townsen Dinner outside.”

“I mean you both made quite asplash.”

“I don’t think you’re funny.”

“You totally do. You’re just clouded with marketing jargon. Even if she did see you with him, it’s not a big deal. She’s obviously looking out for you.”

“There was just this…tone in her voice. It was different.”

“The Evil Queen different?” Her brow rose.

I threw my eraser back at her, knocking it off her shoulder. “It was odd. My gut is saying it was odd and that’s the only word I can come up with at this point.”

She blew out a breath of air. “Maybe Sylvie wants Dorian for herself.”

“Sylvie’s in her fifties,” I deadpanned.

“Don’t shame age gap relationships with older women and men of adult age, Adelaide. This is Dorian we’re talking about.”

“Dorian is twenty-two,” I deadpanned,again.

She continued on. “I’ve even seen my journalism professor whispering about student gossip with other professors. Dorian’s name always comes up. Gossip may be frowned upon ‘by the Board,’ but the staff is just as into it.”

“Mia, I think that the gossip around here is getting to your brain.”

“Fine.” She shrugged her shoulders and began collecting her pastel set of highlighters. “Don’t listen to thereporterin training. I will let you finish up and think about this situation more in peace. Your blueberry keychain is beginning to look tasty which means I need to get back and eat.”

She stood and shook her backpack, making enough room to slide her laptop in. “I’ll see you in a few hours?”

I lifted my laptop screen. Still black. It seemed like I’d be handwriting for the next hour.

“Yeah, I’ll head out soon. There’s leftover butter chicken in the fridge up for grabs by the way.”

“You’re the love of my life, Adelaide.” She twirled, her arm outstretched with a binder in her hand, almost completely whacking a bust statue off its pedestal.

I shot up from my chair—as if to somehow catch the statue from five feet away—right as she pulled her arm back like a rampant dog on a leash before anything could happen.

“I will be going now,” she said quietly, tiptoeing out of the library.

Adelaide. Adelaide. Adelaide.

Dorian’s voice was everywhere. Soft and swooping. His soothing tone spoke in cursive. It hooked onto my ears and hugged the back of my head. It even grazed my spine.

Adelaide. Adelaide. Adelaide.

I wanted to lean into it. Bottle it and attach it to my purse to listen to when the sway of the trees and the smell of the ink on a page weren’t enough to calm me. I wanted to know what it tasted—

Adelaide.

My shoulder blades struck the back of the wooden chair. Long pieces of black hair hung in my face like an ink wash painting. I swiped it away and was still met with darkness. I couldn’t even see the trees outside the windows. The only light in the library came from the antique lamp on my table.