Page 8 of When We Were Young

“Holden?” Her voice is softer now. “Ignore what they’re saying about Library Girl. If you really like her, then get to know her. It doesn’t matter how old you are when you find your person.”

For a split second, I swear her eyes dart over to Heath.

“People finally understand when they find their person. You’re just being more mature than them.”

She smiles at me, and I wonder for a second why my little brother doesn’t see that his best friend would be a catch.

“Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it. We’ll see. I don’t need their blessing. I can rub it in their faces when the time comes.”

As I turn to walk around the couch, I catch sight of a red mark on her cheek. It’s not huge, but it’s there, and anger fills me. I force myself to keep walking so she doesn’t see the change in my demeanor. I don’t want to embarrass her. I need to talk to Heath, though, because if that jackass of a stepfather is hurting her again...

“Holden, come on over. We’re gonna do a best-of-five rematch,” Harrison calls. “Henry’s being a poor loser... again.”

I grin and join them at the table.

We spend the rest of the night playing cards, and even though we sometimes annoy each other, I’m grateful this is the family I was born into. I need to do better about making sure I don’t add any more worries to their already full plates.

Chapter Four

Lizzie

Ican’t help but stare, even if it makes me look obsessed with him. In fairness, I kind of am.

Holden has been here at the library every shift I’ve worked for the last two weeks. He stays until closing and waits for me to lock up, then watches until I’m safely in my car. I’m sure he’d walk me there and be the kind of guy to hold the door open, but I don’t allow him the chance. So, he stays by the bike rack and watches me like a hawk.

Each evening, he continues his unique studying method. A handful of students have come to the circulation desk and reported his behavior, so I’ve already explained several times that it’s how he studies. Once they know that, most ignore him and resume their work.

My watch vibrates on my wrist, alerting me that it’s ten minutes until the library closes. Other than me and Holden, there are only three other students present. I make my rounds and remind them all that it’s closing time. I approach him last.

“Psst! Time to pack up,” I say. I know I’ve pulled him out of his zone when he stops walking and gives me a thumbs up.

“Wow, already? That went fast tonight. Let me pack up, and I’ll meet you at the door. Okay?”

“Oh. Thanks, but you don’t have to wait tonight. I’ve got a bunch of books to re-shelve before I leave.”

I don’t tell him that the reason I didn’t finish my work is because I’ve been distracted, creepily watching him.

“All right. Let’s get the books, and I’ll carry them while you shelve.”

“No, I can’t ask you to do—” I shake my head at him.

“You’re not asking; I’m offering. I want to.”

My cheeks heat, and I’m sure they’re turning at least pink, but probably bright red.

Because I’m apparently incapable of playing it cool, I blurt out, “Why?”

His brow furrows, and he cocks his head, then busts out another one of those killer smiles. Every time I see that smile of his, a warm sensation runs through me, and my heart rate picks up a bit. Tonight’s no different. I swear my knees actually weaken.

“Why am I offering? Or why do I want to?” There’s a teasing air to his voice.

“Um, both, I guess.”

“Well, I’m offering because I want to, and I want to because I like you. So, meet you at your desk?”

At a loss for words, I stare at him. He likes me. Why does that make my lower belly flip-flop? I’m twenty-two years old, for God’s sake. I’ll be graduating from college in less than a year. I shouldn’t get giddy because a boy says he likes me.

“Lizette?”