Definitely, Maybe in Love

debates. I wanted him to push my buttons and challenge my opinions until I got so impassioned that I wrestled him to the floor, pinned his shoulders down and—

“I’ve got my own reading to do,” he said, interrupting my runaway fantasy. “So let me know if you have a question.”

I nodded, wiped my palms on my jeans and stared down at the neat stack of papers. I read for a while, trying very hard to concentrate. A group of guys walked past the room and stopped right in front of the open door, having an animated and rather filthy discussion about the busty redhead working the circulation desk.

Henry scraped back his chair and walked to the door, giving the guys a look before pulling the door closed. His hand lingered on the knob and I couldn’t help noticing how his thumb brushed along the protruding lock button. When my gaze moved to his face, he was watching me. Slowly, steadily, my temperature started to rise, thinking of what we might be doing at that very moment…if only I hadn’t damaged my relationship with the one man I wanted to trust. If only.

“This floor is usually pretty deserted,” I observed, trying to keep myself in my chair.

“That’s why I chose it.” A shadow crossed his face and he dropped his gaze. “And it’s got the best vending machines. Hershey bars.” As he returned to his seat, I could almost catch a tiny glimmer in his eyes. Maybe he was also thinking about that chocolate bar we’d shared beside the campfire…barely a week ago.

“Henry,” I couldn’t help saying, though I had no idea how to continue.

He’d been typing something on his laptop, but turned to me. I could see the gold flecks in his eyes and the tiny freckles on his nose, the ones I’d traced with my finger while he’d hummed in my ear. I’d been so relaxed with him, so at peace…yet out-of-control, free of control in the most spectacular way.

My sudden need was so surprising, it almost scared me. But was it temporary? Would I forgive him now and resent him later? The thought of doing that to either of us made me physically ill. I wanted to trust him, wholly, so very badly. I wanted him like I’d never wanted anything in my life.

Maybe I wasn’t ready to act on that, but didn’t I owe it to both of us to say something? Talking…that used to be what we were good at.

“Henry,” I repeated, licking my dry lips.

He lowered his hands from the keyboard. “Yes?” He tilted his head, brows bent. “What’s—” Before either of us could continue, his eyes flashed to my cell sitting face-up on the table, ringing with an incoming call. My stomach turned to ice when a thumbnail-sized picture of Alex’s face appeared on the screen.

I glanced at Henry, who was staring at it. A second later, he closed his laptop and scooted back his chair. “I’ll let you answer,” he said, not looking at me.

“Wait.” I grabbed my phone and silenced the ringer.

“If you have questions about that,” he said, glancing down at the papers before me then walking to the door, “you can email.”

“Henry.” I held up my cell as evidence of…something. “It’s not what you think.” Right as the words left my mouth, the phone began ringing again. Henry’s dark eyes glared at the face pointed directly at him.

“Unbelievable, Spring,” he muttered, his tone angry yet detached. I’d never heard him speak like that before.

“What?” I flipped my phone over and looked at its face. It was Alex again.

We stared at each other until finally Henry clenched his jaw, opened the door and left. I watched him stride all the way across the room then round a corner toward the stairs. When I was conscious enough to realize that my phone was still ringing, I cocked my arm and threw it against the wall as hard as I could. It smashed apart, leaving a dent in the wall.

“Frack,” I yelled, slumping into my chair.

…

With back-to-back exams and a paper due, I couldn’t make it to the Apple Store for three days. I chose a white iPhone this time and one of those ultra-protective cases, as insurance for the next time I had the urge to hurl a two hundred dollar device against a concrete wall. I was dying to get home and charge it, feeling a little out of touch with the world.

I plugged it into my laptop then laid face down on my sheepskin rug. After a few minutes, I heard bleeps and chirps. I rolled over and grabbed my phone, watching the numbers of new emails appear on the screen. And one new text.

I sat up.

Tonight. Meet me at the library. Midnight. You know where. Please come, Spring.

The text had been sent an hour after he’d walked out of that study room…three days ago.

A tiny primal scream escaped from my throat as I stumbled to my feet, grabbing a jacket as I dashed from my bedroom. I’d had to run across campus plenty of times, but I think this sprint broke all my records. When I skidded around the corner, my heart tanked, finding the study room in the back corner dark and empty. Of course I didn’t expect him to still be there after three days, but I had to check. I leaned against the doorway and pulled out my phone, sliding my fingers down the face, not knowing what I should write back to him, but knowing I must.

Sorry, my fingers raced. Phone died, just got your msg. I’m at the lbry now. Can you meet?

Send.

<Message undeliverable>

I stared at the two words until they spun like a Ferris wheel. I needed to sit down before my knees gave out, so I walked into the dark room and slid into the chair Henry had used three days ago. There was no new writing on the whiteboard and the trashcan appeared untouched, pieces of my busted phone still in the carpet. The room probably hadn’t been occupied since our meeting.

I rested my elbows on the table and held my head, breathing in the smell of old books, dusty carpet, and the faintest hint of spicy aftershave…although that was probably my imagination.

When I opened my eyes, I caught a glimpse of something on the chair beside me, the one I’d used the last time I was here. I scooted the chair back to find a few sheets of yellow notebook paper neatly folded in half. No name on it, as if it was someone’s leftover trash.

But I knew better.

I grabbed the pages, five in all, flipped on the light and began to read.

Chapter 29

Julia lowered the pages of yellow paper and stared at me. “Alex did…this?”

I nodded, fingering my pillow case.

“It’s almost unbelievable.” She glanced over her shoulder, like she feared we might be overheard. But we were alone in my bedroom. Door closed, ladder reeled in. “Do you think it’s true?”

“It has to be,” I said. “For Henry to divulge this, especially about his sister.” I gestured at the three pages of his note in her hand, the pages she’d just read about his history with Alex Parks, the ones I’d read a dozen times since finding them the night before.

The other two pages of the note—the ones regarding Julia and Dart—were tucked in the back pocket of my jeans. Julia knew nothing about them, and I wasn’t sure when I should tell her or if I should tell her. I hadn’t told her anything about Dart yet.

Not even a week had passed since I’d returned home from spring break with the knowledge that Henry’d had a hand in their breakup. I’d read his explanation in the letter several times, but it still galled me. It was either a colossal misunderstanding (which I did not believe in) or Henry Knightly was a terrible judge of character and a huge buttinsky. Though that was a bit implausible, too, I had to admit.

“You’re sure he’s talking about Alex?” Julia asked. “He didn’t use any name in the letter but yours.”

“I’m positive. He left it in a study room where we were supposed to meet. I’m not surprised he was cryptic. He knew that I’d know who he was talking about.”

Julia frowned. “So you think Alex is capable of what Henry says?”