The university library became Brooklyn's sanctuary. The fourth floor was practically deserted at nine P.M. on a Wednesday night and she loved it that way. The soft hum of fluorescent lights, the smell of books that have gone slightly musty from age and the feel of being enveloped by uncountable knowledge. That was where she went to think, to study, to get away.
She did not expect Daniel to find her here.
Brooklyn had squeezed into the best corner spot of her usual table, three walls to herself and she was secure in a fortress of textbooks about behavioral psychology and criminal theory when she heard footsteps. She looked up, prepared to give an encouraging smile to whoever it was that walked past, only to find herself faced with Daniel's grin.
"How did you—"
"Tracy said you were likely here," he said, dropping into the chair opposite her study carrel. "Something about how you practically live on the fourth floor during exam season."
