Not A Peep: A Forbidden, Bully, Dark College Romance, page 2
“We won’t leave tonight.” Pianna sighs and looks around. “We’ll leave in a month. That gives me, or one of the Firebirds, time to ‘accidentally’ find Joey at his place and report it to the police. If they find Joey before me, they’ll think it’s a hit from another gang and then can go to war with whoever they think is behind it. I’ll mourn a bit before you and I leave. No one would blame me for wanting to move out of the town where my boyfriend was killed, and everyone knows that we do everything together.”
As much as I want to, I don’t hate this plan.
“We’ll have to clean up our mess,” I start slowly. “I can sell my car…”
“I’ll burn the baseball bat and get new carpet in the house,” Pianna adds quickly. “And I’ll wear makeup until this is healed.”
With a deep breath, I straighten my shoulders and nod. “Ok, then it’s settled. Let’s go dump his body.”
One
Three and a half years later
“And that is one happy student,” I declare proudly, sliding back into my seat behind the information desk.
My co-worker, Jonathan, glances up from his computer screen to watch the student I’d just helped precariously carry a stack of books over to one of the multiple worktables that sit in front of us. As always, Jonathan Bruce is dressed to the nines. Today he wears a pink bow tie with white polka dots, his pristine pale blue button-up looks new, and his pants are freshly pressed. His goatee is well-groomed, and his bald head shines under the bright lights. I swear he buffs it. Out of all the librarians here, Jonathan dresses the best.
“You do too much.” With that, he continues to tap away on his keyboard.
I scoff. “Excuse me? Too much? That student has every book pertaining to the migration of whales and other mammals of the sea. How is that ‘too much’? I say that’s ‘incredibly efficient and helpful’.”
Jonathan pauses his typing to shoot me an incredulous look before rolling his eyes and getting back to his task at hand.
“As I said before, ‘too much’. That kid is going to crack open one book, get bored or distracted by something on her phone, and then stare at her screen rather than the words on those pages. Then we’ll have a massive stack of books about the mammals in the sea that we’ll have to put away later.”
I glance at the student who already has her phone out, the pile of books sitting on top of the table go untouched.
“You’re wrong. She’s going to be super productive in her studies.”
“It’s the third week of the Fall semester. If she isn’t a goodie, goodie student then she’ll forget she even has those books in the next five minutes.”
I sigh. He’s probably right. Having been here for nearly three years, I’ve begun to notice the habits of the students here at Groveton College. The first few weeks back at school, students are eager to get their work done, finishing projects way before deadlines approach, and are fully committed to studying. They come here, to the Atwater Library situated on the campus, where they fill up all the tables on the first floor, then make their way up here to the second floor, where more tables, both large and small, are clustered around. The third floor usually remains relatively unvisited, even when the swell of students pack every corner of the first and second floors.
But after the first few weeks, the number of students that visit dwindles. Why study when you could go to a party? Hang out with friends? Why not go do anything other than sit down and learn? Right now, we’re at the dwindling phase.
Soon, the library will be relatively empty.
There are a few students, however, that make it a point to come to study here. Whether it’s because it’s quieter than a dorm room, or the internet is better, or they’re just the type A kind of people, who knows? But in any case, they are here, and they’re working hard.
There’s one student in particular that I can count on showing up every Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday afternoon who stays until nearly six o’clock, with his head in a book or scribbling furiously in a journal. I shoot said student a furtive glance.
His permanently tanned skin has grown darker over the summer, probably from being outdoors. He looks like an outdoorsy kind of guy, with thick arms, a wide muscular chest, and a shirt that’s just snug enough to tell he has muscles covering his stomach. He’s gotten a haircut, as most students do, at the start of a semester. His dark hair is cropped a few inches shorter than normal, but the curls are still present. Good, they give him a more boyish appearance. I like them a lot. I like this so much, in fact, that I’ve dubbed him ‘Mr. Curls’ in my head.
I probably like them a little too much, if I’m being honest with myself. In fact, the whole student is just a beacon of deliciousness. It’s difficult to tear my eyes away from him whenever he strolls in and plops down.
Cut it out. Ogling a student is what caused the last librarian to lose her job here, I remind myself severely.
I know this information not from the faculty gossip, but because I caught her and a student from a local high school, who, it turns out, was only just sixteen years old, in the act. Since I moved to Groveton, Texas, I’d been pinning for a job here in the Atwater Library. So, when I stumbled upon Jackie Hoisman and her young suitor, it was like the whole situation just fell into my lap. I’d watched as the woman, who was just a few years older than me, was thrown up against a tree at the park near my apartment complex and fucked thoroughly by the male student. Both had been so swept up in the moment, thinking they were hidden away, just out of sight of other park dwellers, that they hadn’t seen me on my walk.
In a desperate and devious act, I’d used what I’d seen to blackmail Jackie into quitting, which then provided an opening here at Atwater. It was a shitty move, one that I’m definitely not proud of or will ever do again. Then again, because Jackie had been so scared of being exposed, she left Groveton, Texas, altogether, leaving her student behind. Technically, I saved a kid from being molested. Despite how illegal and immoral my blackmailing had been, ultimately, no one got fired or hurt. And, as long as no one ever finds out about it, I won’t ever get in trouble. It’s a win-win for everyone because if I had been a decent person, it could have ended up differently for all parties involved.
Peeling my eyes away from the student who I’ve been daydreaming about on the daily for the past year, I go back to clicking away at my computer. In my pocket, my phone vibrates. I know who it is, but I ignore her for now. Pianna is just going to have to wait. My boss, Ms. Barbara, is around today and she’s a stickler for no phones out at the information desk.
My phone vibrates again.
Then again.
And again.
Shit. Pianna must be having one of her panic attacks. I swallow down my desire to scurry into the break room to help her. As much as I want to, I can’t help her at the moment. She’ll have to cope without me. Distracted by the vibrating in my pocket, I don’t see the young student in front of me until they lean forward to capture my attention.
“Excuse me?”
I pull my eyes away from my screen and look up at the young lady standing on the other side of my desk. Excitement hums in my veins and chases away my concerns for my friend.
My smile is large and genuine as I ask, “Can I help you?”
“Um, yeah, I need a book about—”
She babbles away nervously, unsure about what exactly she needs, but after stammering over her words, I figure it out for her and leave my desk to direct her over to an aisle of books about geology. When I return, I can’t stop the way my eyes search out and land on the student sitting a few tables down with his head buried into his book.
I don’t see his friend until it’s too late.
The new guy strolls over to the table and flops down beside him, his chair facing my direction from across the table. I know this young man. Not personally, I don’t make it a habit to befriend students. But you can’t miss his face plastered on the posters around school. Grant Gipson, Groveton College’s star running back on the football team, is a striking figure. Tall, lean, and classically handsome with high cheekbones, a pronounced jawline, and fair complexion, Grant is literally every college girl’s dream guy.
I suppose I can see the appeal, though there’s something about him that makes me uncomfortable. It could be the fact that he’s currently pinning me with a hard look, having caught me gawking over his friend from afar. My face heats but I school my features into one of indifference and sit back down behind my desk.
There isn’t any reason to be embarrassed about looking around my library. Mr. Curls’ friend doesn’t need to get all protective when I’ve done nothing wrong. I should’ve expected Grant though. He usually shows up at the end of Mr. Curls’ study session and they leave together. Time must have gotten the best of me tonight.
Next time, if I’m going to admire Mr. Curls from afar, I need to be more vigilant about those around him. No need for rumors to get started.
“Hey, you,” I greet as Pianna appears on my phone screen.
“Are you just now getting off work?” she asks, moving around so that her image is blurred for a moment.
I toss my keys into the small bowl that sits on the console table and place my purse beside it.
“Kind of? I got off work but then I decided to treat myself to dinner on the way home.”
Pianna stops moving to give me an excited grin. “Please tell me it was with a guy?”
I snort. “Nope. It was just me, myself, and I. The best company, besides you, that there is.”
“Ugh, you really need to date. You’re going to end up old and crotchety if you’re not careful,” Pianna teases. “Oh! Is that a new couch?”
As I roll my eyes, I flip the screen of my phone around so she can see the inside of my small one-bedroom apartment. While the complex is older than most of the others in the area, it’s also nearly student-free, which is exactly what I wanted when I moved in. While I don’t mind helping them at work, living around college students is a nightmare I refuse to tolerate. I’ve had enough of those since that fateful night at Pianna’s house to last me a lifetime.
“Nope, not a new couch, but a new throw and a few new pillows.”
While the kitchen is outdated and the carpet could be replaced, the rest of the apartment looks like it could be pulled directly out of a magazine. As a former real estate agent, I have an eye for how things should be staged. There shouldn’t be too much clutter, but it shouldn’t feel sparse. Colors should be neutral. There can be a personal touch here or there, but not too many for people to gain too much insight into your life. Glancing around at my space, I know I’ve nailed it.
“God, I need you to fly over here and do up my place as nice as yours,” Pianna sighs longingly.
I smile. “I do have better style than you.”
“When it comes to interior decorating, I’ll agree with you.”
We both chuckle as we move about our own separate spaces. We could’ve been living together. That had been the plan when we left Cohawk three and a half years ago. But it didn’t take us long before we both realized that a fresh start meant something different to each of us. I wanted peace and quiet, community and stability. Pianna, on the other hand, wanted a nightlife, excitement, unpredictability. So we’d gone our separate ways with the promise to stay in touch. It was scary at first, being without her. Having grown up together, Pianna and I hardly went a day or two without seeing one another. We relied on each other emotionally probably more than what is considered healthy, and we still do.
Especially since we both carry some heavy scars that had formed the night we killed Joey. Speaking of scars…
“I saw your texts earlier. They came in so quickly I thought you were having another meltdown,” I tease, hoping that keeping my tone light won’t trigger one in the moment.
“Oh crap, I didn’t even think how my messages would come across since you couldn’t read them! I’m sorry! I was just excited about my promotion.” Pianna blows me a quick kiss. “I won’t do it again unless I have a panic attack.” Before I can assure her that it’s fine, she continues, “So I have some more news,” Pianna announces as I make my way toward the only bedroom in the apartment.
“Tell me about it while I get out of my work clothes.”
I throw my phone onto the bed and immediately begin to strip. While Jonathan may be the best dressed at work, I try to be a close second. My shirt goes first, then my skirt. I barely glance at myself in the full length mirror propped in the corner as I move toward the dresser. No need to focus on the parts of me I’m not comfortable with. Particularly my soft stomach and thunder thighs. One day I’ll lose weight, but for now, I’ve come to accept my pear shape.
“I met someone.”
I bite back a heavy sigh of disapproval. Pianna jumps from relationship to relationship like a frog crossing over lily pads.
“Tell me about him.”
“Well don’t sound too thrilled, Bri.”
I roll my eyes as I slip on my pajamas. “I was excited about the first ten. You’ve officially made it to thirty men that you have met since we’ve been apart.”
“This one is different!”
I grab my phone off the bed and head to the bathroom. “Send me a picture and tell me about him.”
My phone vibrates even before I’m done talking.
“There!” Pianna chirps happily. “His name is Miguel, and he’s gorgeous, nice, funny, and did I mention gorgeous?”
As I remove the minimal makeup I wear to work, I pull up the picture and stare at the Hispanic man in the photo. He’s attractive, with long hair tied back into a man bun, tattoos crawling up his neck, and a warm smile. Compared to the other men she’s dated, he’s definitely a looker.
“He looks cute.”
“Oh my god, he’s amazing, Briella.”
As Pianna dives into how amazing Miguel is, I brush my teeth and wash my face. When I’m done, I stand in front of the mirror and let my thick curls tumble down my back as I loosen them from the severe bun I keep them in. My warm, medium brown skin is pink from being washed. I need to scrub a little lighter next time.
“He sounds great, Pianna. I hope he treats you better than the last guy.”
“He already is,” my best friend assures me. “Anyway, I’ll keep you posted. Now, when are you coming to visit me?”
For the rest of the evening, we talk. By the time I hang up, my heart aches. We may have our own lives, and we’ve grown less codependent on one another, but still, I miss Pianna. Maybe one day we’ll live near each other again.
Two
“Can you believe Ms. Barbara? She literally just bitched me out for ten minutes in front of everyone during that meeting!” Jonathan hisses under his breath from beside me.
“That’s Barb for you,” I mutter.
“Clearly she’s getting senile in her old age. I would never put books back where they don’t belong. I’m probably the most anal person about following the Dewey Decimal system.” His fingers slam down on his keyboard as he types something out in frustration.
I chuckle. Jonathan has been here a year longer than I have and loves books just as much as I do. The fact that Ms. Barbara railed him out for a mistake he clearly didn’t make was definitely wrong. If it was anyone, it was probably Dora. How she got a job here, I’ll never know but that woman is dumber than a box of bricks. Thankfully, she and Megan work the evening shifts so unless she needs to rearrange her schedule with Jonathan, I hardly ever work with her.
I smile over at him. “She’ll forget that she barked at you by lunch. Deep breath. It’s just the start of your shift.”
He slides one of his hands over his bald head before his dark brows come together. “She might forget, but I won’t. I’m going to eat those leftovers she brought in for lunch today.”
I laugh. It’s soft so as not to bother the students around us but it’s loud enough the student approaching us jumps a bit in surprise.
“Hi, can someone help me?” a girl approaches the counter by Jonathan whose visible frustration blinks away as he looks up.
“What can I help you with?”
Shaking my head in wonder at how easy it is for him to change his mood, I go back to work. I don’t get far. As he gets up, someone taps the desk in front of me. My fingers pause over the keyboard as I look up.
Right into the face of Grant Gipson.
He’s even more attractive up close. With a slightly crooked nose, auburn hair, and nearly the same color eyes, I feel like he’s the epitome of the student athlete. He’s leaner than his friend but there is some well-defined muscle there underneath his t-shirt. His smile is warm, and I’m eager to return it. But even as I do, there is a nagging feeling that something is off about this student. The hairs on the back of my neck rise as I give him my politest smile.
“Good morning, how can I help you?”
Grant doesn’t answer right away. His eyes trail over my face as he places both of his palms on the desk and leans his weight onto them. Though his smile doesn’t falter, somehow it seems to grow cold. I suppress the urge to shiver. What is it with this kid?
“I was wondering if you could show me where I’d find some books on international tax laws? I checked the library’s website, but when I went in search of the books I needed, they weren’t where they were supposed to be. Or maybe I can’t figure out the cataloging system here. Either way, care to help me out?”
I don’t even need to check my computer for this, I know exactly where they are. Flashing him a smile, I stand. Turning halfway around, I point toward the back of the second floor of the library.
“You’ll find everything you’ll need ten rows from the back wall on your right.”
“I was just there,” Grant admits with a forlorn sigh. “I think I may need to be shown.”
I could do that. Glancing over, I find Jonathan has disappeared. He must be helping his student find something. If I leave with Grant, I’ll be leaving the information desk unattended which is a big no-no. But it’ll only be for a few seconds, the books Grant needs are nearby.
