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Panic. Run. Flag down a cab. Forget about technology.
Which also means that by the time I remember I can do that, by the time I take out my phone to call the library, I’m already there.
Brilliant.
Just fucking brilliant.
My hands are shaking as I pay the cab driver and scramble out, almost faceplanting on the sidewalk.
Real smooth, Sawyer. After getting Bee to café-sit and everything, knock yourself out on the sidewalk and not even make it into the goddamn library, why don’t you? A perfect ending to a crappy day.
On cue, I sneeze.
Awesome.
Hurrying into the library, I see the poster for our meeting and all but run in the direction the arrows point to.
I open the door and burst into the room. “Hi, sorry I’m late?—”
“So very late.” The librarian, a stuffy beta with a stick a yard long up his skinny ass glares at me. “Don’t you know it’s rude to be late to the events you organize?”
I sigh. “Hear me out before you read me the Riot Act.”
His glare doesn’t abate. “Do go on. We’re all ears.”
“I…” I glance around the room as I open my mouth to enumerate my woes of the day, when I see her. That girl. Brinlee. I snap my mouth shut. “No… nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Nothing to say. I’m late and I apologize. Let’s start, shall we?”
He rolls his eyes and gets up. “The floor is yours. I’ll get back to work.”
9
BRINLEE
The way Sawyer’s face lights up when he sees me makes me smile. Makes me decide it wasn’t a mistake, coming to this meeting.
Yet, an instant later, his face tightens into a frown and he looks away, stammering something to the librarian about being late, and sits down as the librarian departs, his shoulders tense.
He looks good, though. God, he always looks good. His handsome face is striking, with those large eyes and the dark hair framing it. It’s longer than other times, curling at his ears and neck. And I love the way he moves. He isn’t muscular like some betas or alphas, but he’s packing a lot of energy in that slender frame.
The way his shirt clings to his upper arms and shoulders is distracting. He’s so masculine, and yet so… fine. Beautiful. Like an exotic creature, like an elf.
Be serious, I tell myself. He’s not an exotic pet for you to goggle at. And he can’t be anything to you.
Not as things stand.
Even if he doesn’t have a pack. Which is improbable, but you never know. He doesn’t look much older than twenty. He may not want to rush into a serious relationship.
And why am I thinking about Sawyer and packs?
“So let’s talk about fantasy romance,” he says, his warm voice washing over me, gripping me like a hand, grounding me, mesmerizing me. “It was one of the topics requested by you. By the way, welcome new people.”
He doesn’t glance at me this time.
What am I even doing here? I had a break between the hospital and work and decided to pop by.
