“I knew you would. I’ll ask Dallin and the guys. See you tonight.”
And he saw me, before he left me locked in a library. If Jeff and I had been trapped here in this library instead of Dax and me . . . that would’ve been fun. He would’ve already figured out how to slide down the wooden stairs or race the book carts down the hall. Jeff was the exact opposite of Dax. Jeff smiled easily and joked often, and when he was around everyone was always laughing. Dax was dark and serious and seemed to weigh down any situation.
Jeff. Where was he? Had something bad happened? Did he think I ditched out on him at the bonfire? Why didn’t anyone realize I was gone? It didn’t matter. Soon I’d have a way to let everyone know where I was. Soon I’d have a phone.
CHAPTER 4
The scene around me was hazy, blurry. The sensation was familiar, but my mind wouldn’t clarify what was going on. I was in a cold room with no windows or doors. It was like a big icebox. The second I thought it, the walls became slick with ice, the floor as well. Everything was covered in ice. My teeth began to chatter so hard they hurt. And then a musky scent enveloped me. Like one of Jeff’s hugs. And then Jeff was there, hugging me. The ice room disappeared, replaced by an endless green field. We stood in the middle clinging to each other.
“I liked you all along too,” he whispered. “I don’t know why it took us so long to admit it.”
“Because I was scared,” I said.
“Of what?”
What was I scared of? Letting someone close? Handing him the power to hurt me? Letting go of control? Possibilities don’t hurt as much as realities. Possibilities are exciting and endless. Realities are final. That had always held me back with Jeff, the thought that if I said how I felt and he didn’t feel the same way back, that would be it. There would be no more “what ifs,” no more “might bes,” no more dreaming.
Dreaming. That’s what this was. Just a dream. It was all just a dream. I needed to wake up now.
My eyes fluttered open. Sun shone through the upper windows, lighting the room. Disappointment weighed heavy on my chest. I may have been dreaming, but being trapped in the library hadn’t been a dream. I was still here. Still stuck.
With Dax. He was no longer lying on the floor. Where had he gone?
I sat up quickly and saw spots, the sleeping bag slipping off my shoulders as I steadied myself. His sleeping bag. He’d put his sleeping bag on me. I let it fall all the way to the floor and then stared at it lying there useless. I immediately missed its warmth.
It was eight o’clock and my stomach was tight from hunger. Nobody had come for me.
“Did the sleeping bag offend you?”
I let out a short scream. Dax sat in a chair across the room, his legs stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. He wore jeans and a long-sleeved black shirt. His dark hair was slightly damp and was drying in a thick wave. He had a shadow of growth along his jaw. He held an open book, propped against his chest. The position he was sitting in—one shoulder down farther than the other, the shadows playing on his face creating shapes of darkness, the contrast of the red book against his black shirt . . . something made me wish I had my camera.
“You shouldn’t sneak up on a girl like that.”
“I didn’t move.”
“I know. It was a joke. I just didn’t see you at first. Thanks . . . for the sleeping bag.” A chill went through me, betraying the fact that I still needed it. “I . . . I have to go to the bathroom.”
“No need for a running commentary.”
“I was just telling you . . . right.” I stood, pulled down my left pant leg that had somehow ridden up during the night, and went back to the restroom. The toilet seat was cold, and the mirror proved I was in worse shape than I’d thought. Mascara was smudged down both sides of my face, making my hazel eyes look darker than normal. My hair, perfect waves the day before, was now a tangled mess, and three days without face wash was going to cause the world’s worst breakout. I turned on the water and did my best job to clean up the stray mascara and rinse my mouth out with water.