RISK✵ lrh

3 | Claims and Counterclaims

Ashton had led the boys to a bookstore; he explained he knew someone who knew someone who would be able to get them into the library after closing. However, given how darkness and night crept up on the three, Luke couldn't shake the feeling that his life was a rendition of a flawed student film or creative writing project.

It was cold, windy, and dark. The streets, fortunately, cleared up – individuals other than students or the regular locals opting to retire to their hotels or take a train elsewhere. And to think, back home in Australia, the skies would be clear, and people would know what the sun looked like – he'd rather be in the sun believing his life was an indie passion project because it'd at least be more fun.

Ashton walked through what Luked hoped was an ironic indie bookshop-slash-coffee-house-bar and let the warmth and aroma of ground coffee beans and steam surround them. A few stragglers linger at the tablets, laptops, notebooks, and empty coffee cups.

"This looks like a place you'd like," Michael commented, looking around and mindlessly flipping through the pages of a book on the display table. He glanced at his blond friend, who shook his head in response, "Except you don't read." Michael snorted, redirecting his attention to Ashton, who approached the counter.

Luke was too busy skimming book titles he'd never heard of by authors he had heard of to notice the dark-haired girl behind the counter – whose eyes threatened to light up at the sight of the man who approached. Michael, however, saw her familiar face and lightly smacked the back of his hand on Luke's chest.

"What?" Luke said, narrowed gaze at Michael before shifting to the girl behind the counter. That was a pleasant surprise, possibly the best part of his day. An invisible string tugging at the corner of his lip, "Well, at least we're getting somewhere."

Was Luke expecting Mia to know Ashton – or vice versa? No, because what were the chances? In a school with nearly 30,000 students in a town with roughly five times that amount, the possibility of Mia being the person Ashton knew was slim – doable, but very slim. Although, the blond had no complaints.

"Hi, Ashton," Mia smiled, (literally), dropping whatever she was doing to tend to the register. "How are you doing?" She said casually, despite her inner thoughts rushing a million miles per hour with comments and remarks such as I should've untied my hair, or, my eyeliner doesn't look good today.

"I'm alright, you know me. Never a bad day, really." He replied, reciprocating a smile – except his smile did not look larger than life, like the one Mia wore. "I finished reading that book you recommend," he said.

Luke thought that Ashton was trying to disarm the girl's guard with casual pleasantries or that the guy was just friendly. Based on the little information he had on Ashton, Luke could assume it was the latter, but no one is blind enough not to see how smiley Mia is—how painfully attentive and invested she was just by Ashton's presence.

"Really?" She said with an unjustified excitement, "What did you think?"

"It was exactly as you said it'd be," he said, "brilliant and masterfully written. And the concept, the concept! The story of a serial killer on death row told through the eyes of the women in his life." He continued, "I also enjoyed reading your notes at the end. Don't worry; I'll get the book back to you tomorrow – are you working tomorrow?"

Luke had to fight the urge not to roll his eyes or scoff, but watching the painful interaction between a girl – who harbours a crush – and a guy – too blind or simply evil enough to ignore the signs – was not what the blond wanted to spend any more time doing.

"Oh, no, I'm working on Sunday."

"Then, you'll see me on Sunday with your book – I might actually just hang out here the entire time and work on my dissertation."