LOVE IN A LIBRARY

She tilted her head to one side, and her hair swayed with the motion, catching the light just right. She looked so stunning, I almost felt like running away.

“Come on, everyone has a favorite,” she insisted.

“Yeah…” I trailed off, and then a thought struck me like a bolt of lightning. I smiled, trying to keep it cool.

“So, I'd say my favorite thought so far is, ‘I have always seen the world through a darker lens.’ It's short, though.”

Her eyes widened, and she squealed, “Oh my gosh!” Her jaw dropped in disbelief. “How on earth did we think the same? That's my favorite too! God, page 17, I love it so much. I mean, like, that's so me!”

I nodded, feeling a wave of relief and silently thanking my lucky stars.

“I know, right? It makes so much sense.” She leaned in a little closer, her expression curious. “So, what was your thought about it?”

I sighed, trying to keep it cool, while she ran her fingers through her hair. It was impossible to look away.

“Yeah, my thought about it was, if you're still happy, then your lens is probably not dark enough,” I replied, offering a gentle smile.

She nodded slowly, like she wasn't sure what to say. “Well, that's dark,” she laughed, but I could hear a nervous edge in it.

She stood up and moved to sit on the mat on the floor, then glanced back up at me. It was pretty clear she wanted me to join her. I grabbed my bag and book, then sat down, folding my legs and facing her. Her face was so close now, it was kind of hard to think straight.

“So, how’s this?” she suggested, taking the book from me.

“We keep talking about the book!” she added excitedly. I pouted a little. “But I’m only on page 77.”

She nodded, trying to hide a hint of disappointment. “Oh, it’s fine,” she said, but I could tell she wasn’t thrilled.

I felt a pang of guilt. “How about this?” I said, trying to salvage the moment. “I could ask you about the thoughts based on some criteria, and you have to answer within five seconds. If it takes longer than five seconds, you lose, and I win,” I exclaimed, hoping I didn’t sound as desperate as I felt. She stayed silent for a moment, rubbing her chin like some kind of dramatic professor. I raised my eyebrows, waiting for her response.

“Well, that just makes it a million times more interesting!” she yelled, and I sighed with relief. “Great, but just one question,” she added, her finger drawing an imaginary circle around her face. I realized she was talking about my face, and I instantly felt embarrassed.

“I know, I know. I look terrible,” I mumbled. She shook her head, her expression sincere. “You just look… different. Let's say hot.”

“Hot?” I blurted out with a snort.

“You’ve never seen movies about hot guys who never sleep?” she asked, a playful grin on her lips. “They always have those really cute dark circles under their eyes, and I’m kind of a sucker for it.”

I laughed, trying hard not to blush. “Well, thanks,” I muttered, still feeling unsure.

“So, what happened? You didn’t sleep?” she asked, tugging at some loose threads on the mat. I stayed quiet and gave a toothless grin. She looked up, her brown eyes locked onto mine. “Don't tell me you were up watching anime all night. I hate those fucking creatures,” she teased. My eyes darted around the library, searching for an escape. “Okay, I won't. I won’t tell you that I was up all night watching anime.”

“You did!” she exclaimed, her left hand shooting out towards me before she stopped herself halfway. Regret flashed across her face, and I wasn’t sure if she’d meant to punch my shoulder like Fiona always did or poke my nose. We stared at each other, both caught off guard. She quickly folded her arm into a fist and pulled it back to her side.

That was the most awkward nine seconds of my life. Yeah, I counted every single one.

“Um, shall we?” I asked, my eyes darting nervously.

“Uh, yes,” she replied, clearing her throat and tucking loose strands of hair behind her ear.

I died for a second.

“Okay,” I said, trying to look serious.

“Most confusing thought?”

She glanced up at the high ceiling, thinking. “Oh, oh, here it is: ‘Perhaps I don’t even exist. Maybe I just exist in someone else’s dream, or better, nightmare." She giggled, covering her mouth.

I nodded, though I couldn’t remember when I’d read that particular thought.

“Yup, that’s pretty confusing, for real.”

“Okay, so, sickest motivation?” I asked.

“Yeah, don’t laugh, okay?” she said pouting.

“I promise." I said, placing my hand on my chest and laughing, my eyes shut tight. “Okay, okay,” she said. “My sickest motivation is, ‘I am everything I say I am."

I tried to stifle a laugh, but failed when I remembered the thought and my own reaction to it. My thought was, Sucker, you are what the creator says you are.

She pouted, attempting to look angry, but it just made her look even cuter. I had this sudden urge to poke her nose for no reason at all. Yeah, I’m totally crazy, but I stopped myself.

“But you promised!” she exclaimed.

"I did, but I'm sorry, I can't help it. That is definitely the sickest motivation ever."

"Okay, then what's the stupidest thought?" I asked, chuckling.

Mr. James, shouted from his table, "Quiet down over there!"

But we just ignored him.

"Life is like a spoon," she replied instantly, and we both burst into laughter.

After a moment of calming down, I asked her another question.

"The craziest thought?"

She was already laughing before she even answered.

"I will absolutely judge a book by its cover and bite the hand that feeds me."

As soon as she finished, we were hit with another wave of laughter. My lungs were burning, and I wanted to fall back from laughing so hard.

"Get out!" Mr. James' voice cut through our giggles. We grabbed our stuff and hurried out of the library, still trying to stifle our laughter.

We ended up at the back of the school, on a bench, still laughing like crazy. When I finally managed to catch my breath, I found myself mesmerized by Kimberly. The way she laughed, her eyes tearing up a bit from all the giggles, her cheeks flushed, and her hair falling artfully across her face—it was hard not to stare.

She noticed I was staring and glanced behind her, finding no one there.

Then she turned back to me. For seven seconds, our eyes locked, and I was in heaven before she broke the spell.

"What are you staring at like that?" she asked, poking my arm, trying to tuck her hair behind her ears against the breeze.

It wasn’t working.

"Your eyes," I replied, not looking away. I had no idea where this sudden burst of confidence had come from.