Chapter 60

The other reason I like it here… the books. Five stories of invaluable knowledge, row after row of old tomes, and rooms filled with historical archives. The architecture is to die for: Gothic revival with soaring arches and intricately carved columns. The whole place smells of ink and paper, and I feel this sense of relaxation come over me as I wind my way toward the back corner where Tristan’s waiting.

He’s standing two shelves over from the entrance to the archive room, a table nearby littered with file folders and boxes of slides. Burberry Prep has had a student-run paper since 1970, but while the journalism club is in the process of scanning old articles into a digital archive, they’ve still got a long way to go. The time period Tristan and I are most interested in isn’t even close to being uploaded.

His eyes snap over to me when I walk down the aisle, the silver of his irises glimmering with some unknown emotion. I can’t seem to figure this guy out when he’s not bei