Three hours later, I’m at the public library. It’s my sanctuary. Books don’t have hidden meanings. They don’t laugh at you behind your back. I’m shelving returns in the fiction section when I hear footsteps.
I pull a copy of The Great Gatsby off the shelf and hand it to him. “Short. Tragic. Rich people being sad. You’ll like it.” hayley davies pov
Davies. Not Hayley. Just my last name, like I’m one of the guys. Three hours later, I’m at the public library
He said my name. Just my name. And I stand there in the quiet aisle, holding that stupid romance novel to my chest, wondering if my heart has always been this loud or if he just taught it how to beat. Three hours later
