The Book Of Us

8. Locked in the Storm

I sit in the library, hunched over my notes, trying to make sense of all the material piling up for the final year. My mind is a mix of lecture highlights and future job applications, hoping that once I'm done with this, I can finally start working and leave the chaos of school behind. The coffee next to me is my only lifeline, helping me power through the drowsiness threatening to take over.

I take a sip, trying to keep my focus, when a shadow looms over me. I glance up, already knowing who it is without even needing to confirm. Engfa. Great.

I sigh, putting my pen down, and stare up at her. "What do you want?"

She crosses her arms, unfazed. "Forgot my key. I need yours to get into the room."

I look back down at my notes. "Well, I'm busy. So, you're just going to have to wait," I say, picking up my pen and resuming my writing.

Engfa doesn't move. She stays exactly where she is, looming. Then, she reaches over and tries to grab my pen.

I swat her hand away, glaring up at her. "Seriously, stop."

But she's not fazed. "Just give me the key," she says, reaching again, her fingers brushing against the pen in my hand, as if her only goal is to annoy me until I cave.

I yank my hand back, scowling. "You're such a pain."

In one swift move, her hand collides with my coffee cup, and the cup tips over, spilling its contents all over the table, drenching my notes in the process.

I gasp, shooting up from my seat. "Are you kidding me?!"

The people around us turn, glaring, and a librarian shushes us from the corner. But I'm too furious to care. Frantically, I try to grab my papers, the ink already starting to bleed from the pages. I wipe them down with my sleeve, but the damage is done.

Engfa just stands there, watching the whole thing with an infuriatingly calm expression. She doesn't move to help, doesn't even offer an apology. Instead, she has the audacity to put a finger to her lips and whisper, "Shhh, library. Don't make a scene."

My jaw drops. "Are you actually serious right now?" I whisper harshly, my voice barely controlled. I'm beyond pissed. "You just ruined all my notes!"

She doesn't seem the least bit bothered. Instead, she simply shrugs. "Shouldn't have put the coffee so close, then."

I clench my fists, my whole body trembling with frustration. "You're a complete disaster." I spit, wiping down the last of my papers with shaking hands.

She looks at me, tilting her head slightly. "Are you done? Can I have the key now?"

My eyes narrow. I reach into my bag, yank out the key, and practically throw it at her. "Take it and leave."

She catches it effortlessly, pockets it. "Thanks. Try not to spill anything else while I'm gone," she says, walking away without so much as a second glance.

I stare after her, trying to comprehend how someone can be that insufferable, my blood still boiling.

As I shove my ruined notes into my bag, I can't stop the string of curses running through my head. "I can't stand her," I mutter under my breath, stuffing the last of my papers in with more force than necessary. "She's the worst person I've ever met. I seriously hate her."

Two hours—two whole hours—wasted because of her. All the work I had painstakingly put together, completely trashed because Engfa couldn't go a single moment without making my life miserable. My coffee is gone, my notes are soaked, and now I have to start over.

I zip up my bag with a sharp tug, letting out an exasperated sigh as I stand up. My body is tense, my mind buzzing with frustration. I grab my things, slinging my bag over my shoulder, my movements harsh and jerky. Every second that passes, my anger grows.