Page 3 of Begin Again
“Hi!” She gives him her biggest grin. Emily is pretty, like insanely pretty. She’s got long wavy auburn hair and stunning brown eyes. She’s also got a smile that could make any person fall in love with her, I’m sure of it. And because we live in a small town of farmers, she’s always stood out. I mean, I stand out too, with my fiery red hair and all, but not like she does.
“Hey,” the guy says, shoving his hands deep into the front pockets of his pants. His arms are tan, like he’s spent most of the summer in the sun. I wonder where he’s from.
“I'm Emily, and this is Annie,” she says, gesturing between the two of us and somehow quenches my desire to actually know more about him. She can do all the talking. They’ll be dating by the end of the first week of school. Whereas I can’t seem to form a normal sentence around a boy I think is cute up to this point in my life so I offer him another small wave and hope he leaves our table soon.
“I’m Sam. Could either of you tell me where to go to get a library card?”
I see Emily’s shoulders droop. He likes books, so not her go-to man. She likes the jocks who like to tell her she’s pretty. She had her first real kiss last year, something that I’ve only read about in books and I am more than okay with that.
“I’ve got to run,” she tells Sam. “But Annie loves the library, so I’m sure she can help you.”
I blink in surprise and try to get her attention without being obvious about it. I can’t be left with this guy on my own, but she refuses to look at me, as if she knows I’ll try to stop whatever her plan is. I snap my fingers in her direction, but they both ignore me while she grins up at him.
Emily holds up her huge copy ofHuckleberry Finn. “I’ve got to read this before school next week, and it’s going to take all of my time.” Then she finally looks at me. “Text me later?”
“Okay,” I say as I try not to glare at her, but I want to.
Emily grabs her bag and heads out the door to head home and I’m alone with Sam. “The main desk is just down the hall,” I say pointing. “They should be able to get you a library card.”
He nods and looks down at the table whereEmmais lying and I squirm in my seat the longer he stares.
He finally breaks the silence. “Is that one any good?”
“It’s my favorite,” I say.
He nods like this is what he expected me to say. Though, most girls our age are very intoTwilightright now, so I’m pretty sure a classic being my favorite isn’t at all what he expected.
“I’ll have to read it sometime.” He gives me a smile, one that makes the edges of his eyes crinkle.
My heart does a funny little flip. “Let me know if you need to borrow a copy.” I blurt before I remember that we are in a library, where he could get his own copy. “I mean, if you want. I’ve got another copy.” More like five, but he doesn’t need to know that. Most people already think I’m the weirdo who likes classic books.
My whole body feels warm. This is why I don’t talk to boys. I get all hot and sweaty and blurt out stupid things.
His smile only grows as if he hasn’t even noticed my embarrassment, and with that look it feels like a ray of sunshine straight to my chest. I look down at my hands again. Is this what Mom and Emily feel when guys smile at them? Is that why they keep choosing to date guys who are losers because of how their smiles send a physical jolt into their bodies?
“I’d like that. I'm new to town, so it’d be nice to have a friend,” he says, his voice soft and quiet.
I didn’t know it was possible, but I feel myself grow even warmer and I know that my skin is bright red. I can’t look at him, not with this reaction.
“Where did you move from?” I mumble without looking up.
“Texas, but before that it was New York, upstate, and Washington before that.”
“Wow.” I’m startled by his history. “I’ve never even left Colorado.”
He looks at me like he’s about to let me in on some sort of secret. “Guess you’ll have to change that sometime.” He glances down the hall toward the reception desk. “I'd better get my library card, but I’ll see you around?”
“Sure,” I say, but I don’t mean it. I’m not like Emily. I don’t flirt with guys or get their numbers to hang out with them. I spend most of my time either at home or at the library or at school.
“Good,” he says as if that settles the matter. As if we’re already friends. “See you.”
I offer another small wave—one of the only things I seem to be capable of today—as he walks away. His butt looks good in his jeans. I scramble up out of my seat at the thought, grabbing my copy ofEmmaand stuffing it into my bag. I can’t look at his butt, that’s weird, right?
Emily would have no trouble staring at him as he walked away, but I'm not her. Boys don’t notice me and I don’t want them to. But when I glance up at Sam again, he’s looking at me while he waits for the librarian to finish talking on the phone.
This time, he’s the one who waves. Butterflies swirl in my stomach as I leave in a rush.
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