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“Well, since Thea is our Children’s Librarian, she can help you better than I could. Thea,” she says, snapping me into focus and throwing me under the bus.
“Sure. Would love to help.” I plaster on the fakest smile I can muster, knowing that both of these people standing in front of me can probably see right through it.
I march towards the kid’s books, not looking to see if he’s following because I know he is. I can feel his nearness.
I round on him as soon as we’re out of eye-shot from the rest of the library. “What are you doing?” I huff, looking past him to make sure we’re alone.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay. I came by yesterday but you weren’t here. I was worried.” He was worried about me… That means he really cares right?
“It was my day off,” I explain, trying to ignore my heart swelling. I’m still too confused by all my other doubts.
“Ah.” He readjusts his hat, nervously.
“I’ve been thinking a lot the past few days but I’m still confused. The lies hurt and not being able to tell Nathan hurts. I don’t even know what dating you would look like if-” I stop myself from finishing my thought out loud. What will it even look like if you can’t touch me?
He doesn’t know that part about me, yet. I’ve been keeping that secret from him this entire time even after he’s admitted his own.
“I meant what I said the other day. I want you in my life in whatever way you’ll have me. I want to see where this goes because it feels special. You are special,” he admits softly, tugging at my heart.
He’s too nice. Despite the lies, he’s been so kind to me since day one. We’re only steps away from the spot we stood the other night when we both opened up about our past.
He told me he had been in a group home. That wasn’t a lie, was it? No. He wouldn’t lie about that.
Right?
It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t change the fact that I can’t pursue this due to my own issues. Like a coward, I deflect my inner turmoil back onto him.
“The Army took my brother from me for years and I just got him back. How am I supposed to go through that again if this goes somewhere?” It won’t go anywhere, that’s how.
The hurt flashes in his eyes instantly as if I slapped him, and I hate myself for it. I’m putting all the blame on him. It’s not fair, but I’m too afraid to admit that I’m the problem.
“I’m sorry. I’m not shutting you out, but my mind is running wild. I still need time to think.”
“I’ll leave you to your work then. I’ll be around.” He walks away, leaving me in the corner of the fiction section, yearning to run after him. I don’t.
It isn’t until a few hours go by that I realize his “I’ll be around” wasn’t a figurative statement. He never left the library, instead taking up station at his normal table, only getting up every once in a while to look at different books, then returning to his same seat.
A few times I’ve caught him looking at me, but just as many times he’s caught me staring at him. It’s all very odd to experience, but I can’t deny how much I like it.
Catching his eyes on me feels secretive, but exciting. He shouldn’t be entertaining me, he should be focusing on his job, but he’s here for me. Knowing his secret when no one else does? It makes me feel important.
Feeling special to someone should be euphoric. I want it to be, but I also hear the clock ticking, telling me that my time is almost up. It won’t be long until I’m forced to face the facts.
He can’t touch me. No man can.
I have been deprived of physical intimacy because of the demon from my past. The years have gone by, and my mind has done the work and tried to heal, but my body won’t listen. I need to tell him. I need to be honest.
I’m so ashamed that the very thought of admitting how broken I truly am makes me sick to my stomach. He doesn’t deserve a woman who he can’t touch.
I have to tell him to stay away from me. Despite the depth of my yearning for him already, it’ll be easier to stay away from him than to be near him, knowing we’ll never be.
I’m so confused. About him, about my life.
An hour before storytime, I’m knee-deep in the children’s encyclopedias that need to be loaned to the local elementary school and I don’t even notice someone hovering until Latisha clears her throat. I glance up at her, but she’s on the other side of the island, raising her eyebrows at me suggestively.
I whip my head around, realizing that I’m not sitting alone in my little bubble like I thought. Jesse is leaning against my side of the counter holding a plastic bag.
“What’s this?” The smell of the food hits me before I finish my question.
