Alexandra Henderson glanced at the bottom-right corner of her laptop screen. 7:50 p.m., Thursday. The coffee shop right outside the library reading room closed at eight, the library itself not for another five hours. Five more hours for economic theory, ten minutes for coffee. Easy choice.
As she waited in line, Alexandra took in her surroundings. A high, gothic ceiling in the mostly empty reading room, a fluorescent-lit foyer, and her own sweatpants and sweatshirt in the middle of it all: in total, a rather depressing sight, and the first night of many she'd resigned herself to spend in her new study spot.
The worker at the counter nodded glumly as she ordered a peppermint mocha with whipped cream. Winter in Chicago seemed to make the people's moods as cold and gray as the air outside. Not that Alexandra felt any better: the end of her senior season of soccer and getting re-dumped by her off-and-on boyfriend for the the third time were not helping her mood. Not at all.
The glum barista handed Alexandra the drink. She put her head down, one hand in the pocket of her hoodie, and started to return. As she passed the imposing dark wood circulation desk and headed toward the stone-arched entrance to the reading room, a voice came from behind the desk, just over her left shoulder.
"Hey, you play soccer here?" The friendly-sounding voice belonged to a blonde woman sitting behind the desk.
"Played. Past tense," Alexandra said, turning in the doorway. "Why?"
"I'm sorry. Tough way to end, yeah?" The University's women's soccer team had lost their conference final 1-0 on a goal in the 85th minute.
Alexandra nodded, unconsciously grabbing the end of her braided, light-brown hair that hung over her left shoulder. "It was. A shit week overall, and now it's just econ from here on out." She started to turn back towards the reading room.
"I played too. Not here, of course. My last game, I scored an own goal off a corner and conceded a penalty. I'd been first team all-conference for three years and the captain for two."
"Fuck me. That's rough," Alexandra said, approaching the desk. Economics could wait.
The blonde shrugged. "You'll get over it." She folded her hands on the desk in front of her, bright-red nails reflecting some of the excessive lighting. "The econ, maybe not so much. I did that as an undergrad, too."
"And now?"
"Now I'm in law school, freezing my ass off in a cold apartment and working a circulation desk in an undergrad library so I can earn money and study at the same time." She smiled a half-smile. "The coffee's not bad here, either, and I get a freebie every shift."
Alexandra laughed for the first time in perhaps a week. "Good enough to get the job done, I guess. It's funny. I should have moved over here years ago. It's quiet in there, the ceiling's nice to look at when I get bored, and my ex-boyfriend doesn't sit in a study carrel twenty yards from where I most want to study. Livin' the high life, UChicago-style."
"Like they say, where fun goes to die." A full smile now, with green eyes lighting up behind the tortoise-shell glasses.
"Indeed. If it ever started."
"Oh, come on. It could be worse. You're done with soccer, you're single..." She paused. "Right? You've clearly got a brain, you've got the looks, you'll have the degree soon. That doesn't sound so bad to me!"
Alexandra cocked her head to the side. "So good that you traded that all for law school?"
"And some wit." The woman looked downward, seemingly into space, and shook her head slightly. "No, I traded it all for an economics consulting job. Then I quit after three years, totally burned out, twenty pounds heavier, and coming off a disaster of a relationship with a dude who seemed perfect on paper. So I just left."
Alexandra put the mocha down on the counter. "Left?"
"Left. I'd made 150 grand a year after the salary and the sorry-you-worked-until-midnight bonus money. So I traveled for two years, learned three more languages, forgot about the stupid guys, lost the weight, and got myself back better and happier." Another pause as she tapped on the desktop keyboard. "And then I went to law school. So here I am, barely hanging onto my twenties, back at yet another crossroads, sitting at a desk again."
"Where'd you go?"
The woman looked back at her, uncomprehending.
"On your travels?"
She laughed, her eyes coming back into focus. "Oh! Um, well, I hit every continent except Antarctica. I spent the most time in Europe and South America, but I also was in New Zealand for around six months, hiking and working on this cool little working-holiday visa scheme they've got."
"Wow. Just...wow. That sounds amazing. Did you keep a blog or anything? Pictures?"
The woman grinned again. "Both, but I stopped the blog about halfway through. I've got pictures on Facebook though, loads. Some are a little more...private...than that," she said, winking while still laughing.
"Would it be too weird if I asked you if I could see them? The, uh, not-private ones?" Alexandra felt confused. Was this girl - woman? she's almost thirty, after all - hitting on her? Playing soccer, she'd been hit on by women before. It wasn't pleasant: sweaty girls in the locker room trying to hit her up right after practice. No thanks. Ick. Not going there.
"Well, friend me and you can see them all." She paused to write her name on a sticky note, her slender, tan wrist extending towards Alexandra. "Sorry, I'm Kira," she said, handing it over.
"Alexandra. Henderson." Moreover, if she was being hit on, Alexandra realized, it was beginning to work. The familiar signs were there: her voice rose a step or two and tended towards a stutter, her stomach muscles contracted slightly, and a slight tingling emerged along her skin.
That
was new. But didn't this girl say something about a long relationship with a dude? "It's nice to meet you...Kira."
"Likewise, Alexandra." Kira stared, not even trying to hide it. First at Alexandra's hair, then down the length of her body, to the floor, taking in what little could be seen despite the sweatsuit.
"Well, back to the books" Alexandra managed to blurt as she began to turn, finally heading through the arched doorframe.
"Enjoy the pics."
Alexandra made no reply as she scooted through the doorway and slipped into the seat just inside, looking again at her laptop. Then down at the sticky note: Kira Manning, it read, in swooping, confident, handwriting. Well, time to find out, she thought. Alexandra logged onto Facebook.
*****
Ten minutes later, she had her answers. Kira Manning. Third-year law student, economics degree from Princeton, originally from outside of Houston. Album after album of photos from virtually every country in Europe and South America, and another three albums of New Zealand hiking photos alone, each more spectacular than the previous one. Shorter blonde hair in the earlier photos, increasing in length to the present, which looked like maybe mid-back length. Tall - at least 5'9" or 5'10"- unless everyone she knew was a munchkin. Tight, athletic body with slightly masculine, wide-ish shoulders, and what Alexandra had already noticed to be substantial breasts, at least D cups on an otherwise fairly narrow frame. This last fact caused a bit of a start for Alexandra: noticing women's breasts - and staring at them in photos - was not something she usually did.
Oh, and Kira was apparently single, with no orientation listed. No recent photos with men in them, romantic or otherwise. Not that many recent photos at all, in fact, except more hiking shots from around the United States and Canada. Alexandra closed the browser window.
The hours thudded by one page of notes at a time. Alexandra felt her head drooping more than once, and her eyes seemed to glaze over for minutes at a time. As time went by, the tables around her emptied, and soon it was nearly midnight. She was the only patron left, and the library was about to close.
Alexandra folded closed her book - quietly, so as not to disturb the careful silence that enveloped her - and looked at the weather app on her desktop. Sixteen degrees. Ugh. The temperature had dropped a mind-boggling thirty degrees since nightfall.
Stuffing the laptop in the bag and putting on her knee-length parka, Alexandra strode out of the reading room. As she passed the circulation desk, a playful voice interrupted her.
"Hey there, last customer! Look, I don't mean to pry, but are you planning to walk home in that? You'll freeze your legs halfway through!"
Alexandra looked down. "Yeah, not the smartest call out there."
"Wait 3 minutes for me to lock up and you can have a ride. Deal?"
"Deal."
Instead of walking around the desk, Kira simply hopped over it, giving Alexandra her first glimpse of a pair of very long, well-toned legs stuffed into a pair of impossibly tight jeans. As she disappeared inside the reading room, just before she locked the door behind her, she looked over her shoulder and gave Alexandra a wink.
Two minutes later she returned, appearing silently through a different door on the opposite wall and locking it too.
Alexandra realized she'd been staring into space the entire time, not moving an inch, but now she turned around to face the statuesque blonde behind her.
