The Flyer & The Frat Star

The Library

Hero

As we walk towards the library, I can't help but continue to sneak glances at Josephine as she walks beside me. She looks so fucking good in my flannel, and due to its length I instantly imagine she's naked under there. Completely bare with only my clothing covering that delectable body. I'd love to wake up to her in the kitchen, cooking breakfast, wearing only my shirt. Breakfast? What the fuck, Tiffin? I've known this girl all of one day and I'm already going soft.

She turns her head to me and catches me looking at her. She turns away with a small smile on her lips and continues walking. "What, no wink this time?" I tease her. She falters in her steps, seemingly caught off guard of my mentioning of her little performance.

"I was hoping you forgot about that," she says, turning her face away from me in attempt to hide her blush.

"How could I ever forget something like that?" I tease her further, a hint of seduction in my tone. She just shakes her head with a small, awkward laugh and averts my gaze. I decide to drop the subject. For now.

We come upon the entrance to the library as I open the door for her and gesture for her to enter before me. I can be a gentleman if I want to be. "I hate to break this to you, Hero, but I have been to the library before," she mocks me, entering the library. I take time to admire her from the back before responding. I'm still a man after all.

"Ha. Ha," I dryly reply, "I know you've been to library, Jo. But I assure you you've never been to where I'm taking you." She looks intrigued, a look of pure curiosity overtakes her face. It's quite adorable. She follows closely behind me as I ascend the staircase, but once we reach the top floor, I take out a key and unlock the door that leads to another staircase.

"Are you taking me up some secret staircase to kill me?" Jo asks, eyeing me suspiciously as she peeks up the stairwell.

"Oh no, my plan is ruined," I smile at her. She giggles and it's like music to my ears. "Go ahead," I nod in the direction up the stairs. Another opportunity to appreciate her body. Completely unintentional on my part. We both emerge in the small room lined with bookshelves, the smell of old book pages prominent in the confined space.

"What is this place?" She looks like a kid in a candy shop, and I can't help but feel a surge of pride knowing that I brought her this joy.

"This is where they keep some of the rarer books," I respond, suddenly feeling very vulnerable. She starts walking around the room, trailing her fingers lightly over the spines of the dusty books. In the low light of the room she looks gorgeous— the shadows of her eyelashes, the shape of her lips, the smooth skin of her neck. I realize she doesn't need all of that makeup to exude beauty, and I find myself wishing her face was natural.

"How did you get a key to this place?" she whispers as if we're trespassing.

"You don't need to whisper, Jo," I laugh. "And one of my sophomore year professors made me a copy. I come here to work. I like the quiet," I scratch the back of my neck, the air suddenly becoming very stuffy. Why am I sharing this secret with her? Why does it feel so right to have her in this intimate space with me?

"I didn't peg you as the reading type," she looks right at me, and it feels like she's looking right through me.

"I'm not. I hate English and everything to do with reading," I explain. "I, uh, come here to draw." It feels odd admitting my secret passion to someone. No one except for my family and my art professors know about my art. It's a part of myself I don't wish to share with anyone else, but for some reason it felt natural to share it with Josephine. To show her this side of me that no one else knows. I move to sit down on the floor against the only wall without a bookshelf, sliding down and drawing my knees to my chest, resting my elbows on the tops of my knees.

"Wow, that's amazing, Hero," Jo moves to sit down cross-legged next to me. "I wish I could draw. Unfortunately, my talent never made it past a kindergarten level. And don't even get me started on coloring in the lines." I look over at her as she speaks with a serious face before we both burst out into laughter. It feels so good to genuinely laugh with someone, and I feel so at ease with her.

"I mean, it's nothing special. Not like I can get a job doodling," I once used to dream of making a living off of my art. But that was many years ago. Before life happened. Before I turned life into some immature game, letting drugs, alcohol, and women consume my thoughts rather than chasing my dreams.

"I'd love to see your work sometime," she playfully nudges her shoulder into mine.

"Maybe someday," I respond to her, letting her down easily. I have no intention of showing anyone my art. It's the only thing left that's solely mine, that expresses my deepest thoughts and feelings. "Less about me, let's talk about you," I quickly shift the conversation.

"What about me? I'm an English major, I cheer, I have a cat named Cat," she counts on her fingers sarcastically.

"Come on, Jo. You know what I'm talking about," I encourage her. She looks genuinely perplexed by my implication. "Cheerleading. You seemed like a completely different person out there. You were incredible," I compliment her. Even in the low light of the room I can see her blush.

"I feel like another person when I perform," she explains, "The girl you saw out there, the girl that winked at you, is not me. At least not normal me. I don't know how to explain it. Something just comes over me and the adrenaline is coursing through me and I'm doing what I love," she lets out a breath. "Sorry, I'm rambling. That probably didn't make any sense."

"It makes perfect sense, Jo," I place my hand on her knee, feeling the warmth radiating from her body. "But really, you're an amazing cheerleader. I've never seen someone flip around so fast," she laughs at my statement and I'm relieved to see that smile back on her face. "You looked really confident out there, it was sexy as hell. And don't get me started on that uniform." I wiggle my eyebrows and she punches me in the arm.

"I guess I feel confident. Like I said, it's like I'm a different person." Her voice is tinged with sadness despite the smile on her face.

"You should always feel confident. I mean, look at you," I admit. She rolls her eyes as if I'm not being dead serious. "I'm serious, Josephine," I reach over to turn her chin towards me and meet her eyes. I can see her vulnerability and I can't help but want to shake her into realizing her beauty. The way she's staring right into my soul scares the shit out of me. What am I thinking? I'm not the kind of guy who takes girls to his secret spot and compliments her. I'm a fuck up. I've always been a fuck up. I need to shut this down before she gets any ideas.

Josephine

"Sam texted. You're in the clear," Hero looks at his phone. It's like I can see his walls go right back up. I thought we were getting to know each other and actually enjoying each other's company. I guess he had a different thought. He stands up abruptly and heads down the steps, not even waiting for me to follow him. I sit there dumbfounded for a few seconds before scrambling to my feet to leave.

We make our way out of the library in complete silence, and I find myself missing the sound of his laugh. Hero stops walking and turns to me, opening his mouth as if about to say something but ends up closing it and furrowing his brows. His silence is making me feel uncomfortable. I was opening up to him, just for him to shut me out as soon as reality set back in. I begin to unbutton the flannel he allowed me to borrow to give back to him before going back to the dorms.

"Keep it," Hero mutters before storming off in the opposite direction. I stand there dumbfounded, abandoned yet again. I head back to my room and Khadijha doesn't spare any details of her experience with Sam. I try to pay attention, but I can't help my mind from wandering to thoughts of Hero— his mesmerizing green eyes, that perfect dimple, and the way he actually made me feel good about myself.

As I get ready for bed that night I slip on a pair of spandex shorts and put Hero's flannel back on. It smells like him. Cigarettes, mint, and his cologne. I curl into my side and try to fall asleep. Why am I letting this get to me? Why am I pathetically cuddled up in his shirt laying in my bed dreaming of a guy that clearly hasn't given me another thought. Guys like him don't go for girls like me, but it felt nice to pretend for once.