The Boiling Point | ✔️

27 | mind games

SUMMER

Before I started studying with Grant, I never realized how similar libraries are to museums. Hushed and peaceful, an air of sophistication, creativity tucked into books instead of displayed on walls.

I've always been able to get lost in a museum for hours, so when Grant has left and I'm gathering my textbooks at the end of a tutoring session at lunch, I'm feeling more at peace than ever in this wood-paneled haven. Until a storm intrudes on the peace, splintering my haven with strikes of lightning.

Ashton strides through the door, finding me at a nearby table. "Are you seriously going on a date with Grant?"

"Shh!" Mrs. Campbell, the librarian, gives him a cold warning look, and he raises his hands in defense. She goes back to her busywork and he repeats the question, whispering it this time.

I skim over his heated expression. "What's it to you?"

"So it's true."

"Again, what's it to you?" I stuff my notes away, focusing on packing my bag.

His quiet, haughty laugh draws my attention back, ringing in my ears. "Wow. Didn't take you for the settling type."

"Excuse me?"

"Grant? Are you kidding?" Ashton snickers, sitting on the edge of the table. "He is so fucking boring, Summer. And old. Jesus, a real double whammy, huh?"

"He is not boring. And he's only thirty."

"Mm. So when he was graduating high school and playing the field, you were going into kindergarten and playing with dolls." He cocks his head, giving a sardonic smile. "Not creepy at all."

I feel my muscles tighten as I take in his unkempt figure, a flurry of thoughts running through my head. I haven't properly looked at him in days, and he looks bad. But even a bad-looking Ashton still looks good. Better than most people's good-looking days.

Dark bags hang under his eyes, his skin is washed out, and it's clear he hasn't shaved for a while. If you passed him on the street, you might mistake him for some rugged Hollywood actor shooting a gritty drama in the mountains of Cloverbrook.

I watch him slip his hands in his hoodie pockets, waiting for me to react. To defend myself. But there's nothing to defend. I like Grant, I passed my accounting test and we said we'd go out to celebrate, and Lola suggested a double date with her and Steven. That's it. I don't have to explain myself to a guy I've blocked out in every conceivable way a person can block another person out.

"Goodbye, Ashton," I say, making a beeline for the door.

"Why do you like him?"

I stop with gritted teeth, willing myself not to turn back. Just walk away. Don't feed into this.

"A guy as boring as that? There's gotta be something good that outweighs it. So why do you like him?" Ashton baits.

I glance at Mrs. Campbell and stifle the urge to yell an answer, instead taking a controlled breath. I turn and walk right up to where he's perched.

"Maybe because he's actually a decent person," I hiss. "Maybe because he's not a selfish asshole and he encourages me instead of turning everything into a goddamn competition."

Ashton's face darkens a shade as he slides off the table, locked on me. "You love competition. With him, you'd be bored out of your mind and you know it. He wouldn't even know how to handle you."

"Handle me? I'm not a freaking hot potato."

Voices echo from the entrance, causing my head to snap away from him. I catch a glimpse of a group walking in. Before I can register what's happening, I'm being whisked deeper into the library, stumbling along until Ashton presses me against a bookshelf.