Cline Library was a boxy practical building that had that western flare for being one of the most boring things to look at. Well, one of the most boring thing to look at tied with every other building on campus. It was a big muted structure with stiff brick pillars, thin trees, and a very basic statute of books piled up outside the main doors. It was a stuffy grandfather’s ideal of a library wrapped up in high ceilings and awkward coughs and sniffles echoing through the space.

Of course, it was also Eliza’s favorite place on campus. It smelled like construction paper and something a little dank, but the familiar walls and walls of books was like a hug she wanted to crash down into. Past the neat wooden tables and boxy lights of the upper levels she liked to slink down to the basement.

The basement was chillier than the rest of the library with thin thread-bare carpets and hard cement underneath. There were lockers that students could rent out and secret little rooms that people could squirrel away in. Those rooms, of course, you had to rent in advance. But past the bright lights and squished bathrooms was a large room with little study spaces that students dubbed “the eggs.”

They were new additions to the library that had comfortable cushions that were slowly gathering stains and neat white desks that slowly gathering graffiti. The desks were encompassed by an exterior that looked undeniably like an egg: white walls and a pointed top. They were secluded, quiet, and even had a small roof over the desk that made privacy particularly easy.

That Friday evening almost the whole library was hushed, spacious, and occupied by only the most dedicated of students. Eliza liked to think she was one of them. Instead, she was miserably sitting in her egg desk and staring at a very blank and empty document.

“Ugh.” She could have cried.

Every Friday was her 2 hour small group honors thesis class. And she had arrived with bloodshot eyes and a headache that rumbled through her skull and down her spine. She had managed to discreetly chug a bottle and a half of water during the lethargic hours of the discussion group and slowly recovered herself.

That didn’t change the fact that they ended the class by going around and summarizing their thesis topics. Everyone, even Evan with the beaded rat-tail, managed to give a basic idea of what they were going to be doing their final project on.

Eliza’s cheeks just pinked and her head pounded, “Um…” Her eyes darted around the room like trapped fireflies in a glass jar. “I don’t know yet.”

The Professor had just sighed, which was basically a stab through the chest. “Remember, your topic proposals are due at the end of the month. Please contact the appropriate advisor for it beforehand.”

Eliza had wanted to sink through the floor into the recesses of the earth, but she had been wanting to do that since last night. She still remembered that evening before in excruciating detail.

She slumped down low in her egg chair and glared at the document. “I’m not leaving this seat until you fill up.” She promised the blank page.

She ended up biting her bottom lip and grasping for straws. What was she interested in? What did she care about? What about art history got her excited? Everything. Too much. None of it.

Eliza buried her face in her hands and ground her teeth. She was glad she seemed to be alone down there, “Ack!” She shifted in place and stabs of frustration went through her. This is what I’m supposed to be good at!

Never mind the things she was supposed to be bad at. Eliza was still dodging feelings from last night like it was the matrix and they were bullets being shot at her.

Her eyes fogged over for what felt like a long time. Eliza was only stomped out of her reverie when her phone buzzed and rocked the whole plastic frame in the process. Eliza rolled her eyes before reaching for it. She didn’t know how many times she would have to tell Joany that she couldn’t help pick out costumes that night.

Eliza froze when she saw a completely different message instead.

PotHead: WE FOUND YOUR ROOMMATE ONLINE.

Her eyes went wide and her heart squeezed painfully her chest like it was a stress ball in the hands of an ER doctor. No. What? Mickey? Eliza dragged herself away from the memories of leaning toward Mickey. Of getting closer to Mickey. Of being pulled into her orbit and tumbling toward her like trying to face a video game boss while being level zero.

She remembered plunging toward Mickey. And the other girl pulling away.

Eliza winced.

Eliza almost threw her phone across the room.

PotHead: HERE

Joany sent her a link for a website with a name that might as well have come with a winky face after it. Eliza clicked on “thepinkhole” with the force of annoyance more than anything. Expectantly, it took her to a brunette woman with a thin face, bare chest, and dark eyes.

She was slightly flatter than Mickey however and with longer legs.

Eliza rolled her eyes.

Me: that’s not her!! Go do something productive instead of looking at porn with Seb. It’s weird!!!

PotHead: okay, but check out this other one. It’s some guy dressed as spiderman riding a rubber ball. How is this porn??

Me: W E I R D!!

Eliza shoved her phone away from her and turned back to her blank document. It wasn’t seven o’clock yet or even the right website. She ignored her phone as it kept buzzing, probably with Spider-man balloon porn-- which was something she didn’t need in her life.

She wrote down a single word: The… Eliza erased a single word. She sat at her egg desk, her head had luckily stopped hurting, but she could feel hunger gnawing at her stomach.

She had barely wolfed down lunch that day and certainly hadn’t gotten dinner. She refused to get up though and refused to leave that seat until she had some idea for her thesis.

It was a long couple hours.

Something started nagging at Eliza’s thoughts however as the time dragged on. It took root and swam round and round her agitated head space… didn’t Mickey say she sometimes mentioned Eliza on her show? What if she mentioned Eliza to her listeners? What if she entertained them with the story of how “my terrible, slovenly, drunken roommate tried to kiss me last night…”

Eliza’s cheeks flared and she scrunched up into a ball in her egg desk which now felt like more of a prison than a place to escape to do her work. What if Mickey hated her now? What if she told her secrets to the camera? And Eliza would never know because they still had to be polite to each other.

Eliza stood and peaked around the corner of her desk. It was hard to tell if other people were in the other eggs near her, but she ended up hopping around the small area to check. The room seemed to be empty, bathed in the sharp light of sterile fluorescents and cold basement chill.

She went back to her seat. She put her headphones in. She leaned in very close so that her body might block the screen if someone somehow went all the way to her egg. Eliza very carefully, one word at a time, typed in: starlightcams.com.

She had a feeling this was a bad idea.

It didn’t matter, she had already typed in the address and the basement internet was already zooming away to a very basic site with a plain white layout. Her eyes went wide as she scanned little boxes with one live show after the next.

Eliza started to scroll. She was almost entranced by the sheer number of videos. There were girls in short skirts and bras or some splayed out on their beds in almost nothing or even fully clothed in leather. There were a high variety of names like: Melissa the Dom and Susie Rider and one that made Eliza smile that just read *insert Bond girl name here.*

She paused in her scrolling when she came to a small box with a very familiar face. Eliza froze. She checked the time.

She looked back at a girl with short dark hair wearing that same blue sports jacket Eliza had seen before. The video read: Bethany Moore live show.

Eliza gulped, shivered from head to toe, checked that her headphones were fully plugged in and then nervously bounced her leg up down. Her finger slipped. She liked to think that her finger slipped. It took a long time to load. Eliza was almost sure the site was broken like a sign from God via limits of internet bandwidth. She almost lost her nerve and exited out of the whole thing.

A little grey box popped up: You have to purchase tokens in order to view this video! Purchase tokens now to connect with Bethany Moore.

Eliza cocked her head to the side and had to decide very quickly how much she was willing to do to check up on Mickey and Mickey’s possible thoughts on her. She hunched over and glanced at the clock on her computer a couple times.

The show had already started.

“Alright, alright,” she murmured. She had a job for a reason, didn’t she?

She purchased the bare minimum of 10 tokens for five dollars.

A low-quality video sprang to life as if by magic, making Eliza jump and check over her shoulder for the fifth time. Her world seemed to blur and become distant and unreal. Clicking on erotic videos in the middle of the school library was not a description she usually assigned to herself.

“If you say so!” Eliza’s eyes dragged back to the screen and a smiling face. She relaxed for a moment.

Mickey was sitting in front of her camera in her jacket and looking… normal. Normal and fully dressed and perhaps slightly more flirty than usual. “How about the rest of my S’mores?” She asked, “how was your week?”

Eliza noticed a chat option on the side of the video and she clicked on a chat box that sprang to life with a variety of usernames and random texts. There were apparently 12 people streaming with Eliza at that moment.

She bit her bottom lip again.

BaddyAndy: not bad! It’s made better by getting to see your beautiful face at the end of it.

Mickey giggled and shook her head, “you’re such a suck up, boy. I don’t know what to do with you.”

BaddyAndy: a little punishment, maybe? ;)

El2231: Ugh, gag me.

Mickey rolled her eyes prettily. “Well, let me tell you about the eggplant Parmesan I made this week, and then we’ll get to stuff you're all here for.”

Titfortat: don’t listen to the others! I’m actually only here for your cooking recipes. The boobs are just a bonus.

Mickey laughed again and her lips spread wide. “I hope they’re a bonus!” She pouted and stuck her chest out, “though I guess not a very big bonus.”

The chat exploded in compliments to her breasts-- some with more colorful language than not. Mickey was giggling all over again and it almost made Eliza annoyed. She might have even tried to leave again if she herself wasn’t smiling along with it. Mickey was good at this.

“I know, I know,” she hushed the chat and swept her hair to the side. “I’m gorgeous, hashtag all titties are beautiful.”

Titfortat: but especially yours!!

Eliza made a face at them and almost wanted to type into the chat herself for the rest of them to shut up. She barely remembered the username she chose, something with a lot of letters and numbers of course.

The show itself was mostly Mickey talking about her week, and her cooking, and flirting with the audience one by one. She seemed to be able to give a reasonable enough attention to each commenter (except for Eliza who said nothing). It was hypnotic to watch.

Mickey was a different person on screen than she was in person. She was more confident somehow, but more demure too, like she was hiding a secret smile under another smile. Part of it annoyed Eliza and the other part of her couldn’t look away.

It was almost forty minutes into the show by the time anything actually happened. She didn’t even remember what Mickey was talking about before she put up a finger.

“Alright, y’all!” Mickey said wickedly. “Let’s party, I’ll start with ten tokens to take something off.”

Eliza almost slammed her whole computer shut at that. Her eyes met Mickey’s cheeky gaze and she watched as the other girls hands started wandering down to her loose shorts. This was Eliza’s chance to get off the ride. This was Eliza’s chance to remain pure and good and holy spirit-approved-- like she had been her whole life.

She didn’t click out of the video.