Page 3 of Years in the Making

He looks taken aback. “I don’t mean to be rude, but you need a degree to be a librarian?”

“What is it that you think librarians do?” I ask with a slight tilt of my head.

“Tell people to be quiet and stamp books.”

“Yes, well, thereisa proper way to shush people,” I say with a straight face. “I need two credits in Shushing to get my degree. It’s basically a language course in Library Science.”

He leans back and crosses one ankle over his knee. “I don’t fully believe you, but I also had no idea that librarians needed a degree so I’m not confident in my assumption.”

“Stick with your gut. It’s not a course. The goal is to be an information professional.”

“Like a professional know-it-all?” He offers a crooked grin, and if I had been standing, I’m pretty sure my legs would have given out.

“Well, that sounds like someone who would be the most unpopular person in the room.”

“Sorry, I don’t mean it negatively,” he amends. “I’m just trying to understand what it is you study then. Like, do you justlearn everything? Is it something you need additional schooling for?”

“A master’s is pretty much necessary. But I’ll have loads of job opportunities. It’s not just libraries, it’s working for corporations, media, law…” I could go on, really delve into my courses and career opportunities, but I don’t want to talk about me anymore. “What about you? What kept your schedule too busy for Elvish?”

“Environmental Science.” He blushes when he says it. He’s hot, chivalrous, and is interested in the natural world? Be still my nerdy heart.

“Ah, so you can be a professional environment know-it-all?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know, it was just a major that appealed to me, and having a degree can’t hurt, right?”

“So you’re not passionate about it?”

“I mean, I am, in a way. I like nature, being outdoors, and knowing things about being outdoors. I just don’t really know what I’m going to do with the degree. Probably something with trees. I like being in the forest. Ask me in a couple of months.”

“Shall we meet on the train to discuss in two months?”

“I was thinking maybe you’d give me your number… or I could give you mine.”

This catches me off guard, and the lie slips out before I can stop it. “I’m not sure my boyfriend would like that.”

He blanches. “Shit, sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed. I mean, look at you.” He says it so softly I’m not even sure I hear him correctly.

“It’s fine. I’m flattered. Do you regret saving me a seat now?”

“Nope.” He shakes his head without breaking eye contact. “I had no ulterior motive before we started talking.”

“What stop is yours?”

“Wellington. You?” So close, only a twenty-minute drive from me.

“Stewardsville.”

“You from there?”

“No…” I debate lying about where I’m from, but decide he doesn’t seem like the type of guy who’s going to track me down. Not that that kind of guy is going to be wearing some kind of identifier. “Comrie.”

“Ugh, so you’ve gotta take the bus the rest of the way home?”

“Thankfully no. My parents are meeting me in Stewardsville. My dad would drive to the ends of the earth as long as he didn’t have to go through Toronto. So I get as far from the city as I can via train. That way he avoids the city and I avoid a bus. It’s a win-win.”

“Solid arrangement. Did you go to Centennial?”

“I did. Did you go to Wellington High?”

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