"‘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 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.
"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."
The air in the library always smelled like old paper and vanilla, but whenever Ally Barker walked in, it shifted to something sharper—like ozone before a storm.