Chapter Eight

Tuesday;

I relish my off days, but having one on a Tuesday feels like a missed opportunity—Mondays or Fridays would have made for a glorious long weekend. Instead, here I am, spending my precious day off on campus, hunched over a stack of books in the library.

The quiet hum of the fluorescent lights and the faint rustle of pages turning are my only companions as I sift through endless texts, trying to track down the elusive answer to that one stubborn question from our group activity.

I can't help but regret not getting Lea's number; with her around, we could've split the work, breezing through this tedious search twice as fast. Instead, I'm on my own, combing through dusty volumes and endless articles, wishing I wasn't the only one doing the heavy lifting.

It's just after one in the afternoon, and I'm knee-deep in my sixth book, flipping through pages with the quiet frustration of someone who's been searching far too long. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting soft, dappled light onto the rows of dusty shelves. The library is practically deserted—just a couple of students scattered in corners, lost in their own work.

And then there's Prof. Montgomery, who walked in about an hour ago. She's settled at a table near the back, red pen in hand, scowling at a stack of papers that I assume are quizzes. Every so often, she mutters something under her breath, furiously scribbling notes in the margins. I watch her out of the corner of my eye, debating with myself—do I dare ask her for help, risking one of her icy stares, or do I just keep at it, resigned to suffering in silence? The thought of interrupting her feels like stepping into a lion's den, but at this point, I'm desperate.

I took a deep breath, closing my eyes as I counted to five, trying to steady my nerves. After a quick minute of breathing exercises, I forced myself up from my table and walked over to where Prof. Montgomery sat, each step feeling heavier than the last. She was hunched over her stack of papers, her brow furrowed in concentration. I stopped a few feet away, cleared my throat softly, and watched as she clenched her pen so tightly her knuckles turned white.

"I can't even have peace in the library," she muttered under her breath, her voice sharp and edged with annoyance. She placed the pen down, her gaze flicking up to meet mine, and I immediately felt the weight of her impatience. My stomach twisted with regret. This was a mistake.

"I—Nevermind," I stammered, feeling my face heat up. "Sorry for bothering you." I turned quickly, eager to escape the suffocating tension, but before I could take another step, she let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Just spit it out," she said, her voice dripping with exasperation. I froze, caught between relief and dread, knowing there was no turning back now.

I felt the weight of her stare pinning me in place. Slowly, I turned back around, my movements hesitant as I met her piercing gaze. Prof. Montgomery's eyes narrowed, her finger tapping rhythmically against the table in a steady beat of impatience, waiting for me to get to the point.

"I was wondering if you could help me with a question I'm stuck on," I said, my voice wavering slightly. My fingers twisted together nervously behind my back, trying to channel the anxiety into something less visible.

She tilted her head, her expression a mix of irritation and curiosity. "How do you expect me to help if I don't have the question in my hand?" she asked, her brow furrowing as if my lack of preparation was an insult to her very existence.

"Oh!" I gasped, feeling the heat of embarrassment flood my cheeks. Without thinking, I slapped my hand to my forehead, mentally kicking myself for being so scatterbrained. I quickly turned on my heel and hurried back to my table, snatching up the sheet of paper like it was a lifeline.

Returning to her, I held it out with an apologetic smile, my hand trembling slightly as I offered it to her, hoping she wouldn't send me away empty-handed.

Prof. Montgomery snatched the paper from my grasp with such force that I nearly got a paper cut. The sharp sound of the paper rustling between her fingers echoed louder than it should have in the quiet library. She glanced up at me with a sharp, expectant look. "Which question?" she asked, her tone clipped as her eyes darted back to the sheet.

"Question twelve," I replied, watching her scan the text with her usual intense focus. Her eyes moved quickly over the words before she straightened, sliding the paper back across the table toward me. "There's a book in this library that has the answer," she said flatly, her voice devoid of any sympathy for my struggle.

"I've been looking for it since this morning," I said, gesturing toward the mess of books sprawled across my table. She followed my pointed finger, her gaze sweeping over the piles of open texts and crumpled notes, a clear indication of my fruitless efforts.

Prof. Montgomery muttered something under her breath, too low for me to catch, then pushed her chair back with a slight scrape against the floor. Without a word, she strode past me, her heels clicking decisively against the tiles as she made her way toward an aisle near my table.

I hesitated, torn between waiting at her table or trailing after her, but my dilemma was quickly resolved when Prof. Montgomery stopped abruptly and shot a glare over her shoulder. "Are you coming?" she snapped, her voice laced with irritation. "I'm not going to waste time walking back and forth for you."

Muttering a quick apology, I hurried to catch up, trailing a few steps behind her as she made her way down the aisle. Her heels clicked sharply against the polished floor, echoing in the narrow space. She scanned the shelves with a focused intensity, her lips pressed into a thin line. I must have been hovering too close because she suddenly paused, throwing me a sideways glance, her brows furrowed in annoyance. "Can you not stand so close?" she said, her voice clipped before turning back to the books.

I took a hurried step back, giving her more space as she resumed her search, her fingers trailing over the spines with practiced precision. Finally, she stopped, her eyes landing on a thick, dust-coated book that looked like it hadn't been touched in years. With a quick yank, she pulled it from the shelf and thrust it into my hands. The weight of it surprised me—it was heavy, almost comically so, and I struggled to keep my grip.

I stared at the massive book in my hands, feeling the overwhelming weight of both its physical bulk and the task ahead. The pages were dense, filled with tiny, cramped text that looked impossible to get through in one sitting. There was no way I could comb through all of this and still finish the assignment on time.

Prof. Montgomery seemed to sense my mounting dread. She let out an exasperated sigh, her expression tight as she pinched the bridge of her nose, clearly fighting the urge to snatch the book away and smack me over the head with it. "Your answer is on page five hundred," she muttered, each word dripping with barely concealed frustration.

Relief washed over me, and I managed a grateful smile. "Thank you, Professor. I really appreciate it," I said, trying to convey just how much her begrudging assistance meant. She gave me a dismissive nod, her eyes already drifting away as if she'd spent more than enough time dealing with me. Without another word, she brushed past me, her focus shifting back to her table as she resumed her work, leaving me standing there with the daunting tome and a newfound determination to get this done.

Grinning from ear to ear, I made my way back to my desk, still buzzing from the small victory. Was it worth risking Prof. Montgomery's wrath? Absolutely. I'd take her scowls and snark over wasting hours combing through stacks of books any day.

I dropped into my chair, eager to dive in, and cracked open the ancient book. A cloud of dust puffed up, swirling in the light like a swarm of tiny insects. I waved it away, wrinkling my nose. When was the last time anyone touched this thing? It looked like it hadn't seen daylight in years. But I didn't care. I was one step closer to finishing this maddening assignment.

Flipping through the thick pages, my fingers brushed over the aged paper until I finally reached page five hundred. I couldn't help but smirk at the irony—Prof. Montgomery had practically handed me the answer, something she'd never normally do. It was almost funny, really. The no-nonsense professor, notorious for her cold demeanor, had just saved my day.

Maybe Prof. Montgomery wasn't as heartless as she seemed—at least, that's what I had thought for a moment. I'd been bracing myself for her to snap at me to get lost or figure it out alone. So when she helped, it felt like a small miracle.

But my satisfaction was short-lived. My smile vanished the second I saw the bold, mocking text sprawled across page five hundred. "Seriously?!" I groaned, slumping back in my chair. I shot a glance at Prof. Montgomery, whose head was down, but I could see her shoulders shaking ever so slightly. Was she...laughing?

The page read in large, unmissable letters, 'SOMETIMES, ASKING FOR HELP, IS NOT OKAY.'

I stared at the words, heat rising to my cheeks. She had set me up. Prof. Montgomery hadn't intended to help at all—she just wanted to make a fool out of me. I felt my face flush with a mix of embarrassment and frustration. She'd played me perfectly, and I'd walked right into her trap.

I take back every nice thought I had about Prof. Montgomery. Any tiny flicker of hope I had that she wasn't entirely awful had just been snuffed out. What she did was downright cruel, and the small part of me that believed she might have a decent side was now dead and buried. I clenched my fists, seething. Someone needed to knock some kindness into her—preferably with the very book she'd handed me.

I slammed the book shut, the loud thud echoing in the nearly empty library, and stood up abruptly, my chair scraping the floor. I was done—done with her, done with this game. I marched back to the aisle and shoved the book back where it belonged, taking a deep breath as I tried to keep my cool.

Don't lash out. Just breathe. I repeated the mantra in my head, fighting the urge to storm over to her table and give her a piece of my mind. I forced myself to refocus, grabbing a few more books that might actually be useful and trudging back to my table. It was just me and this endless search now.

I'd been hunched over the books for another hour, eyes straining as I skimmed through page after page of useless information. My brain was starting to fog, and I knew I needed a break. I hadn't paused once since I'd started, and the exhaustion was beginning to creep in.

With a tired sigh, I gathered my phone and keys, leaving my books and notes scattered across the table. The library's cool, quiet air gave way to the warm afternoon sun as I stepped outside, the fresh air instantly reviving me a little. I needed something to clear my head, and Midnight Mocha felt like the perfect escape—a little caffeine and sugar to lift my spirits.

After a short drive, I parked and made my way into the café, its comforting hum of chatter and the rich aroma of coffee greeting me like an old friend. I headed straight to the counter, glancing at the glass display of pastries before ordering an iced coffee and a slice of creamy cheesecake to go. While waiting, I found an empty table by the window and sank into the chair, enjoying this brief, quiet moment away from the endless grind of research.

With my order in hand, I paid the barista and headed back to campus, the drive filled with the soothing rhythm of soft music and the gentle clink of my iced coffee in the cupholder. Instead of diving straight back into the library, I decided to take a moment for myself by the fountain—a favorite spot on campus with its calming rush of water and the occasional splash from a playful breeze.

I settled onto a worn stone bench, setting my coffee beside me as I unwrapped the cheesecake. The first bite was heavenly, the creamy sweetness melting on my tongue, momentarily easing the frustration that had been building all day. But as I stared at the fountain's dancing water, my mind drifted back to the task at hand. I needed a plan, something that would finally put an end to this exhausting search.

How was I going to find the answer I needed? I felt a pang of embarrassment—I should have figured this out by now. I sighed, pushing away the feeling of failure. I resolved to give it one last go, I'd spend an hour max back in the library, scouring whatever resources I hadn't yet touched. After that, I was done. I'd given it my best shot, and at this point, I was more than ready to walk away. The internet had failed me, and Prof. Montgomery's "help" was worse than useless. With no way to reach Lea for backup, I was on my own, and honestly, I was too drained to care anymore.

Back in the library, the stillness was palpable, with not a single soul in sight. The last of the students had left, and even Prof. Montgomery had vacated her usual spot. The silence felt heavy, pressing in on me as I returned to my table, still strewn with open books and scattered notes. I dropped into my seat, eyes scanning the mess of pages in front of me. That's when I noticed a slim book right in the middle of the pile, its unassuming cover partially hidden beneath larger volumes.

"What the hell?" I mumbled, furrowing my brow. I didn't remember pulling this one off the shelf. It must have slipped in somehow, unnoticed in the chaos of my search. Curiosity piqued, I flipped it open to the marked page, my eyes skimming over the text.

My breath caught in my throat. There it was—the answer I'd been desperately hunting for. My mind raced, replaying the hours I'd wasted, the frustration that had piled up. How had I missed this? Maybe I'd been too tired, too overwhelmed to notice it right under my nose.

But there was no time to dwell on it now. Relief surged through me, and with renewed focus, I grabbed my laptop, jotting down key points from the passage, my fingers flying over the keyboard as I typed furiously. Finally, I was making progress, and the sense of accomplishment was more satisfying than I could have imagined.

In just under twenty minutes, I finished typing the last of my notes and closed my laptop with a triumphant snap. A smile spread across my face—finally, after an entire day of searching, I'd found the answer that had eluded me. I couldn't believe it had taken this long, but at least I had something to show for my efforts.

Exhaustion tugged at my limbs, but before I could leave, I had to tidy up the aftermath of my frantic research. I carefully gathered the books from my table, feeling the weight of each one as I returned them to their rightful places on the shelves. The library was so quiet that the soft thud of each book echoed in the stillness, reminding me of how empty the space was now.

With the last book tucked away and my table cleared, I slung my bag over my shoulder and headed toward the exit. The day had felt like an endless loop of frustration, but as I stepped out into the fading light, I couldn't help but feel a sense of pride. I'd stuck it out, and despite all the setbacks, I had finally found what I was looking for. Today hadn't been a total waste after all.