Page 9 of When We Were Young

Shoot. I got lost in my thoughts again. I do that a lot when he’s around.

“Uh, sure. That will work. I’ll meet you at the desk in a few.”

Five minutes later, I’ve got the library door locked and the main lights dimmed so no one mistakes it for being open. When I finish, Holden is waiting at the circulation desk for me, as promised.

“Okay, boss. I’m at your service.”

Over the next forty-five minutes, we make easy conversation as we stroll through the stacks and shelve the books. The time flies, and we spend most of it talking about school.

When I ask him what he’s majoring in, the reason for all the time he puts in here makes more sense.

“Civil engineering. Then I’ll go on and get my master’s in structural engineering. This semester, calculus has been killing me. Or it was before I spent so much time in the library.”

I glance over at him, and he winks at me.

I grab a book from him, turn, and head to the area where it belongs.

“How about you? What are you studying?”

“Business management and a minor in English literature.”

I wait for the comments I’m sure are heading my way. Landon never passes up an opportunity to tell me I’m choosing a “wasted” degree. He doesn’t know all of my plans, though, which is how I want to keep it.

“Cool. What are you hoping to do with that after you graduate?” Holden asks.

I peer over at him and search his face, but see no insincerity there. Still, I fix my gaze on his eyes for several long seconds, looking for even the slightest hint that he’s being sarcastic. I find none.

“I’m hoping to open my own business one day. What I’m learning will hopefully come in handy.”

His gaze fixes on me, and he genuinely looks interested in what I’m saying. Huh.

“Tell me more about it.”

Tension suddenly fills me. Any time I’ve talked about my potential business goals—which is pretty much just with my dad—I’ve come out of the discussion feeling stupid and confused about my future.

I glance over at the circulation desk, then gesture toward it.

“That was the last book. I’ve got to pack my things, and then I’m ready to lock up.”

The next thing I know, Holden sits on the floor between shelves of books and rests his back against a stack. He peers up at me with those darn eyes.

“Five minutes. Sit and talk with me for five minutes. Seven at most. I want to know more about you, other than that you’re the beautiful girl who works in the library.”

He called me beautiful. In my old jeans and ratty hoodie, my hair tossed into a rushed ponytail, and with no makeup, he called me beautiful.

And now he wants to sit and talk.

I shouldn’t. It’s late. I can’t afford to like him too much. He can’t fit into my world right now.

Yet those eyes.

And he’s got the hint of a tentative smile that makes him look like he’s afraid I’ll say no, but he’s putting himself out there anyway.

So, the next thing I know, I’m on the ground opposite him. His smile broadens, and his eyes brighten. I pull the corner of my lower lip between my teeth. I’m nervous now, but I also do it when I’m thinking, and pretty much with any powerful emotion. It reminds me what a bad habit it is when the sore spot I’ve created inside my mouth hurts. I release my lip and work on appearing chill.

“What do you want to know? I’m an open book.”

A few beats of laughter escape me at my use of the book pun.