Reclaiming the Sand
Page 45

And I had done that in the most destructive way possible.
But that day at the stream I had hated Dania and Stu for hurting Flynn. And it was my one moment of courage.
I had run off with my so-called friends, leaving Flynn freezing in the stream. But the sudden over powering sense of shame had stopped me. Dania had asked what was wrong.
I told her that we couldn’t leave Flynn like that. That’d he’d freeze to death. Stu had called me a f**king pu**y. Then they started calling me a Freak Lover. And it had made me so incredibly angry. They had turned on me in an instant.
For a brief moment, I hadn’t cared. I had turned around and gone back to help Flynn. Stu and Dania’s taunts ringing loudly in my ears. And that had felt good. It felt right. Because I cared about him.
It was the last good day we had together. It was the last time I had spent with him unencumbered by my own shit.
It was the last day I had been truly happy.
So watching Dania’s passive threats had triggered inside me the instinct to fight and protect all over again.
And just like all those years ago, I had paid for it afterwards.
“I just keep running into you. If I didn’t know better, I’d think the universe was forcing us to be friends.”
I looked up at the sudden invasion of my personal space and bit down on my frustrated sigh.
At some point in the two weeks since I last saw her, Kara Baker had shaved her dreads. She was sporting a buzz cut so short that I could see her scalp. I wasn’t a big fan of the Sinead O’Conner look, but at least she had the head shape for it.
“Or you could just have a thing for stalking,” I remarked dryly, already resigned to at least fifteen minutes of asinine chitchat.
And honestly, Kara wasn’t too bad. She was chill and laid back, even if she was too damn nosy for her own good.
“Nah. If I wanted to stalk someone, it wouldn’t be a bitch with a bad attitude,” she quipped and I had to smile at her comment. She could hold her own, that’s for sure. I had to respect that.
“Fair enough,” I conceded and watched as she settled into the chair opposite me and pulled out a textbook.
“Whatcha workin’ on?” she asked, poking her pencil at my English book. I flipped over the cover so she could see it.
“Trying to write an essay on the fundamentals of personal liberty as found in the short stories of Kate Chopin,” I answered drolly.
Kara arched a blonde eyebrow. “Whoa, heavy shit. And you like that stuff?” she asked and I realized that yeah, I did. I was really enjoying my class. It allowed me to flex my brain in a way that working at JAC’s would never provide.
I didn’t have any opportunity in my everyday life to discuss the meaning of Byron’s poetry or to talk about the theme of greed in Shakespeare’s The Merchant of Venice. For the four hours a week I was in class, I didn’t feel like a useless failure. I felt competent and smart and Professor Smith seemed to think I actually knew what I was talking about.
Sure I’d always had Julie in my corner cheering me on, trying to build up my shaky self-esteem but I had never internalized any of it.
Until now.
“Yeah, I do,” I answered.
“More power to ya, I guess. I don’t have a head for that stuff. That’s why I’m going into political science. I much prefer the drama of lawmaking any day.”
Kara was a talker but it wasn’t overly obnoxious, as I had first thought. Her uncomplicated conversation was nice.
“So you’re going to be some Congressman’s bitch? That sounds like an HBO special waiting to happen,” I said, my lips curling into an awkward semblance of a smile. I didn’t get much practice at making small talk so I hoped I wasn’t rude or aggressive. My personality didn’t lend itself well to polite niceties.
“No way, I’m going to be the one making the laws, darlin’.” I snorted and looked pointedly at her baldhead.
“I can’t remember the last time I saw a female senator without hair and a tattoo up the side of her neck,” I observed.
Kara rolled her eyes. “Whatever. You’ll see. You’ll be voting for me soon enough.”
“You’d better have one hell of a platform if you expect my vote,” I said, looking back at my textbook, hoping to get back to my work. I had to meet my advisor soon.
“Legalization of marijuana and lowered drinking age for all!” she said, pounding her fist on the table.
I chuckled. “Well you’ll definitely get the pot head vote,” I muttered.
Our conversation dwindled after that, both of us getting back to our assignments. But it was cool having her sit there. She’d make random comments about her reading and I’d tell her to shut up. We had established a workable dynamic.
I looked up about halfway through writing my essay, my pencil poised over my paper. There was Flynn. He came into the library and spoke briefly with the young girl at the circulation desk.
He was dressed in his usual uniform of khakis and button down shirt. It didn’t matter how hot it was, he never wore short sleeves.
The girl was smiling at him and batting her eyelashes. Clearly for her, Flynn’s awkwardness didn’t overshadow his good looks. I felt a strange twisting in my gut as I watched her flip her hair and giggle. And even though Flynn wasn’t looking directly at her, I saw the soft curve of his smile. He seemed to like whatever she was saying to him.
“Earth to Ellie!” Kara called out, snapping her fingers in front of my face. I scowled at her, annoyed to have been caught staring.