Page 56 of When You Smile

“Do you think people can be completely oblivious to their own sexuality?” Charlie asked Anders, the librarian’s assistant who never seemed to smile. He turned 180 degrees, now facing her, eyebrows low, mouth in a frown. He’d attempted one of those winter spray tans that hadn’t gone in his favor.

He stared at her hard. “Who talked to you?”

She tilted her head. “What? No, I’m not talking about you, Anders. I’ve not heard any kind of scandal associated with your dating history.”

“Oh.” He visibly relaxed. “Well, then we’re just speaking in the general sense?”

“We are. Very general.”

“Well”—he turned to face her fully—“studies have shown that people discover their true sexualities at all sorts of different junctures in life, some being more fluid than others, of course. There are a lot of factors to take into consideration—exposure, life experience, religious expectations, personal bias.”

“Right,” she said, chewing on the information. “I imagine a certain person could trigger an awakening.”

“They damn well can,” he said softly, gazing past Charlie at the wall, lost in a sea of his own thoughts and what looked to be spicy memories.

She folded her arms and nodded. “We’re really getting to know each other today, Anders.”

“What?”

She grinned and gave his arm a rub. “Nothing. You stay right where you are because that looks really nice. I’ll run the system update on this station for you.” She slid between him and the computer. The least she could do for the guy.

“I appreciate that,” he mumbled as the evening marched on, the library full of overcrowded tables, study groups exchanging notes and typing on shared Google Docs. There was a buzz in the air born of no sleep and overcrowded brains. Everyone was rushing to winter break and hurdling one exam at a time to get there. Luckily for Charlie, nearly all of her finals consisted of projects and papers she’d diligently prepared for in advance.

And as she left the library that evening, she paused on the steps because soft snowflakes had begun to fall. Backlit by the moon, they shimmered and swayed as they drifted to the ground with a grace that caught her right in the throat. Just then she heard the sound of a click, almost like a shutter, pulling her attention to life. There she saw Taryn seated on a bench, camera in her lap.

“Isn’t it beautiful?” Taryn asked with a soft smile. “I have a feeling that’s going to be a really breathtaking shot.”

Charlie turned, a grin already tugging because this was the most fantastic surprise. “What is going on here? Have you emerged from the doldrums of your cram session? I wasn’t expecting to see you for a few days.” Taryn had been drowning, having not prepared for exams in as timely a manner as Charlie had. One way they were different.

“I’m out of jail on account of good behavior. I worked through lunch and dinner so that I might get to come say hi.”

Charlie squinted in protector mode. She’d put on her black peacoat, navy newsboy cap, blue and white scarf, and matching gloves to exit the library in the frigid temps. Taryn, conversely, wore a light jacket and nothing else. Her dark hair was swept to one side and rested on her shoulder. Her neck was visible, stunningly attractive, and likely very cold. Yet another way they were different. “Where are your scarf and gloves?”

Taryn shrugged. “I like the cold, and this jacket is enough. Wanna sit?”

Charlie nodded and descended the remaining steps until she slid onto the bench next to Taryn. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Taryn said with a soft smile, her eyes never leaving Charlie’s. “My day just improved. Tell me about yours. It’s been hours since I’ve heard a single detail.”

“Hours? Wow.” Charlie took Taryn’s bare hands in her gloved ones, attempting to keep them warm. “I did have a rather exciting morning.”

“Already better than my History of Eastern Europe reading. What happened?”

Charlie sat a little taller, excited to share. “Remember the contact Monica set me up with at Broadland Rhodes? June DiCarlo?”

“The executive from the really fancy publishing house. Yes.”

“She called this morning and wants to set up a time for me to come to New York for a meeting, which I think is code for interview. I talked to Monica afterward, and according to her, if June likes me, I’m golden. She said to get my writing résumé together and include the couple of awards my short stories have pulled in.”

“Stop it. You’ve won awards?”

“Come over someday and I’ll show you. All three of them.” She added a laugh because Danny and Lawson had so many more.

“You could literally offer me uncooked broccoli from the kitchen floor and I’d be there.”

“You offend my culinary ability.”

“I forgot! You’re like Julia something, the one with the accent.”

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