Page 26 of As the World Falls

“Is that why you haven’t let go of my hand since we set foot on the jet?”

She looks down at our interlocked hands and rips hers away, her face one of disgust, and I only chuckle as I pull my hand back and look forward again.

“I can’t stand you,” she grumbles.

“Feelings mutual, babe.”

Once we land, Cecilia practically dives out of the jet, and she has no issue getting into my waiting car herself this time. She let out a long breath as she got into the passenger seat, and I slipped into the driver’s seat and began driving out of the parking garage.

“You look relieved,” I remark.

“Because I’m almost out of your presence.”

“What’s your address?”

“Just take me to the library.”

“What, you’re going to work now?”

“No, I just don’t feel comfortable giving a stranger, let alone a deranged one, my address. I have a friend there.”

I laugh now. “I’m hardly a stranger at this point.”

“That’s what you object to?” she guffaws.

I shake my head. “Fine. I’ll take you to the library.”

The car ride is silent the entire way there, and the closer we get, the more I begin feeling anxious. I couldn’t explain it. She annoyed the ever-loving life out of me, but at the same time, I couldn’t remember being so amused and distracted with something other than work for such a long time. I forgot what it was like to be doing anything other than work.

I park in front of the library, and she’s out of my car in a flash. I hurry out and follow behind her. She glares at me over her shoulder, stops on one of the steps that leads inside, and turns to face me.

“What are you doing?”

“Walking you inside.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“Maybe I want to apply for a library card. They’re free, right?”

“As if you couldn’t afford a million of them anyway,” she mumbles as she turns back to enter the library.

It’s quiet when we enter, like most libraries are, and I think there might not be anyone here. “Who minds the place when you’re not around?” I ask her curiously.

“My friend Lance,” she answers. I remember her saying she had a friend here. For some naïve reason, I wasn’t expecting it to be a man. She shrugs off her cardigan and hangs it on the back of her chair behind her desk. Her top is a short-sleeved white button-down that looks incredibly thin, like a napkin and stops under her chest. Her skirt was pulled high over her waist but showed exceptional skin and cleavage.

I clear my throat as I tear my eyes away from her body and gaze at the library around us. “Do you like reading?” I ask her.

“Is that a serious question?”

“Yes.”

“I’m a librarian. It’s kind of in the job description.”

“What’s your favorite book?”

Her cheeks flush, and I don’t understand why. “I don’t have one.”

I move closer to her, tilting my head as I look at her more intently now. “Are you shy about what you read?”

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