Page 11 of First Touch

The crisp air conditioning greets me as I walk through the two sets of double doors, a nice change from the humidity outside. Unlike the other days since I usually drive, I’m walking in through the street entrance and not the parking lot. The building isn’t huge, but it means I have to walk past all the other sections to get to my usual table that’s closer to the support group room.

A bout of laughter draws my attention to the vibrant Children’s Literature section. The carpets and bookshelves are all themed and colorful, much more exciting than the Adult’s side. Another chorus of giggles rings out and I can’t help but step closer. Something about seeing kids be carefree and happy heals something deep inside of me that’s shattered.

Being distracted by the children is short-lived because the prettiest smile that I’ve ever seen stops me dead in my tracks. The breath escapes my lungs and everything in me recalibrates upon seeing her. The man I was ten seconds ago is a different man than the one standing here right now, recognizing that beautiful smile.

Front and center, atop a stool, is a version of the girl from the bar that I never would have expected. Her hair isn’t pin-straight at all, it’s full of thick waves and curls.

She looked beautiful the other night, but the heavy makeup wasn’t doing her any favors compared to what I’m seeing now. If anything, it hid her. Even today, behind her delicate glasses, I can tell she looks fresh and authentic. Her natural beauty is radiant.

She looks at home here, not at that damn bar. She’s animating excitedly to the kids in front of her and it makes my heart ache in a way that I’d only feel comfortable addressing with a doctor. Or a therapist.

Another smile breaks out across her face and I feel myself mirroring it. My thoughts nearly jump from my brain and out of my mouth. Gotcha, Sunshine.

Having a hard time tearing my eyes away, I watch for a few more minutes. I want her to see me, but at the same time, I don’t. Not yet, anyway.

I want to be closer. I want to stand in front of her without anything between us and see the look in her eyes when she sees me. I want to watch the pink stain her cheeks. It’s all I’ve been able to think about.

To avoid disturbing her in her element, I drag myself away and over to my usual table. Now that I know where the recognition came from, I’m wondering how I didn’t notice her before… She’s stunning. Her whole being lights up when she smiles.

How could I be so unaware when I’ve been coming here for weeks? Why didn’t she say anything when she recognized me?

The egotistical side of my brain feels burned to think she might not have actually recognized me at all. I didn’t recognize her, but in my defense, she went through an entire wardrobe and personality shift from her day-to-night job.

Dammit. I came in here to read, not obsess over the girl with blonde hair and icy blue eyes. The one that parts the clouds when she smiles.

Something exciting needs to happen with this job so I can get my head out of my ass. I open up a book, but only get through the first page before the words start blurring together and I realize I’m not absorbing anything. Taking a second to rub my eyes and some sense into my brain, I stare at the page again, trying to take it in.

It doesn’t work. After a few moments, my focus goes hazy. My eyes are lasered in on the brown table top, my thoughts are moving a mile a minute on their own trajectory until I’m back in the desert with my Special Ops team.

The sand is thick in the air. The dust covering every surface is deep in my lungs. This op escalated quickly and now we’re sitting ducks. Despite the chaos around me, my pulse is steady and even. It’s hard to rattle me when I have nothing to lose. I’m more concerned about my team.

I strain my neck to get eyes on anyone else.

Nathan’s shouting at me from behind the cover of a Humvee about five yards away.

It’s too loud, shots are being fired from every side and an explosion has already left my ears ringing. His mouth keeps moving and I’m trying to decipher the words.

He shouts again, but I can only make out the last word. “… money.”

“Money?”

What? Why would he say that?

“You don’t care that you’re screwing me over?” The heightened volume snaps me out of my thousand-yard stare.

The words carried over from the other side of the library, loud enough to rouse me from my flashback and to pique concern.

I shake my head to clear it, confirming that what I’m experiencing is happening in real time and not in my mind.

Others around me are taking notice as well, craning their heads to see what the drama is. On instinct, I’m up, casually walking back toward the center of the library, needing to get my sights on what’s going down.

A young guy, probably Curtis’ age, is standing in front of the counter with his hands balled into fists on his hips, clearly agitated. It’s a library, what the hell does he have to be mad about?

I walk until I can get a clear view of everything, but I keep my distance. I don’t need to be involved, I just need to make sure I’m aware if something is wrong. When things turn ugly, I prefer to know all the details. The number of kids prancing about, where each person is in relation to the exits, and who else might be helpful if danger arises. Some of it is natural instinct, and some of it is military training that’s ingrained in me.

None of it matters as soon as I see what’s happening and who the dude is yelling at. My girl. The one I can’t stop thinking about.

As I absorb what I’m seeing, I watch her motion him out the doors into the courtyard. Fuck, Sunshine. Don’t put yourself alone with a man who’s yelling at you.

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