Page 18 of How to Write a Rom-Com

My head snaps up when the woman behind the counter speaks in a rough, loud voice. Suddenly, all eyes in the room are on me. Cool.

I clear my throat and race to get my story straight. I can do this. Calm. Confident. Be one with the locals.

“Hi,” I say quietly, leaning against the desk. I’m hoping if I keep a quiet tone, the rest of the people will go back to their books. I take a quick glance at my surroundings and realize that is not going to happen. There’s an older man sitting at a nearby table staring directly at me. A mother and her son are in the children’s section at the far side of the room, using their position in the raised platform to lean over a banister to get a better look at me, and a few kids are giggling in the computer section behind me. Not exactly the warm welcome I’ve received from everyone else in this town.

“I’m visiting for a few weeks,” I say in a more confident whisper. The woman behind the counter finally looks up from her desk. She’s on the older side, with short, thinning hair, and a cardigan that looks like it was handmade. Her glasses are on the edge of her nose and she looks up at me from behind them, like I’m inconveniencing her in a major way.

“Are you looking for abook?”

Well, this is a library.

I inhale subtly and put on my best fake smile. “I was actually looking for some information on the town’s history. Would you be able to point me in the right direction? Some archives, perhaps?” In my mind, this was the part where she gets excited that an out-of-towner has shown some interest in this historic town and she offers to tell me all about its Native American history.

That’s not what happens. Instead, she shrugs her shoulders and huffs at me.

This library experience is really not going as expected.

“We don’t have much. Anything we do have would be down that aisle over there,” she says, pointing behind me.

“Oh,” I say, disappointed.

Where is the old, crotchety historian who will become my mentor while I go on my journey to self-discovery?

Anne isnotgoing to be happy about this.

“Hey, Beth.” My head snaps up at the sound of a familiar voice. I find him like a magnet. Liam is in his usual jeans and T-shirt look as he strides up to the welcome desk. He gives me a quick look in his peripheral vision, and then strides right past me toward the librarian. “Here’s your sandwich,” he tells Beth, placing a white paper bag on her desk.

Beth gets a sandwich. I don’t even get a “hello,” but Beth gets a sandwich.

“I am capable of walking across the street, you know,” Beth replies sassily.

“A simple thank you will do,” Liam answers, leaning against the desk. “Not everyone gets my special door-to-door service, you know.”

Charm. Beth gets a sandwichandcharm. What the fuck?

“Thank you, Liam,” Beth says.

Liam seems to finally notice my presence—either that or he was pretending not to notice me this entire time—I’m not really sure which. He turns slightly so our forearms gently graze one another and I see goosebumps rise on his skin. I look up and he barely meets my gaze.

“Hey, neighbor,” I say in a weak voice. I pair it with an awkward wave. “Although I’m not sure I can call you that when I’ll only be your neighbor for a month.”

Liam gives me a firm smile, and looks down at the floor quickly, before finally accepting that he has to make eye contact with me eventually. Once he does, his eyes take hold of mine and I can see there are more words in his mind that don’t make their way out. Beth rolls her eyes at us. In an instant, Liam’s attitude seems to change. His shoulders lift, almost visibly shaking off the façade he was just wearing.

“Sorry, can I ask you something?” I say, fully aware that I am, in fact, asking him something.

“Go ahead,” he mumbles.

“Do I…botheryou? Or make you uncomfortable? Because if I do, I really apologize, but I’m not really sure what it is that I’m doing—” We start meandering down an aisle of books, heading toward the door.

Liam uprights himself. “Stop. It’s not you, it’s me,” he says. “Look, I—I don’t take to newcomers very well, we’re a close-knit community, you understand? It’s basically ingrained in my DNA to be wary of people from the city.”

“Wait. Let me get this straight. You don’t like me because I live in the city? Not because I acted slightly manic when we first met—which I have apologized for.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Liam starts, hurriedly pushing some rogue blonde locks out of his face. “The last time someone came to Hudson Hollow from Manhattan, with their posh outfits and fancy cars and fast talking, they came to build a resort on the lake, looking to demolish hundreds of homes in the process.”

I open my mouth to speak but take a beat.

“There’s so much to unpack there I’m really not sure where to start,” I finally say. “Do I look like a property developer to you?” Suddenly, Beth appears from behind one of the large columns and shushes us. Like she literally puts her finger to her lips and goesShhh!—I’ve never seen a real-life librarian actually do that.

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