The Pages Within [BxB]

Encounter

I shouldn't even be here.

It's a Wednesday afternoon, and I'm sitting in the corner of the campus library, hidden behind a stack of books I've been pretending to read. I've been avoiding this place for weeks. The library feels too open, too exposed—too close to where everything is unraveling for me. But today, I needed the quiet. I needed a place where I could escape the noise in my head, where I could sit and not think about the team, Ava, or—most of all—Jason. Everything has been closing in, and the library seemed like the last place anyone would think to find me.

I've been here for over an hour, the textbook in front of me more of a prop than anything else. I haven't turned a page. My mind keeps circling back to that fight with Ava—the way her voice cracked when she asked if I still wanted to be with her. The truth? I don't know anymore. I don't know what I want. My life feels like it's tangled in knots, so tight I can't even begin to pull it apart. And no matter how hard I try to focus, the same thought keeps creeping in: Jason.

It's not just a name. It's a presence. A pull. Every time I think I've pushed him out of my mind, he surfaces again. I don't know what it is about him, but he's stuck there, in my head, and I can't get him out.

And then, like some twisted joke from the universe, I glance up—and there he is.

Jason.

He's standing by the stacks, flipping through a book like he hasn't got a care in the world. For a second, I freeze, my heart doing that stupid, traitorous thing where it pounds way too hard in my chest. My first instinct is to get up and leave, get the hell out of here before he sees me. But I'm stuck, rooted to my seat, staring at him like an idiot. That familiar tightness in my chest starts to creep in, and I hate how I can't tear my eyes away.

He looks just like he always does—messy blond hair falling into his eyes, an oversized sweater with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. He's standing there, lost in whatever book he's holding, and there's this quiet stillness about him. It's a calm I can't seem to find in my own life. And that's what kills me—because I'm drawn to it.

I should look away. I shouldn't be sitting here, staring at him like this. But before I can tear my eyes away, Jason glances up. And our eyes meet.

It's like the air shifts. Everything around me fades—the shuffling of pages, the soft murmurs of other students—and all I can hear is the pounding of my heartbeat in my ears. Jason doesn't react right away. He just looks at me, his expression unreadable. Calm. Steady. And for a moment, we're frozen in this weird tension that I don't know how to make sense of.

My mind's racing. Should I say something? Should I get up and leave before this gets more awkward than it already is? But before I can do anything, Jason closes his book, tucks it under his arm, and starts walking toward me.

Fuck.

I should move. Say something. Anything. But I'm rooted to the chair, my chest tightening with every step he takes. By the time he reaches my table, I'm practically holding my breath.

"Hey," he says, his voice soft, steady, like this is totally normal for him.

"Hey," I manage to choke out, my throat tight.

He pulls out the chair across from me and sits down, placing his book on the table. There's this silence between us, heavy and charged, like there's something we both feel but can't say.

"I've seen you around here before," Jason says after a moment, his tone casual, like he's just trying to make small talk. "Do you come to the library a lot?"

I shrug, trying to play it cool. "Sometimes. When I need to study."

He nods, glancing at the stack of books in front of me, though I can tell he's not actually interested in what I'm pretending to read. There's something else in his eyes, something I can't quite place.

Jason leans back in his chair, arms crossed, studying me with this curious gaze. "You're on the football team, right?"

"Yeah," I reply, trying not to sound as stiff as I feel. "Quarterback."

"Figured," he says, a faint smile pulling at his lips. "You've got that whole 'jock' thing going on."

I let out a laugh, though it feels forced. "Yeah, I guess."

Jason's smile lingers for a second before fading. He leans forward again, resting his arms on the table, and his gaze stays locked on mine. "You don't really seem like the typical football guy, though."

The comment throws me off. "What do you mean?"

He tilts his head slightly, studying me like he's trying to figure me out. "I don't know. You just seem... different."

Different. The word hits me harder than it should. It feels too close to the truth, like he's seeing something I've been trying to hide. I am different. I've been feeling it for weeks—the way everything in my life is slowly unraveling, how everything I thought I had together is slipping. And somehow, Jason—this guy who barely knows me—can sense it.

I clear my throat, trying to shake off the weight his words leave behind. "Yeah, well, I'm just trying to get through school like everyone else."

Jason doesn't look away. There's something in his eyes, something like understanding, but he doesn't press me on it. He just nods, letting the moment hang between us for a second longer.

After a beat, he glances down at the book he brought. "You into art?"

I nod, relieved that the conversation has shifted. "I mean, I don't know much about it, but I like it."

Jason smiles—a real smile this time, not the polite kind. "You should check this out," he says, sliding the book across the table toward me. "It's mostly photography, but there's some pretty amazing stuff in there."

I glance down at the book, the cover worn, the pages thick like it's been used and loved for years. Jason watches me as I flip through a few pages, and for a moment, it feels... normal. Like two people having a conversation about something real. For the first time in days, I'm not thinking about the fight with Ava, or the weight of everything I've been carrying. For just a few minutes, it's me and Jason, sitting in a library, talking about art.

But the moment doesn't last.

Reality crashes back in, reminding me of who I am. David Castillo, the quarterback with a girlfriend who's waiting for answers I don't have. And Jason? He's the guy who's been messing with my head, whether he realizes it or not.

I close the book and push it back toward him. "Thanks," I say, quieter now.

Jason nods, his smile fading just a little. "No problem."

There's another silence, but this time it feels heavier, like we're both aware of something unspoken between us. Jason stands up, grabbing the book and tucking it back under his arm.

"I'll see you around," he says, his eyes lingering on mine a second longer than they should.

"Yeah," I reply, my chest tight. "See you."

I watch him walk away, my heart still pounding, my mind spinning. And as I sit there, in the quiet of the library, I realize something I've been trying to avoid for weeks.

This isn't just curiosity. It's not some passing thought or fleeting moment. There's something real between us.

And it's going to tear everything apart.

4o