Always the same words.

“Good morning, Miss Greyson.”

Those same, four, infuriating words. He will then, with a nod and a quick, uneasy –as if he knows how much it’s bugging her– smile, turn back to whatever book he is currently reading, and she will sit next to him and also take out a book –never the same one as him; last time that happened it had disastrous consequences–. She knows he’s afraid, and she doesn’t want to compound the situation, so this ritual joins the list of other things that must be done to ensure the day’s success –she becomes dependant–.

At 12:05, she will finish sorting through her bag for the afternoon and head to the library.
It’s a big one, an entire building in itself, rows and rows of books and books stretching on for what seems like eternity –but she knows it isn’t–.
She will go to the desk and sign in at exactly 12:10, and then go to the first row on the right- romance novels.
She will browse for two and a half minutes, ultimately selecting the same book she does every day.
It’s her favourite –because he, under the pseudonym of Samuel J. Morgan, wrote it for her–.

With this book in hand, she’ll walk right to the back of the building, right to the last row that is hidden under the raised platform that is the second floor, and there she’ll see him.
he’ll be sitting on the same chair, in the same position –and he’ll have read twenty-six pages since he sat down– and here, completely out of sight and out of mind of anyone else, he’ll allow her to get close.
She will pull up a chair next to him and hold his hand while she reads the book he wrote for her –the way he expressed himself easiest was through writing, he said– and in –exactly– fifteen minutes and thirty-seven seconds, the bell for lunch will ring. He will kiss her on the cheek –always the left, ever the left– and then head for the exit.

She knows he’s shy. She knows he’s afraid. She knows that’s why he acts secretive around other people. But she also knows –with every fibre of her being– that she wouldn’t have him any other way.