Library Girl

I didn't want to go to the Library that day. I didn't want to spend my entire day sitting silently in a giant room filled with boring books even more boring people reading them. But as luck would have it, my roommate placed the infamous sock on the handle, which meant that I'd be out of a place to study for my history exam for God knows how long, which means that I was left with only two options; the Library to finish my studies or studying in the dorm room across the hall. The latter seemed like the best solution until I remember that Jason Malone was in the dorm across the hall from me. Jason Malone had a nasty habit of cutting his toenails wherever, whenever he so pleased. The last time I had gone in his dorm to study, a nail clipping nearly blinded me. The Library was my last choice.

Taking a seat at an empty table that was situated between aisles of shelves with the giant E - F - G letters on each of them, I opened my bag and began reading my textbook, trying to focus on the words I knew would leave me as soon as my exam was handed to me. That's the worst thing about college; the work gets harder and you mature and begin thinking like an adult, yet the same stupid anxiety that you've had since you were eight doesn't change at all. Somewhere between the French Revolution and the Reign of Terror, I decided to take a look around. That's when I saw her.

She was sitting three tables down from me, her head resting in her hand, and tears streaming down her face. I had seen my fair share of breakdowns since starting college. From the mini-freakouts in the classroom when the date of an exam was pushed up to the all out strap-me-in-a-straight-jacket-because-I've-gone-nuts breakdowns. But this girl didn't look like she was crying because she found out she's failing a class or like she was just crying to cry (something I've learned girls do... a lot). She was crying, but her breathing wasn't ragged and her demeanor she had was calm, yet enamored in the book she was reading. It was strange and it appeared to be cathartic. Even though the tears were flowing, she continued to read page after page after page, her eyes scanning each line rhythmically, pausing here and there to wipe a tear track away or to take a deep breath.

I'm not sure how long I watched her, but she never noticed me. After reading what seemed to be the end of a chapter, she closed the book, packed up her things and just as calmly as she cried, she left. As she slipped her book into her bag, I caught the title of it. I tried to remember where I had seen or heard the name of the book before, and then it dawned on me. My roommate Alex had a girlfriend in the beginning of the semester who was - for lack of better word - a hipster. From wearing those stupid thick framed black glasses, drinking nothing but tea, and of course, reading all the books that were all the rage on her blog site. This book, the book the girl three tables down from me was just crying over, was one of the many books that Allison (my roommates ex-girlfriends name) tried desperately to make me and Alex read.

"It's just so powerful," she said for what seemed like the hundredth time as she sat on Alex's bed, her legs drapped over his as me and him tried to focus on the movie we were both watching on my laptop. I gave Alex a sideways glance and he rolled his eyes, trying his best to ignore his girlfriend, "The character developement is beyond perfect. The writer is a god I tell you, a literary god. The emotion he puts into each line -"

"Allison can you stop talking please?" I had to think for a moment if I was the one who said that sharply agitated sentence. But I realized when I saw Allison's dark brown eyes sending daggers towards Alex that he was the one who finally spoke up. I knew there was a reason I liked him so much. Great minds think alike.

"What? It's a phenomenal book and it's -"

"Powerful. I know. I've known since you first got the book three days ago and all you do is talk about it."

A fight ensued and I quietly crept out of the room, my laptop with me, and made my way down the hall and down the stairs to the courtyard, where I watched the rest of my movie. I remember thinking at that time that my movie was a million times better than any sappy romance novel that Allison or any other girl tried to shove down my or any guys throat. And yet, here I was, going to the fiction section of the Library to find this book and read it. Call it boredom, call it procrastination, or call it just plain old intrigue, but something drew me into the book that was now in my possession for the next week. Maybe I just wanted to know what all the fuss was about when it came to the book...Or maybe, I really just wanted to know what it was that made a girl like the girl three tables down from me cry the most peaceful, calm, and composed tears I had ever seen.

"Oh my god, you're joking, right?" said Alex later that night when he came back from the showers. I was sitting on my bed, my attention nearly all put into the pages and lines of the book I was reading. If it wasn't for Alex whistling a tune as he walked into our dorm, I probably wouldn't have even noticed him there, "All those times you made fun of Allison for reading and liking that book, and now you're reading it?"

I put the book down for a moment and smirked, "Think of it as research."

Alex began to get dressed, a look of disdain still on his face, "Please, tell me what kind of 'research' involves reading that book?"

"An interesting one." I replied simply, going back to the story that was playing out not only on the pages, but in my mind as well. Even though I'm not the best reader in the world, nor is it one of my favorite things to do, I had to admit it was one of the best things about books was how they sort of play out like a movie in your head. I guess that's what most of my teachers were trying to get across when they said that we should read more and watch television less. Then again who knows.

"Weird dude, just weird." laughed Alex and he ran his fingers through his hair and plopped down on his bed, falling asleep instantly as usual. I glanced at the clock and saw it was just past ten thirty, which meant I had the rest of the night to myself. Usually I would have taken this opportunity to go on my laptop or watch a couple of movies or make popcorn or some sort of food to keep me occupied, but that would mean I would have to stop reading.

And for the first time in my life, I chose reading a book over food.

I was never really an 'emotional' guy. Wait, let me rephrase that: I was never an openly emotional guy. Sure, I had my times, but everyone does. I was always the one that had mastered the art of choking back tears or holding myself together when the time called for me to cry every once in a blue moon. But usually, the tears I cried were over a death of a family member or a pet, and they were seldom at that. Part of me blamed my father for that. He was a good guy and all, but he was a man's man. Even the slightest showing of tears when I was younger almost always drew snide remarks from my father about my 'toughness'.

"Boys don't cry, Dylan."

"Suck it up."

"Stop being a baby, Dylan."

Although he meant well, these words kind of became a sick sort of mantra for me whenever I felt the prickly feeling of tears in the back of my eyes. So, you would think that if I could hold back tears when a family member or my dog Jimbo passed away, I wouldn't even be emotionally moved by a book.

Wrong.

I found myself lying on my bed at three in the morning, my eyes filled to the brim with tears. I turned my back away from Alex's bed in fear that he would look and see me and never ever let me live down the fact that I was crying over some dumb book. But that was just the thing. I was crying over a dumb book. What kind of person would write a book so tragic and so incredibly sad? I had half the mind to write this guy and email and rip him a new one for making a story that made my stomach hurt with every turn of the page. I was just about to grab my laptop and do it when I came to a realization. Maybe this sick, twisted writer wrote this book for a reason that was more than making people like me and the girl from the library cry. This was the first time in a long time I felt something so powerfully emotional like this. Part of me blamed it on the fact that the main characters major story arch was coming to terms with the fact that his mother was dying - a very sensitive subject for me. So, perhaps this guy wrote this book to make people like me actually feel something and come to terms with the thing they had run away from or tried to forget.

Sitting back down on my bed, I closed my eyes and let the tears that were still brimming in my eyes slowly fade away until they were gone. Rolling over onto my side to turn off my light, I wondered if the girl from the library felt the same way I did about the book. Closing my eyes once more, I pictured my mom. I mean, she did die when I was seven, but the hurt was still there I guess. My dad, he never came to terms with her dying completely either. Me and my dad, we never really got along once I turned seventeen. For a long time, I just figured that he was mad about mom dying when I was still young and in a way I think he is. But now with all these new thoughts and emotions swirling around in my mind like a vortex, I started to think that maybe, just maybe, my dad started with me or was on my case so much because he knew that one day, I would leave him too. Not in a way like my mom did, but in the growing up kind of way. I was all he had. He was all I had too.

So the next morning when I called him and we had a three-hour phone call, when he said "I love you, son" I actually felt him mean it. He said it because he wanted to. Not because he had to say it.

It became something like a ritual after that first day in the Library. I'd sit in the same spot and almost every day, she'd be there sitting at her same table. At first I didn't want to come off creepy, so I'd bring one of my text books or homework and do it in the library while watching her at the same time. But even then, she never saw me. I wasn't Mr. Popular with the girls back at home, but I did get my fair share of attention. I think part of me was curious about why she didn't see me. A few times I showed up wearing the most atrocious shades of neon colored shirts and hoodies in hopes to catch her eye, but nothing. Just a few weird glances from the other students that had to shield their eyes to prevent themselves from going blind. Then I got a genius idea in the middle of my sociology class. I was so proud of myself for thinking of it that I let out a 'who-hoo!' during my professors letcure and recieved a mix of laughs and stink eyes from my classmates.

but my plan was genius nonetheless. It seemed almost fool-proof. Instead of drawing her attention by way of wearing astetically unpleasing colors, I realized that the best way to get her attention was by doing the same thing she was doing. A 'monkey-see-monkey-do' sort of mind frame if you will. If she saw that a guy who was there almost every time she was there was reading the book she had just finished, maybe she would notice him because they shared similar interest in books. Sounds perfect right? I mean, even just writting it down now makes it seem like it was a brilliant idea.

So I tried it for three weeks.

Three weeks and roughly six books later, nothing. Not even a passing glance in my direction. I was crushed, but during this time, I started to notice little things about her that I didn't before. Her hair was a pretty shade between red and blonde and it fell in a straight line across her mid-back. Her nails had chipped purple nail polish and she had a habit of bitting her thumbnail whenever she was reading long, descriptive paragraphs in her books. I noticed somewhere in week two that she had freckles going across the bridge of her nose and spreading across her cheeks. By most means of the word, this girl wasn't a supermodel or breath-takingly beatiful. She was just...normal. But when she smiled...

It was one of those smiles you can't find on those ads for dentist or toothpaste. It was one of those smiles that not even celebrities have. Her teeth weren't completely straight and one side of her mouth was longer than the other but my God, when she smiled everything that seemed normal about her went straight to beyond normal. The corner of her eyes went up and her cheeks got rounder and a small dimple on her right cheek emerged. Sure, she looked like a normal girl most of the time, but when she smiled or laughed while reading, it was like you were watching someone straight from Heaven smiling at you.

My Dad suggested before the semester started that I should find a job in or around the campus to keep me occupied as well as give me a chance to have some money while at school. Much to my misfourtune, I got a job at a coffee shop just down the road from my school. I can't lie to you, it was pretty boring. It was like having to sit and listen to between ten and twenty Allison's talking about the most pointless things for the entirety of your shift. One day, it was pretty bad. My boss was in a pissy mood and to make matters worse, the new coffee shop opened down the block with an edge over us. It sold Nutella with every large coffee purchase. Needless to say, the main chunk of our customers were filling to get in line at the new, nutella-serving coffee shop, leaving us with two, maybe three customers at most that day. I was cleaning off the counter to keep myself occupied when I heard the bell above the door ring out, telling me that a customer was walking in.

"Hi, welcome to Alan's Coffee House, what can I get -"

Oh my God.

Oh my God.

It was her.

Library girl.

Oh my God.

She looked up at the menu and scanned it over, then look at me with a small smile, "Just a small frappuccino, please." Her voice was nice. It was soft and pleasant, just like the shade of brown her eyes were. I almost asked her how she liked the ending of the book I was currently reading, but then I was hit with the sudden realization as I was making her order that she hadn't the slightest clue who I was. It stung a little, knowing that someone I watched and felt completely intune with had no idea I even existed. I rang her in for her drink and she took a seat in the corner booth, taking out her headphones and putting them in.

I felt like the biggest creep in the world. Heck, I was the biggest creep in the world. What kind of guy sits in the same spot almost everyday in hopes of seeing some girl, just to watch her read and watch her reactions to what she was reading. It was weird and I was the first person to admit it. Even watching her now as she gazed out the window I felt like I needed to stop and go back to what I was doing before. It was just the shock of seeing her out of the enviorment I had come to know her in. Almost like when you were in elementary school and you saw your teacher in front of you in the check out line at the grocery store buying coffee and toliet paper.

I was cleaning off the counter once more when she left, her eyes glancing to me for a second and a small grin on her face. Neither the smile she gave me earlier to that one were even close to the smiles I had grown to adore and wait for while watching her in the Library. I felt - in a way - let down after seeing her that day at my job. It was crazy, but a good part of me hoped that she would see me, recognize me, and the rest would be history. But as I watched her walk down the street then out of sight, I realized that this whole time I had been just playing the hopeless romantic card way too hard. I wasn't really anybody to her, and by no fault of her own either. I was too afraid most of the time to talk to her or even say hello. If there was one person to be mad at for her not knowing who I was, it was myself.

It had been a week since I saw Library girl at my work and finals were approaching for the fall semester, and once more, Alex had his sock on the doorhandle. Not wanting to run the risk of seeing Library girl again and making myself upset, I decided to go to Jason Malone's dorm room to study. Luckily for me, I had just missed Jason's nail-cutting time. I was really trying to focus on studying, but all I kept seeing in my mind were those big brown eyes that belonged to Library girl and her amazing smile. Apparently, I wasn't too good at hiding what I was feeling.

"You alright there, Dyl?" asked Jason from his desk.

"Fine." I mumbled under my breath, my eyebrows knitting together as I tried to regain focus on my text book.

"Doesn't seem that way to me."

"I'm fine, Jason." I said once more. Jason knew better though. Sure, he was annoying and mostly unhygenic, but he wasn't an idiot.

"You're an awful liar, Dylan." He also knew how to get under someone's skin. Or mine at least. Slamming my text book shut, I rolled my eyes and looked up at him. Then, it all poured out of me like the floodgates had opened. I told him everything. From how it all started to where I was now, alone and feeling rejected, even though she never even knew who I was other than the guy at the coffee shop. Jason was quiet for a while after I was done speaking and I felt even more like an idiot. In my mind, Jason Malone could care less about what was going on in the personal life of his dorm-neighbor.

"Nevermind, it's stupid." I muttered, opening my book and praying that the bed I was sitting on would just swallow me whole.

Finally, Jason spoke up, "Why don't you just write her a letter?"

"A what?"

"A letter," he repeated, turning his chair so that he was facing me, "I mean, you said you feel like a creep for never introducing yourself to her, right?" I nodded in agreement, "And if you just walked up to her and said 'Hi, I've been watching you for the past two months now and I think you're perfect', she'd probably report you to the campus police and have a restraining order put against you."

"You're not helping, Jason."

"I'm getting there. Anyway, you said that she's a reader, right?"

"Yeah. New book almost everyday."

"So having someone handwrite her a letter explaining everything to her would be something that not only sparks her interest, but would send her over the moon with happiness. And worst that happens is that -"

"She think's I'm a freak and I lose any chance I had with her." I sighed. Jason gave me a warm smile and shrugged.

"Yeah, she might...But it's worth a shot, right?"

I always knew there was something I liked about Jason Malone.

I was sweating. It was the beginning of December and I was sweating bullets as I waited for her to show up at the Library. Everything was planned out. I had written the letter the night before and after making four drafts of it, I finally felt satisfied with it. That day when I went to the Library I handed the letter to the librarian at the front desk with instructions to give the letter to Library girl. Once I gave the librarian a description of what Library girl looked like, the older woman gave me a genial smile.

"I think Lucy will love it."

Lucy. Her name was Lucy. It fit her perfectly.

The minutes seemed like hours as I waited in that seat for her. I pulled out a notebook and began to doodle and write on the page to keep me occupied, but I kept finding myself looking towards the door in hopes of seeing her walk in. What if she wasn't coming today? With my luck, it would happen that way. I began to beat myself up mentally over the whole thing. It was stupid of me to think that Library girl - I mean Lucy - would even care about someone like me. If she saw me or even knew about how I watched her and was so captivated by her, she'd probably just run away. I flipped through my notebook and found the last draft of the letter I wrote her before copying it onto a nicer piece of paper. Even though I was just going to depress myself, I read over it.

Dear girl who sits at the table between the C, D and E shelves,

I don't know how to really start this, but I guess from the beginning wouldn't hurt. When I first saw you crying in the beginning of the semester, I was taken back. You're crying wasn't the usual crying I saw. You looked so peaceful and yet so heartbroken that I almost went over to ask what was wrong. But then I saw you were reading a book, and I was intrigued. I had never seen someone have such an emotional reaction to a book. I checked out the book that night to see what it was all about and I finished it around three in the morning, my eyes filled with tears. And, I guess, that's really how this whole thing started.

I know this is going to sound really creepy, but I started to go to the Library on an almost daily basis in hopes of seeing you again, and most of the time, you were there, sitting in the same spot but with a new book almost every time. So, it keep up with you, I would check out the book I saw you reading and so on and so forth. That was really all I was doing, until I started to notice all your little reactions while you were reading. Whether it be a heavy sigh, a roll of the eyes, a laugh...and then one day you smiled. When you smile, god, it's beautiful.

I really wish you'd notice me, I'm here, just a few tables away. I mean, I want to talk to you but I'm afraid I'll scare you away. So this is why I wrote you this letter. I hope you don't get weirded out but if you do I guess it makes sense. But just don't stop smiling. It's your best feature.

Oh and by the way, because you I now am an avid reader...maybe you can give me some more book recommendations sometime.

Love,

The guy who sits at the table between the E, F, and G shelves.

I picked up my head and closed my notebook. When I did, my heart almost stopped. Lucy was sitting down now, her eyes reading over a piece of paper. My letter. My heart was pounding hard against my chest and my palms began to sweat like crazy. She read it once, twice, three times over. Then, after the fourth time, she put it down and took a deep breath. She began looking around and I straightened my posture and tried not to look like I was staring at her. When she finally looked over at me, I didn't know what I was supposed to do. Do I give her a big grin? Do I wave? Do I walk over to her?

I didn't have to do anything. Her big brown eyes locked on me and after staring at me for what seemed like forever, she smiled that beautiful smile.

And I smiled back.