Page 3 of I Met Him At The Library

Ryan was here to stay, so I kept myself as far away from him as I could. It wasn’t until I was forced into going to the library daily, to escape my loud upstairs neighbor, that I even saw him more than once every couple of weeks or months. Previously, I’d write from home and avoid most social interactions.

Grabbing my pre-made dinner, I popped the lid off the glass pan, and placed it in the microwave to heat up. On Sunday and Thursday nights, I would cook extra and meal prep dinners for the week. If I didn’t, I’d be at the diner or the bar every single night to eat. And being in public where that bitch, Rose Hill, would make some sort of comment about my supposed lack of self control being why I wasn’t a size two.

“I’ll take it into consideration, Rose,” was my standard response to get her to back off.

I was happy with my body, it got me from point A to point B, and did a lot for me. Was I skinny? No, not even “average,” whatever that meant, but I was happy with who I was. It took me a long time to be comfortable in my own skin. I’d be damned if I let anyone try to make me feel bad because I had jiggly parts.

“Hey girl!” Meghan shouted from my doorway, pulling me from my little pep talk.

“In here,” I shouted back from the kitchen.

Meghan had a key, not that my door was locked when I was home during this time of year. Once tourist season started, I’d lock my door when I was home, too. But in the off season, I left it unlocked until I went to bed - especially when Meghan was off work.

“Did you hit your word count today?” She asked, dropping into a chair in my eat-in kitchen.

“I did.” I nodded once.

No one but a few select people knew the truth about my career. My two best friends, Meghan and Poppy were the only ones outside of my parents. Meghan was my developmental editor and Poppy was my cover designer. Poppy lived in Chicago with her husband and worked as a freelance graphic designer. Meghan worked as a freelance editor during the day and a couple nights a week at the only bar in town.

When questioned about my job, we all claimed I was a freelance writer in order to avoid judgment. My parents were proud of what I did, but there were quite a few religious people in this town who wouldn’t be as cool. So, we kept it a little family secret.

“Awesome, then I think we should celebrate, and you should come out with me.”

“Can’t we ‘celebrate’ here?” I whined as I pulled my food from the microwave and joined her at my four seat table.

“No, you haven’t left your apartment in months unless it’s to go to the library. You need to go out and people watch,” she said, her russet brown eyes twinkled at me.

She was an inch shorter than me at five-seven, and she had dark brown hair she styled into waves almost daily. She never wore a lot of makeup, but she didn’t need it with those high cheekbones, a button nose, and wide brown eyes. Meghan was plus-sized, like me, but her waist dipped in more than mine, and she took advantage of it by wearing clothes that accentuated her curves beautifully.

She wasn’t wrong, either. People watching was a great way to glean new ideas for my characters. However, I already knew nearly every single person in town, and I’d studied them for all thirty-three years of my life. There wasn’t anything new to see or find out.

“If I go out tonight, will you promise not to ask me to go out again for a few weeks? I really should write at night too,” I paused and glanced up at the ceiling, “Well, try to write.”

“Do you want me to go talk to her?” Meghan asked, her eyebrows pulling inward.

I wasn’t much of a people person, and I tried hard to avoid confrontation. Talking to my new-ish neighbor about the volume she played her music, or the sounds I would hear later in the evening, could, potentially, be mortifying. Meghan often offered to speak to people for me, but I always turned the offers down. I was a grown up, I could handle it by just dealing with the noise.

I shook my head and waved my hand, “No. I don’t want to cause her any problems.”

“Do you know anything about her?”

“Haven’t even met her, she moved in about two months ago. All I know is she plays her music all day, has a lot of … other kinds of noises at night, and by ten she’s as quiet as a mouse.”

Meghan tried to stop a smile as she leaned forward, “What types of other noises?”

“The kind a woman would make if she were doing explicit online content.”

Meghan’s eyes widened, “Go girlfriend.”

“Right? So I don’t want to bother her. I understand how she might not want people in this town knowing what she’s doing.”

“No. If the Hills found out, I’m afraid they’d chase her out of town with holy water or something,” Meghan sneered.

I nodded and continued eating my meal. Meghan started talking about a book she was currently editing. Meanwhile, I was quietly preparing myself for dealing with people. Years ago, I was dubbed the town recluse because of my introverted ways. I didn’t mind it. It meant people knew what they could expect from me, and it wasn’t being involved in the drama or being the subject of it.

It also meant they considered me to be boring, so they wouldn’t look in my direction as much for gossip. Every few weeks, I would make a public appearance at the bar. I’d say hello to old classmates, and the older regulars, then come home completely mentally drained. It made Meghan happy. She talked to everyone in town, but I was her best friend like she was mine. So, for her I’d suck it up for an evening, deal with people, and then come home exhausted. At least I wouldn’t have to listen to my upstairs neighbor pornstar moan all evening.

Chapter 3

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