Scorched: Book 1 of the Scorched Trilogy by Lizzy Prince

Author:Lizzy Prince [Prince, Lizzy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-05-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

It took another three days before Munro and I were able to meet up again. He’d sent me a text letting me know he’d be out of school for a few days. My stomach had done somersaults when the message chimed on my phone, and I saw it was from him. When I asked him what he was doing, he cagily said that he had to run some errands for Ryan. My idea of running errands was stopping at Target and picking up some detergent. I was confident those were not the kind of errands Munro was talking about.

I was sitting in the school library during a free hour, trying to get ahead on some homework. Orange, yellow, and brown dominated the colors clueing everyone in on the fact that there had been no design updates since the '70s. A few other students were whispering quietly, trying to avoid the evil stare of the librarian, Ms. Lynch, who hated any sort of noise within the space. The library was so quiet that even the scratch of pencils and creak of chairs echoed around the room and caused Ms. Lynch's head to whip around in constant accusation.

I heard the door swing open and looked up as it sounded off with a long screech. I think Ms. Lynch used it like a doorbell, so she could keep tabs on who was coming and going from her space. Apparently, it was the one sound allowed.

Looking up from an English paper on the existential movement I was failing at writing, my stomach gave an excited flutter when Munro came through the door. He barely spared me a glance before heading to the stacks of books. It was so quick I questioned what I saw, but he tilted his head slightly and looked me in the eyes for the briefest of moments, indicating I should follow him.

Setting my pen down, I pushed back from the table and headed toward the stacks to find Munro. I was surprised to see him back in town and that he had tracked me down in the library in the middle of the day. When he told me he’d be out of town for a few days, he hadn’t given any indication of when he would return.

The library wasn’t large, but there were still at least twenty rows of shelves filled with books. Assuming he would want to find the most out of the way spot to talk, I headed toward the very last row, which was the farthest from the check-out desk and the scowling face of our librarian. All the stacks butted up against large windows that looked out on the courtyard.

Munro was leaning against the brown heating register that sat flush against the windows with his arms crossed, his back supported by the glass behind him. He was wearing a thin, dark blue sweater that showed off his broad shoulders and toned arms, dark gray cords and a pair of Chucks. How someone could manage to look so casual and devastatingly handsome at the same time was a mystery.

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