Chapter 2
Ethan
I’m sick of women throwing themselves at me day in and day out. It’s something I never thought I’d say and sixteen-year-old me would probably both kick me in the nuts and pass out from the shock of that statement.
My friends were all shocked when I decided to become a librarian, said that I was “too good looking for that shit.” But can’t a guy just want a job that offers some peace and quiet? Some serenity?
Yes, I’m attractive. I know it and there’s no sense in denying it when it’s true.
But I’ve never been one to flaunt it or use it to my advantage.
I didn’t do anything to look the way I do, it was just the way my genetics made me.
I’m fit because I enjoy the gym for the feel of my muscles burning from exertion. Something I don’t get in my job.
But seriously, is it a crime for a good looking guy to like reading? To enjoy literature and all that it encompasses?
Sometimes it feels like it based on the looks I get, the scoffs that women shoot my way on the very rare occasion I go to the bar with the guys.
I don’t need much to be happy. My moderate income is more than enough for my apartment.
All I really need is a good book and cup of coffee to be at peace.
Sure, it can be lonely, just me myself and I alone all the time.
There’s no one to come home to, no one to share how my day went.
And though I enjoy cooking, making meals for one gets old after a while.
Despite all that, I still can’t bring myself to do much in the way of trying to find a partner.
The bar scene isn’t for me, and definitely not the clubs either.
I always thought that working at the library would bring me the right person, someone who shares my interests since they’re at the library.
But unfortunately, it hasn’t quite panned out that way.
Of course, I’m missing out on a major opportunity because I’m too chicken shit to do much more than a few moderate exchanges with who I’m pretty sure is the girl of my dreams.
Biannca’s lowly muttered “ow” has my lips curling at the corners. She’s truly a mess in some ways. A fucking drop dead gorgeous, way out of my league, would be the best thing that ever happened to me mess.
I’m not sure if it’s an awareness of her surroundings—I have seen her walking through the library with her nose in a book instead of watching where she’s going—or some sort of spatial awareness but she’s constantly bumping into things.
At first, I was worried and would rush over every time she exclaimed discomfort thinking she was hurt.
But I quickly learned that it was more of an automatic response than actual pain.
Now, the several small utterances a day are incredibly endearing. To me at least. I’ve heard Ruby laughing at her a few times and while I know the two have a strong friendship, I always have to bite my tongue when she makes fun of her.
My crush is definitely one sided and from afar. Confidence normally comes easy to me, but for some reason Biannca makes me feel like a bumbling teenager seeing a girl for the first time since puberty hit. And just as awkward.
A damn fool. That’s what I am.
The ping of my phone draws my attention from the titles and numbers and locations on my screen.
My brow furrows as I pull it closer. I was expecting something from the group chat I have with my friends, or possibly Mom checking in…
again. Instead, it’s an update from the dating app I downloaded, created a profile for, and basically forgot about.
Not just any update, but someone liked my profile, wanting to see if I’m available for a date.
As I click open the app to check the details, I’m already thinking over whether or not I have it in me to do the whole “oh you’re a librarian? That doesn’t sound interesting.” Even though that information is on my fucking profile.
A breath bleeds through my lips and I push my chair away from the table, falling backward against the backrest.
It’s Biannca. The date request is from Biannca. I glance toward her to find her giggling with Ruby. Did she know it was me when she hit that button?
I don’t have my face in picture. It’s me, holding a book over my face. All you can see are my hands and the slightest bit of light brown hair above the top of the book. Ethan’s not the least common name, but it’s also not uncommon.
But did she read the profile? I feel like it would be impossible for her to not realize it’s me if she read the part about being a librarian. That wouldn’t only be too coincidental, but impossible unless her search expanded twenty five miles and included other libraries in the larger area.
Knowing the little I do about Biannca though, she’d be trying to slyly look at me to see if I received the notification and would be trying to read my expression. Which I immediately school.
I don’t want her to look over and see the shock and mistake it for a negative reaction. Because this could be the breakthrough I’ve been waiting for. The perfect way in for me.
Being the damn coward that I am, I’ve found it impossible to simply walk up to her and say hello.
To get to know her beyond the surface and coworker level.
And even that is minimal. I’m constantly afraid I’m going to stick my foot in my mouth, say something stupid.
And of course, there’s always the fear of rejection.
There’s a big difference in being rejected by someone you actually have an interest in compared to someone that just seems like a fun time.
Both girls stand but go opposite ways. Ruby goes off to do whatever IT stuff she does while Biannca makes a beeline for the door to the staff room. It’s the place that houses the coffee pot, so it’s her most frequented location aside from the library floor itself.
I stand to follow her, then think better of it and sit again. Only to stand again with the same intent to follow her. Frozen where I am at my desk, I give myself a mini mental peptalk and take off for the breakroom, snagging my coffee mug on the way.
She’s standing at the coffee pot, mumbling something to herself under her breath. I let the door close with a thud so as not to surprise her or have her think I’m eavesdropping on whatever conversation she appears to be having with herself.
“Hey, Bee.” While we don’t know each other well, when I first started here there was always this vibrant brunette tracking all across the library, often muttering things and the very frequent “ow” that reached my ears.
She was like a busy little bee and so I started calling her that.
It fit even better when I learned her name is Biannca.
Her spine straightens, shoulders pushing back and her chocolate curls spin in the air around her as she turns to face me. “Ethan.” My name comes out a choked breath and she clears her throat, a tight smile plastered to her face. “Hi.”
The smile softens a fraction and I try to read her.
Nothing seems terribly different from how she typically looks at me, the overwhelming nervousness she tends to have in my presence.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s just dislike, but Ruby has assured me the only person Biannca isn’t overly fond of in our workplace is Jemma.
Just the thought of her sends a shiver down my spine.
There are two women in the world that put fear in my heart.
My grandmother and Jemma.The former is from helping raise me and all the firm rules and consequent punishments for breaking them.
It only took once or twice to learn not to disobey her.
Even my friends were afraid to go against her word.
I think Jemma reminds me just a bit too much of my favorite old lady.
Yet scarier, because I’ve never seen a soft side.
I move into her immediate vicinity and the scent of jasmine and mint overwhelms my senses. A deep breath calms my nerves so I can actually communicate without being a fool. But that’s what Biannca reduces me to. An utter fool.
She cups her mug between two hands, her lips parted to blow lightly across the top, the steam swirling around her hazelnut eyes. I’m utterly starstruck, unable to move or blink or breathe. But when her lips turn up at the corners and she starts to move away I speak on impulse.
“You hear about the gala yet? Sounds pretty fancy.” Despite the tremble in my fingers I reach for the coffee pot, if only to give myself something to do other than stand here like an idiot.
“I did, in fact. Jemma was kind enough to share that information with me not long ago.” There’s a slight bite to her tone as she says Jemma’s name and I pull my lips between my teeth to hold back a smirk.
“Sounds like it could be fun.” I don’t make eye contact as I slowly pour coffee into my mug.
“Seems a little…I don’t know. Pretentious? Black tie?”
Turning to face her, I lean back against the counter behind me, crossing my ankles. “I can see how it might seem that way. But we’re in a semi affluent area and I think trying to show our worth and how we value ourselves might impress the community.”
“I guess. I know the whole idea behind it is to keep the doors open, to keep new books coming in, keep overdue charges low and especially keep doing all the great activities we do here. But it just feels…I don’t know how to explain it.
” She waves her hand as if flicking away the idea.
“Maybe it’s more about the whole having to bring a plus one thing.
” Her finger swirls around the lip of her mug and my spine straightens.
When her eyes lift to mine, I nearly melt. “You bringing anyone?” There’s true curiosity in her tone, mixed with something I can’t quite decipher. But nothing that points to the fact that she knows she matched with me on the app.
Lifting a shoulder, I try to play it cool but probably fail miserably. “Guess I have to, right? Didn’t exactly seem like a suggestion so much as a mandate.”
“That’s probably what’s bugging me. Why do we have to bring a date?
Not all of us are happily married or blissfully attached to someone.
Some of us are just…flying solo. For some reason it feels like being shamed for being single.
” There’s an underlying sense of sadness in her words.
Like this isn’t the first time she’s felt this way or had to defend her singleness.
“I think it’s more about showing a large presence. No one will really know who’s with whom but at the same time anyone who might donate will see a great turnout and support, even from staff and their significant others. Even if those may only be for the evening.”
She looks up to the ceiling, tipping her head from side to side as though considering. “I guess that could be the case. Anyway, it was good talking to you, Ethan. I should get back out there.”
With a light smile she walks past me and out into the library. All the little breadcrumbs I’d left for her to pick up and piece together were ignored. Or, maybe not ignored, but not pieced together. Was it intentional? Could Biannca really have no clue that it’s me behind that app profile?
As soon as I get back to my desk, I pull up the app again. Mostly to see if she decided to cancel the date request. It’s then I notice my error. For a bigger sense of anonymity, I had made my profile under E.J. not Ethan.
E.J. for Ethan James. I’m not sure anyone here knows my middle name, nor that I had gone by the moniker for the first fifteen years of my life. In all my excitement of seeing Biannca’s profile requesting a date, I’d forgotten that incredibly small, yet extremely gigantic detail.
A heavy sigh heaves from my chest and I’m about to click my phone off when a notification pops up.
Biannca: Hello. Um, I’m not entirely sure how to go about this, I’ve never done something like this before. But I am wondering if you’re free to be my date for a work event?