Page 3 of The Lessons

It’d only been two days since I’d moved from New York to San Francisco, but in that short time, I’d already powered through the majority of my long, post-move to-do list.

Cable and wi-fi installation

Washer/dryer delivery

Change of address filed with the post office

In case you couldn’t tell, I’m a list maker. And for too long I’d been making lists for others, prioritizing everything except myself. This move was designed to change that.

Up next on my list? Library card. I straightened my glasses and smoothed my hair as I marched up the steps and into the San Francisco Public Library. As I passed over the marble floors, I craned my neck to take in the lobby. This building wasspectacular. The circular atrium stretched at least seven stories high and was flanked on all sides by floor upon floor of books. Glorious books. And that smell. Oh, God, that smell.

#heaven

Eventually, after a sufficient amount of gawking, I gathered my wits and made my way to the service counter. I laid my ID and a copy of my apartment’s rental agreement down and grinned at the clerk.

“I’d like to sign up for a library card, please.”

A thin, young man regarded me from behind his horn-rimmed glasses.

“You’ll need to fill out this application,” he said blankly, without blinking, clearly not as excited as I was.

I cracked a stupid joke to lighten the mood but was only met with an annoyed look. However, I would not be deterred. I stepped to the side to complete the application, and in less than five minutes, I was a card-carrying member of SFPL. Besides my rental agreement, it was the only evidence I had that I belonged in this city.

Most of my worldly possessions, including all my books, were stuck in a shipping container somewhere in the Midwest, so I headed to the stacks to find something to read. I located the mystery section and spent a good amount of time contentedly perusing the shelves, slowly collecting a formidable stack in my arms. It was probably more than I’d be able to read before the due date, but whatever— I didn’t know anyone here, so I had some evenings to kill. I bent down to review the lowest shelf; one of my favorite authors had a new book out, and I was hoping to find a copy.

“Excuse me, Miss? Could you tell me where I’d findAttic Ruinsby Ethan Calloway?” a male voice requested.

I ignored it, figuring the question wasn’t directed at me. But it persisted.

“Miss?”

I closed my eyes.Seriously?I glanced down at my dark jeans and cardigan. I thought my outfit was cute, but apparently I looked like a librarian. I sighed inwardly as I stood, resolving to go shopping as soon as possible. “Look, I’m sorry, but—”

Holy Moses.In one instant my eyes collided with deep blue pools, and I

Dropped.

All.

My.

Books.

All of them. Right onto his feet.

“Fuck—sorry,” I muttered, embarrassed, as I bent down to gather the pile.

He kneeled, beating me to the ground. “Here, let me get that.” He began gathering the titles. “So, do they normally let you handle the books around here, or is this a first-time kind of thing?” He eyed me, amused.

I went mute as I took him in. He was attractive, really ridiculously attractive—all golden skin and silky dark hair. Handsome in a way that just oozed masculinity and sex appeal.

He stacked my bundle of books in one hand and pulled me to my feet with his other. His grip was strong, his hand dwarfing mine.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you, but I had a question.”

A question? I swallowed. Whatever he wanted to know, I was pretty sure my answer would be yes. And I was pretty sure his eyes flicked down to my chest for an instant. My breath hitched, and I was suddenly acutely aware of my sweater and how it tugged against the curves of my body.

“Do you have the newest Calloway novel?”

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