"I know, Leo," she said softly, her hand finding his in the dark. Her skin was warm, grounding him. "I’ve been waiting for you to get off page forty-two for a long time."
"‘And then,’" she whispered, stepping closer to him in the narrow aisle, "‘the hero realizes the treasure was never the gold, but the girl with the ink-stained fingers.’"
Leo had been "studying" for three hours, which was really just a cover for watching Ally navigate the stacks. She didn’t just walk; she moved with a quiet, frantic energy, her fingers trailing over book spines as if she were searching for a secret door. She was a journalism major with a reputation for asking questions that made professors sweat and a laugh that sounded like wind chimes in a gale. He was hopelessly, quietly in love with her. In Love with Ally Barker
"You’re staring at the radiator," she countered, pulling out the chair across from him. "Which is fine, but I have a better story for you. The campus archives just opened the 1920s floor. Rumor is there are letters from a secret society hidden in the floorboards. Want to help me commit some light trespassing?"
The playfulness vanished. The silence of the archives pressed in on them. Leo could feel his heart hammering against his ribs. "Ally," he breathed. "I know, Leo," she said softly, her hand
As the sun began to bleed through the high, stained-glass windows, they walked out into the morning air—exhausted, ink-smudged, and finally, undeniably, together.
Leo jumped, his highlighter leaving a neon yellow streak across his textbook. Ally was leaning over the table, her dark hair falling forward, eyes bright with mischief. "I’m... absorbing the material," Leo stammered. She didn’t just walk; she moved with a
Leo knew he should say no. He had a midterm at eight. But Ally was already standing, her backpack slung over one shoulder, looking at him like he was the only person who could possibly keep up with her.