Well, then. I stood there for a few minutes, not knowing what in the fresh hell to do with myself. I wanted to talk this out before I pursued it on the off chance that I was wrong or had missed something. There was also the chance that she would know more about Good Ol’ Mr. Jenkins than I did, like where he lived or worked or spent his down time. Any info at all would be helpful, to be honest.
But she obviously wasn’t in a helpful sort of mood. I wondered briefly if she’d left the window open on purpose just to screw with me, but then I realized that it was still seventy-eight degrees outside and giving me the cold shoulder was probably making her uncomfortably warm. Mad at me as she might have wanted to remain, I blew her a kiss she couldn’t see before turning around and walking my ass back home.
Chapter 21
I forced myself to go back to my bed. The book I’d been trying to get lost in was still sitting on my bed. I flopped down on the mattress, groaning loader than it screeched and pulled the book into my hands. With everything in me, I tried to focus on the words spilling off the page. Tried to think about everything and anything that didn’t have to do with Kash. The problem was, everything in me wanted to peek through the window to see if he was still out there waiting for me to change my mind. I’d known he would try something like this. No attempt to apologize, no contact all day, and now there he was at my bedroom window trying to pick up where we left off.
Unless he had come to apologize. I half-rose off the bed before I shook my head at myself and hunkered down under the covers, glaring at my book. I knew Kash better than that. He was expecting the whole argument to blow over. Brush it under the rug. Leave it so long that it would soon go forgotten. Maybe that had been my fault. When, in all the time that I had known him, had I ever insisted that he apologize to me or admit that he was wrong? Almost never. I let that boy get away with murder—I snorted at my own mental slip of the tongue.
Maybe I literally did.
I shut those doubts down as quickly as they occurred. I didn’t actually think he did it, I’d established that within myself long ago, I was just thinking with my anger. I had to focus, or any future conversations would only go around in meaningless circles.
Of course, I was pissed at him. Pissed at him for playing fast and loose with his freedom. Pissed at him for even considering going back to dealing. Pissed at him for behaving like a damn fugitive and trying to run away to Mexico. That was all, nothing more and nothing less. I was pissed. I held onto that, solidified it within myself, and took it to work with me the next day.
The library was quiet as usual all morning, with a handful of freelancers and retirees making up the majority, until two thirty when the high schoolers descended upon the building like a bunch of frantic locusts. Every class had some big project due Friday that they had all obviously forgotten about, and I was their designated savior.
“Yo, miss librarian,” some kid with a torn leather jacket and a pathetic excuse for a mustache said. “Can we get some help over here?” He mumbled something else and his friends laughed.
I glanced at him warily.
He was clearly the leader of the group—there were six of them, all obviously trying to look hard and tough. They leered at me, snickering amongst themselves as though the funniest thing in the world wasn’t the fact that they thought typing up some paper would be their tickets out of this town. I rolled my eyes. Ten bucks said they were about to ask me to find a book by I.C. Weiner or something.
I sucked in a deep breath and bit back my frustration.
“How can I help you?” I asked with a hint of warning in my tone.
“Yeah, um, we were just wondering—”
Snickers broke out around the table and he interrupted himself to glare at his friends. He looked back at me, a creepy grin on his peach-bristle face.
“Can you grab that book for us?” He pointed lazily at a green and gold book on the top shelf.
I blinked at him. “Is your back broken?”
His grin widened until every single one of his jagged, yellow teeth were on full display. “Maybe it is,” he laughed.
Wanting to get whatever this was over with, I did as he asked, stretching up to my tiptoes to grab the thing.
Snickers and whispers scratched the air behind me, and I realized that the leggings I was wearing weren’t quite opaque enough for the length of my mini dress. Heaving the book down quickly, I slammed it on the table between them.
“Estrogen: The Answer to Hot Flashes. Nice choice.” I raised a brow at the rapidly reddening teenager. “Anything else I can get for you ladies? I could grab Why am I Bleeding, or Self-Defense Against Breast Cancer, if you like. They’re right up here.”
“Aw hell naw…”
He and his cronies had a few choice words for me, but I ignored them, moving my attention to a table that actually needed my help. Remembering how teenage boys could be after being embarrassed, I kept half
