The air feels sharper when Mara and I leave the café, like the rumors she dropped are still clinging to me; she walks at my side, her arm brushing mine every so often, her curls catching the light as we cross the square.
“You want to see the library?” she asks suddenly.
I blink at her. “The library?”
Her grin is easy. “Best place on campus, hands down. You’ll see.”
Part of me wants to say no, to keep my distance and avoid another complication, but Mara’s warmth is disarming, and before I realize it I’m nodding and letting her tug me along the path that veers off from the main hall.
The library rises out of the courtyard like a fortress—tall stone walls, arched windows, ivy clinging to the sides—yet inside it’s golden and quiet, with rows of shelves stretching up two stories, lamps cas
