Page 13 of Beautiful Beast

Belle

TheNewYorkCityLibrary is one of my favorite places on earth. It’s plucked out of a movie with the stone walls, huge entryway pillars, and eye-catching sculptures. It’s like an Ivy League school right in the middle of the city.

I’m still in a state of perpetual disbelief that I actually get to work here as a real librarian. Even on my days off, I often make a trip just to immerse myself in the world of books. The inside is warm and inviting in contrast to the imposing exterior.

The rich mahogany shelves are filled to the brim with books that I love organizing. Whenever we get a new shipment, I always volunteer to catalog them so I get first dibs on reading material, which I devour at warp speed.

My childhood was a disaster, and books were my only escape. Even though my grandmother was clearly loaded, my parents weren’t. My mom cut my grandmother off when she met my dad, a total dirt bag piece of shit who I wish wasn’t breathing.

Despite my parents trying to hold me back, I earned enough scholarships to get higher education and went for a Master’s degree in library science.

I’ll be damned if the cycle of poverty and abuse doesn’t stop with me.

“Good morning, Belle.”

The head librarian is a kindly older woman who gives off serious grandmother vibes. But she’s sharp as a tack and gave me a chance to be the assistant director of children’s programming right out of school. I did my placement here and proved that I was a good fit who could add value to the team.

“Morning, Vi!” I reply. “I have kids coming in for a story and craft circle in an hour, so I have to go and set up. I’ll swing by and chat at lunch.”

She smiles and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, which she does at least a million times a day. “Sounds good, dear.”

On my way to the back of the library where the children’s section is, I pass the self-help books. It’s too bad there isn’t a book on “How to Not be an Asshole in 10 Days” because Adam could really benefit from it.

Not that he’d read it.

But I love researching everything from climate change to skincare, and finding the perfect books for people brings me joy.

I’ll crack Adam, too.

He’s still stuck in my mind. As much as he tries to put forth a very harsh and abrasive mask, I can’t help but think there are a lot more layers to him.

His rare laughter is infectious, and I’ve already heard it a couple of times despite him insisting that I’m not a welcome visitor. I’ve also learned he was friends with my grandmother, and what hot, young guy makes friends with an old lady?

Even though he’s a decade older than me, he’s still young. It’s not like he’s ninety. And besides, I didn’t propose marriage. I just want to have a friend in the building.

Adam’s abs pop into my head, and I picture the tattoos on his perfectly bronzed skin. It’s easy to conjure the image up because if I looked at the pictures Ariel sent me once, I must have looked a thousand times.

Friends.

Yup.

That’s exactly what I’m after.

As I dash through the aisles, even the best smell in the world – books, of course – can’t distract me from thoughts of Adam.

He continuously spikes my curiosity because I’ve never met someone who tries so hard to be so openly hostile for no apparent reason. Complex people are my favorite to be around because there’s a lot more to me than meets the eye, too.

And I love surprisingly unsuspecting people with intelligence and wit when they’re expecting an airhead.

My whole childhood, I grew up being told that I was beautiful and nothing more. But I was determined to “make it” with my brain, not my boobs.

And now I’m a bonafide adult with my dream job and, apparently, a penthouse in New York City’s most exclusive building.

Suck on those eggs, Mom.

I spend the morning reading carefully selected children’s books to my story circle: the ABCs of Kindness, The Color Monster, The Most Magnificent Thing, The More We Are Together, and The Rabbit Listened.

And then we do a craft that involves gluing tiny pieces of macaroni on heart-shaped construction paper to help tune their fine motor skills.

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