Page 18 of When We Were Young

I rise and take my mug to the counter, then return to the table for my bag. Sylvia stands once I’m ready to go, and she pulls me into a tight hug.

“I love you, Lizzie. You’re the sister I never had, and I want only spectacular things for you. Sometimes, maybe, that gets me a little feisty, but it comes from a place of love. Okay?”

“I know. I love you, too. I promise, I’ll be okay.” I pull back from the hug. “Are we still on for breakfast tomorrow?”

“Absolutely, we are. I’ll see you then. Don’t forget to wear pants with a stretchy waistband this time. You need to keep up with me, or I look like a glutton.”

I shake my head and laugh as I walk away from her. Sylvia is maybe 110 pounds, soaking wet. If you don’t know her, you’d be shocked at how much food she can pack away into that tiny body. I chuckle thinking about it as I walk to my car.

Ten minutes later, Hank and I pull into my usual parking spot. I’ve got about one minute to get inside before I’m officially late. I’m a bundle of nerves because I have never cut it this close. If I’m not ten minutes early, I’m late.

As I rush inside to the circulation desk, the librarian has her bag out, ready to leave. She directs me to the pile of the newest romance books that arrived today, and because she knows I love the genre, tells me she saved them for me to display.

“Thanks, Marcy. I appreciate it.” I wave goodbye to her, and she’s only taken a few steps when she stops and turns back to me.

“I forgot to tell you. That small lavender box over there is for you. It appeared here while I was away from the desk, but it has your name on it.”

My gaze follows to where she’s pointing, and I see the box she’s talking about. It’s about four inches square. My heart speeds up.

When I retrieve the box, I open the small card on top first. It’s a simple pale lilac card with a stack of books embossed off to the side. It’s one of the prettiest cards I think I’ve ever seen. I wish I could find something like this for the notes I write. My hands tremble as I run a finger over the books on the front. Okay, here goes, I guess. I flip it open.

Dear Lizette,

I’m so happy that I met you and that we’ve become friends. I’m not sure what I did with myself before I crashed into that book display all those weeks ago. Our time in the stacks is the highlight of my day. Thank you for making life infinitely sweeter.

Love,

Holden

I glance toward where Holden usually sits every evening and find him watching me. His guarded smile makes me wonder what’s on his mind, what he’s worried about. I smile back at him, and his shoulders visibly relax, then he points toward the package.

When I return my focus to the box, I notice my hands aren’t shaking anymore, not now that I know it’s from him. I lift the lid off, and I’m surprised to see the entire box is filled with purple Skittles. I stare down into the sea of sugary goodness, and my breathing picks up a little. How many bags of skittles does someone have to go through to pick out this many purple? And how does he know they’re my favorite?

Because he pays attention to you.

I’m just a side character in the story most of the time.

Ah, there goes my inner voice butting in again. But I have to admit that I think it’s a true statement. The thought chokes me up. Besides Sylvia, no one really knows little things like this about me. Landon is too self-centered, and my mom is too much of a mess half the time to notice Lindsay and me. Lindsay is just as busy helping keep mom on track.

I don’t realize I’m crying until a plop of moisture, then another, lands on top of my hand. I turn my head to the side, and as discreetly as possible, wipe my tears on my shirt sleeve. When I feel like I’ve got it together enough, I take a deep breath, force a smile, and then turn my body towards the front of the desk.

Holden is making his way toward me, less than twenty feet away right now. His mouth turns down just a bit at the corners. I make myself smile bigger and silently berate myself for showing the level of emotion that I did over something as simple as a box of candies. But deep inside, I know it’s more than the candy. It’s what the candy, the thoughtful act, means.

When he reaches the circulation desk, Holden extends his arm across the desk and almost touches my hands before I pull them away and slide them into my pockets. His frown deepens, and he hesitates, but then pulls his hands back.

“Hey, are you okay?” Worry laces his words, and I feel bad that I’m the cause of it.

I know he can probably see right through me, but I nod.

“Are you sure? It looked like you were crying from where I sat.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I just had something in my eye.” I hate lying to him, even though I suspect we both know the truth. “Thank you for this. It’s really sweet. I guess it’s obvious I have a sweet tooth, huh?”

His eyes don’t divert, even for a second, from their intense stare at my face. It’s as if he’s searching for some reassurance that things are fine.

“It is to me,” he practically whispers. “You’re easy to know, Lizette. All someone has to do is make an effort to see you. And if they don’t, then they’re the ones who are missing out.”

I’m stunned, silent, wondering where he came from. It has certainly not been my experience that this is how men are. To be fair, I mostly have my dad, Landon, and Landon’s dad as examples. Tyler is thoughtful and attentive to Sylvia, but I think Holden might even give him a run for his money.