I set up my station.

Book in the middle, pens to the right, pencil case to the left, laptop to the front.

Then I got up and headed into the aisles, looking for texts on unicorns today. Because why not? A horse to run away from things on, but also with a weapon on its head to spear people it doesn't like. Sounded great to me.

As I browsed the titles, head tilted to the side to read the spines, I could feel his presence nearby.

The library was so quiet, I could almost hear the turning of pages and fingers tapping on keyboards from those near us.

Nonetheless, I didn't hear him approach behind me. Rather, it was more like I felt it. His footsteps had made no noise, his breath seemingly absent in the still air around us.

But there was this vague aura of being watched... of the crashing of waves trying to pull me in.

When I turned around, happy with my selection of texts, I hadn't expected him to be that close though.

Coming to a stop just before I ran into him, my eyes stayed fixated on his black shirt, unable to look at his face.

I could feel the burn of his gaze looking down on me.

However, before I had a chance to ask him to move out of the way, he mumbled, "I'm sorry."

Caving, I let my eyes meet his, fully prepared to dismiss him. But the torment that echoed in the blue stopped me in my tracks. "You have nothing to be sorry for," I said in a low voice, stepping to the side to walk around him, not wanting to start an argument with someone who looked that sad... but also not capable of being whatever he needed right now to battle his own demons. I was in enough pain...

Evidently, he felt bad about standing me up. But the fact that he felt the need to apologise to me... well, it was clear that this was not all some miscommunication or that something came up. He was apologising because he had done the very thing I feared: he stopped coming because he had gotten what he wanted.

I knew then that I didn't want to get involved with someone whose consistency was already this unreliable, which was why I was doing my best to avoid him.

But he had stepped along with me, stopping me from leaving.

Peering at him again, a flicker of annoyance set in. "Excuse me," I said bitterly.

"I know I shouldn't be seeing you again, but... I can't help it," he whispered, a cacophony of indistinguishable emotions swirling in his iridescent blue eyes that had me plunging back into their depths the longer I stared.

"Maybe you should listen to what your instincts are telling you," I challenged, trying my best to not fall into his crashing waves again. I was stronger than this... I had to be stronger than this.

"Screw instincts. I... I..." he stammered.

"You what?" I demanded, shifting my weight to one foot and my books to the other arm, getting tired of their growing heaviness.

Noticing this, he gently pulled a couple books from the top, holding them in both hands as he looked to the ground. "I enjoy talking to you. And I know it's not right to say that considering I didn't even tell you I wouldn't show up. And I know I should have stayed gone because you'd be much better off not getting mixed up in my mess but—"

I cut him off. "Save the story about how much of an archetypal bad boy you are for the books."

His eyes met mine once more, shock replacing his previous expression. "I'm not necessarily a bad person... My life is just really... complicated."

And I got it. I really did. But I had already built such a high wall over the past few days that I wasn't ready to knock down. Moreover, I was scared of that pained feeling, like I had lost a limb. I already had to deal with it every day before he arrived. I didn't want an actual person who I could miss alongside the dread.

But I merely stared at him. Trying to read him. Though I couldn't figure him out. What was fake and what was real?

In the end, I stepped around him, and, this time, he let me keep walking.

The smart thing to do would have been to keep going. To walk away from someone who was already this difficult, inconsistent, and painful.

But I wasn't smart.

When I got to the end of the aisle, I came to a stop, turning my head around to him. "Are you coming?"

· · ───── ∘☽༓☾∘ ───── · ·

We sat back at our usual table, not saying anything as I reset my belongings. Glancing over at him, sitting there, eyes locked on the wooden surface, I finally broke the silence first.

"Are you not reading today?" I asked.

"I've finished reading everything I have to."

Nodding, I looked back down at my book, feigning disinterest. Meanwhile, my head was racing with questions.

Did he really come here today just to see me?

To apologise?

To spend time with me?

Does this mean I should just forgive him?

Or should I demand some form of explanation.

What's the right thing to do here?

Unable to concentrate on the words on the page thanks to my racing thoughts, I looked back up at him. "Where were you?" I reluctantly asked, hating that the need for answers outweighed my decision to ignore the past.

Hesitating, he responded with, "Home."

"Why?" I said, tired.

His lips pursed. "It was too hot to go out," his response was slow, measured.

Scoffing, I slammed my book shut. "Seriously? That's all you've got?" I retorted before beginning to shove my belongings back into my bag.

Though as I picked up my pencil case, his hand came down on mine suddenly.

My unjustified overreaction disappeared in an instant, bringing my movements to a stop.

His hand was like a blanket on top of mine—cozy and homely.

And the warmth... it began at his touch. Ever so slowly, a glowing heat spread up through my arm, to my heart, then permeated through me.

All at once, like a lasso, my heart threw itself out at him, compelling me to meet his eyes as this indescribable pull dragged me closer in my seat towards him.

Butterflies, blushing, goosebumps, stammering. These were sensations I associated with mere crushes. With falling for someone at first. But this feeling... this one went way deeper. Foreign and familiar at the same time, I couldn't remember anyone who had stirred such a desire from me. It felt like a force out of my control. And my sudden obvious acknowledgement of how much I liked this boy in front of me terrified me.

But I was stuck. Unable to run from it. Enchanted by his eyes upon me that stared back in a similar awe.

His lips were slightly parted, jaw slack in surprise, eyebrows turned downwards as his gaze softened into me.

"Olivia," he whispered, his voice tainted in kindness, softness, and admiration.

What is this sensation... I thought, though my mouth and body failed to move.

Then, as a small, genuine smile slipped onto his face, he ever so slowly removed his hand from on top of mine. The anger and anxiety that had previously consumed me had disappeared. That insatiable pull towards him began to ease off at the absence of his touch.

What the fuck was that? my mind then demanded more loudly.

"I suppose there's no running from this now, is there?" he whispered, stirring the air around us.

Blinking a couple of times, I wanted to tell him he was wrong. But I was glued to my seat, my eyes on him, my heart increasing in pace with each beat.

The truth was, I wanted to touch him again. I wanted him to touch me again. I wanted to know if whatever happened was a one off or if... if there really was some unexplainable connection now going on between us.

The space this desk made was too much. The intensity of my sudden adoration of him was too much.

I barely knew the guy. I was hating him moments ago. But now...

There was no running away. At least, not while those eyes were caressing my soul.