Page 46 of The Alchemists

“What is this place?” he breathed quietly, looking at the mirrors, the lamps, the couch and desk, as indigo-wrapped midnight rubbed up against the windowpanes.

“It was storage, I think?” she said at a normal level, switching on one of the lamps. “Then I think it got forgotten.”

“Did you bring all this up here?”

The corner of her mouth quirked. “Over time. This is my favorite place on campus.”

“No kidding—it’s incredible.”

She ducked, hiding her face as she pulled her portable speaker out of her bag and switched it on.

“What are all the mirrors for?”

“Dance,” she said, looking at him like he had two heads. Then, “The library closes in thirty minutes, after that it’ll take security about an hour to lock up.”

“Won’t there be wards, and…I don’t know, lasers?”

“Lasers?” she laughed. “No lasers. Don’t worry, I’ll handle it. I’ve been sneaking around after hours for years.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” he said earnestly, “about this place.”

Lily gave him an odd look, but not an unpleasant one. “I wouldn’t have brought you up here if I thought you would.”

Seb looked around, then at his watch. “So, what should we do until then?”

LILY

“Iwas going to dance,” she said, surprising herself. Her secret room, having the upper hand for once, was making her bold.

“You’re not tired?”

She shrugged. “Sure, but it’s dance or stare at my phone for the next ninety minutes. If I look at another one of those letters I’ll start weeping blood.”

“Noted.”

Swinging her arms, she kicked off her shoes and began stretching to undo the hunch of studying. Out of the corner of her eye, in the glow of his phone, she saw him half-watching her. A few weeks ago, his gaze would have sent cold anxiety rushing through her, but now it flooded her with secret warmth. Already, spending time with him had left its prints on her, subtly nudging her in a different direction. She didn’t hate it.

He respected her. She wasn’t sure why, exactly, wasn’t sure what he saw in her, but she thought soon she might even be able to see it too. When she was with him, she felt known, all the way through to her core, and she was pretty sure that feeling might be friendship.

“Want to join me?” He had dropped the pretense of his phone and now openly studied her, his profile sharp and hawk-like in the night.

“I’ll keep working on the letters. I feel like I’m close.”

She closed her eyes, drifting to the music. Then she started to dance, trying to bring a phrase that had been burning in her mind, her joints, for days now, into the light. Her sock feet whispered across the cement floor, raising dust as she spun, dipped. Sometimes dance felt like this when she had an idea—like if she couldn’t get it out of her and into an eight-count, it would consume her from the inside out.

“What are you working on?” Sebastian asked her from the couch.

Lily jolted. Sometimes when she danced, time slipped away as she found her center. How long had she been working? What time was it?

“Oh.” She blinked, reacclimatizing to reality. “It’s nothing, just an idea I had.”

“Are you in Rep?” He meant the Windermere Repertory Dance Program. She wasn’t. She’d never auditioned.

“It’s not for anything, just for me.”

“It’s good.” He unearthed himself from the couch and shucked off his sweater, revealing a white T-shirt and toned biceps as he joined her in the middle of the vast room. “What if you did this here, instead?” he said, offering a transition that was somehow exactly what her subconscious had been looking for. She knew she was frowning at him, but she couldn’t help it.

She tried it. It fit. “Thanks.”