Ruins of Temptation (Corium University Trilogy 4)

“Good. I know you’ll love the library. It’s where I spend a lot of my time. And Brittney is the best. She’s really cool.”

I wonder if her idea of cool and mine are even remotely the same. “Is she the librarian?”

“That’s only a small part of what she’s capable of. Believe me.” Yeah, I guess I’ll have to. Why does she sound so excited? I’ve never been able to stand people like her. She’s so fake.

It’s all worth it, though. And not only because this means I’m one step closer to living up to my promise. I can feel Quinton burning holes in the back of my head. He’s absolutely furious his little wifey is even speaking to me, much less acting so friendly.

So even though having her this close to me and forcing myself to have a conversation feels a lot like I’m getting my teeth pulled one at a time, I can put on a happy face without much effort. It seems like the better we get along with each other, the more pissed he gets. It’s sort of a bonus, in a way. I almost want to thank him for making my job easier.

When we enter the library, I have to take a second and look around. I can admit it’s striking, and I feel very small under its high ceiling. “Wow,” I whisper. “This is really nice.”

“You don’t need to whisper, you know,” Quinton mutters.

From the corner of my eye, I see Aspen look at him over her shoulder and roll her eyes. I have to pretend I don’t see, though, and again, I need to hide a smile.

“Aren’t you supposed to whisper in a library?” I ask.

“Yes,” Aspen assures me with a firm nod. “I always feel like I need to, as well.” Oh, goody. Something we have in common.

I’m ready to assume the place is empty until somebody pops up from behind the reference desk. Somebody with blue hair. Somebody whose smile falters a little when she catches sight of me. I’m guessing she knows who I am. I never had a chance here. Nobody is ever going to see me for me.

“Brittney, this is Delilah. She needed a little help finding her way here.” Something about the way Aspen speaks—slowly, clearly, deliberately—tells me there’s another conversation going on here. Be cool. Don’t make a big deal about it.

And Brittney picks up on the message, judging by the way her confusion seems to clear up. “Good to meet you, Delilah. It’ll be nice having somebody else around here every once in a while. Especially someone who likes books, which I’m assuming you do if you’re here?”

“It seems kind of empty in here,” I observe with a wince.

“Some people just don’t want to be exposed to literature.” It doesn’t seem to bother her too much. She shrugs it off. “Anyway, I’d love to show you around.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” I glance at Aspen, lifting my eyebrows. Brittney does the same.

“You know what? I think I’ll come with you guys.” And obviously, wherever she goes, Quinton goes. I wonder what that’s like. He must be obsessed with her. Nobody could say I have experience with healthy relationships, but even I see the red flags here. It’s like she can’t make a move without him.

Though I’m sure my presence has a lot to do with that. “Do you come here a lot?” I ask her while he glowers at me. I’m surprised he hasn’t dragged a finger across his throat yet.

“All the time,” Aspen says. “This place has been my refuge.” Right, because she was tormented way worse than I’ve been when she first came here. I remember hearing stuff about that. I guess this would make the perfect refuge, with no other students bothering to come in. It’s almost like nobody is actually here to learn. What a shock.

“Besides,” she adds, nudging Brittney. “It gave me the chance to make a good friend.”

“That’s good to know. Maybe I will, too,” I suggest with a shrug. Brittney winks at me, which seems like a pretty good sign. I guess she’s willing to take Aspen’s word for it, like if she thinks I’m okay, it’s good enough for her. She definitely can’t be paying any attention to Quinton, who is now almost audibly growling behind me. I can’t wait until I’m away from them, so I can laugh myself sick over it.

He needs to learn how to control his reactions rather than being so obvious—unless this is all an attempt at intimidating me, which is probably exactly what he’s trying to do. He has no idea who he’s dealing with if he thinks a little growling and a shove against the wall is going to make me break down. If everything that happened to me in that filthy, cold, lonely room wasn’t enough to do it, how could he break me down?