Lizzie
Chapter Seven
“Oh. My. God. Tell me again. Describe every detail, no matter how minor you think it is,” Sylvia demands.
My best friend leans forward with her elbows on the cafe tabletop and her head resting in her hands, giving me her undivided attention. Sylvia is so enthralled that I wouldn’t be surprised if cartoon hearts started floating above her.
We’re at a table near the counter, and Anita is busy washing dishes less than ten feet away. Her graceful laughter makes me smile, and Sylvia glances in her direction.
“Are you hearing this, Anita? This library boy is swoony as fu—” Sylvia stops herself before her F-bomb escapes her. “I mean, he’s super romantic.”
“I hear it, honey.” A wistful smile forms at her mouth as she dries a coffee mug and hangs it on its hook, then returns to the counter and leans against it. “He sounds a lot like my Jefferson was. Not many men are that thoughtful.”
“Right? I mean, Tyler has never set me up a picnic in the library—”
“Whoa, Sylvs. You’re my best friend, and I’ll always take your side… almost always. But Tyler worships the ground you walk on, and you know it.”
She gives me a cheeky grin because she knows I’m right.
“Plus, you’d have to actually go into a library once in a while for him to set up a picnic there for you,” Anita chimes in.
Sylvia gasps, and I crack up.
“Great burn, Anita. Spot on,” I say.
“Well, I never.” I chuckle at Sylvia’s attempt at feigned indignation.
“Right. That’s what I said. You ‘never’ go to the library,” Anita adds.
I’m losing it so hard now that tears roll down my face. Who knew Anita had it in her? What’s even funnier is watching Sylvia try her damnedest not to smile. Her pinched mouth doesn’t speak of anger but of someone working hard to prevent herself from cackling.
I stretch across the table and poke Sylvia in the side.
A roar of laughter escapes her; I’ve unleashed the beast. Over the next few minutes, the three of us remain in the throes of side-splitting howling.
It’s the kind of laughter that, when one of you stops, all it takes is a look at the others to lose control again.
When we finally calm, I lean back in my chair and release a satisfied sigh.
“Wow. I didn’t realize how badly I needed that,” I tell them.
“Me, too. And I didn’t realize how witty our dear Anita is,” Sylvia says. She grins toward Anita.
“Eh, what can I say? I like to think I still have some spunkiness in these old bones.”
The bell on the door tinkles, and we all spare a quick glance toward the entrance. A cute couple walks in holding hands, and I watch them for several seconds until Anita speaks again.
“But in all seriousness, Sylvia, you know you don’t need to go to the library to do your best work. All your brand of genius requires is somewhere beautiful to sit and your sketchpad.” Anita smiles at Sylvia before she walks away to attend to the new customers.
“Hey, the library is beautiful,” I call after her. She glances over her shoulder at me, grins, and continues walking. Sylvia takes the opportunity my momentary distraction provides to return the poke I gave her earlier.
“Yeah, it is when you’ve got a hot boy—”
“He’s not my boyfriend!” I whisper yell.
“Uh, I was gonna say boy toy. Not boyfriend. But shows where your mind is.” Her smirk says ‘gotcha.’
“Whatever.” I roll my eyes. “He’s neither my boyfriend nor my boy toy. He’s my friend.”
“But he could be more…”
I feel my cheeks heat at the thought but then force it away. It’s not possible.
“No. It’s not like that—” I pause and scratch at my fingernail. “It can’t be even if I wanted it to,” I whisper.
Sylvia grabs my hands. She knows I do the nail thing when I’m stressed. Normally, she nudges my hands apart, then goes back to whatever she was doing. This time, though, she squeezes and doesn’t let go.
“Lizzie, this has to stop. You’re twenty-two, and you’re making major life decisions based on how you think numbnuts might react. He’s the one who isn’t and won’t ever be your boyfriend—or boy toy—again. He doesn’t get to decide anything about your life.”
“It’s not that easy, Sylvs.”
“Yeah, it is. Just tell him to eat shit and leave you alone.” To say my best friend is passionate about things is putting it mildly. And when it comes to people she loves, she’s fiercely protective.
“Can we please talk about something else? I don’t have it in me to keep talking about Landon. And before you say it, I’m not in denial. I’m… exhausted. I just have to get through a few more months until he graduates, and then in my last semester of school, I’ll be able to breathe easier.”
Sylvia frowns, then opens her mouth to speak, but closes it again just as quickly. To hold back on speaking her mind is no simple task for her; I know that. So, her doing it for me means a lot.
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“You know you’re the only person in the world who can make me mind my tongue, right?” She teases lightly, and I chuckle, grateful for the reprieve.
“Oh, I know it. Believe me.” I lift my coffee mug to my lips and swallow down my last swig just as the alarm on my phone goes off. “Ah, and duty calls. I’ve got to head to work.”
I rise and take my mug to the counter, then return to the table for my bag. Sylvia stands once I’m ready to go, and she pulls me into a tight hug.
“I love you, Lizzie. You’re the sister I never had, and I want only spectacular things for you. Sometimes, maybe, that gets me a little feisty, but it comes from a place of love. Okay?”
“I know. I love you, too. I promise, I’ll be okay.” I pull back from the hug. “Are we still on for breakfast tomorrow?”
“Absolutely, we are. I’ll see you then. Don’t forget to wear pants with a stretchy waistband this time. You need to keep up with me, or I look like a glutton.”
I shake my head and laugh as I walk away from her. Sylvia is maybe 110 pounds, soaking wet. If you don’t know her, you’d be shocked at how much food she can pack away into that tiny body. I chuckle thinking about it as I walk to my car.
Ten minutes later, Hank and I pull into my usual parking spot. I’ve got about one minute to get inside before I’m officially late. I’m a bundle of nerves because I have never cut it this close. If I’m not ten minutes early, I’m late.
As I rush inside to the circulation desk, the librarian has her bag out, ready to leave. She directs me to the pile of the newest romance books that arrived today, and because she knows I love the genre, tells me she saved them for me to display.
“Thanks, Marcy. I appreciate it.” I wave goodbye to her, and she’s only taken a few steps when she stops and turns back to me.
“I forgot to tell you. That small lavender box over there is for you. It appeared here while I was away from the desk, but it has your name on it.”
My gaze follows to where she’s pointing, and I see the box she’s talking about. It’s about four inches square. My heart speeds up.
When I retrieve the box, I open the small card on top first. It’s a simple pale lilac card with a stack of books embossed off to the side.
It’s one of the prettiest cards I think I’ve ever seen.
I wish I could find something like this for the notes I write.
My hands tremble as I run a finger over the books on the front.
Okay, here goes, I guess. I flip it open.
Dear Lizette,
I’m so happy that I met you and that we’ve become friends. I’m not sure what I did with myself before I crashed into that book display all those weeks ago. Our time in the stacks is the highlight of my day. Thank you for making life infinitely sweeter.
Love,
Holden
I glance toward where Holden usually sits every evening and find him watching me. His guarded smile makes me wonder what’s on his mind, what he’s worried about. I smile back at him, and his shoulders visibly relax, then he points toward the package.
When I return my focus to the box, I notice my hands aren’t shaking anymore, not now that I know it’s from him.
I lift the lid off, and I’m surprised to see the entire box is filled with purple Skittles.
I stare down into the sea of sugary goodness, and my breathing picks up a little.
How many bags of skittles does someone have to go through to pick out this many purple?
And how does he know they’re my favorite?
Because he pays attention to you.
I’m just a side character in the story most of the time.
Ah, there goes my inner voice butting in again.
But I have to admit that I think it’s a true statement.
The thought chokes me up. Besides Sylvia, no one really knows little things like this about me.
Landon is too self-centered, and my mom is too much of a mess half the time to notice Lindsay and me.
Lindsay is just as busy helping keep mom on track.
I don’t realize I’m crying until a plop of moisture, then another, lands on top of my hand.
I turn my head to the side, and as discreetly as possible, wipe my tears on my shirt sleeve.
When I feel like I’ve got it together enough, I take a deep breath, force a smile, and then turn my body towards the front of the desk.
Holden is making his way toward me, less than twenty feet away right now.
His mouth turns down just a bit at the corners.
I make myself smile bigger and silently berate myself for showing the level of emotion that I did over something as simple as a box of candies.
But deep inside, I know it’s more than the candy.
It’s what the candy, the thoughtful act, means.
When he reaches the circulation desk, Holden extends his arm across the desk and almost touches my hands before I pull them away and slide them into my pockets. His frown deepens, and he hesitates, but then pulls his hands back.
“Hey, are you okay?” Worry laces his words, and I feel bad that I’m the cause of it.
I know he can probably see right through me, but I nod.
“Are you sure? It looked like you were crying from where I sat.”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I just had something in my eye.” I hate lying to him, even though I suspect we both know the truth. “Thank you for this. It’s really sweet. I guess it’s obvious I have a sweet tooth, huh?”
His eyes don’t divert, even for a second, from their intense stare at my face. It’s as if he’s searching for some reassurance that things are fine.
“It is to me,” he practically whispers. “You’re easy to know, Lizette. All someone has to do is make an effort to see you. And if they don’t, then they’re the ones who are missing out.”
I’m stunned, silent, wondering where he came from. It has certainly not been my experience that this is how men are. To be fair, I mostly have my dad, Landon, and Landon’s dad as examples. Tyler is thoughtful and attentive to Sylvia, but I think Holden might even give him a run for his money.
“Thank you,” I whisper. “This is very sweet of you. I promise I’m okay. I love that you did this. Now, go sit down and study before I have to kick you out of the library for fraternizing.”
I grin at him, and after, his eyes scan my face once more. He must feel assured that I’m all right because he smiles back at me with one of those smiles that makes me weak in my knees.
After Holden returns to a seat, I keep myself busy for the next two hours with my assigned tasks. I finished them early, as usual, and I have about an hour left of my shift.
When the hour finally passes, and everyone except Holden and me is out of the library with the doors locked, I grab his hand, which is uncharacteristic for me, and guide him over to the new display that I put up tonight.
“I want your opinion since you did such a great job last time,” I tease.
His eyes move around, taking in the new books on the display.
“These are all new, huh?”
“Yeah. How did you know that?” He must’ve seen them delivered before I got here.
He shrugs, and his cheeks turn pink. He shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. When I don’t give him an out, I guess he realizes I’m waiting for an answer.
“Remember, I have the photographic memory thing,” he offers.
“I know. I remember.”
“Well, I paid attention to what books were on the shelf in the genre because I know you love to read it, and so I know these weren’t there before.”
I can’t take my eyes off him yet. I still say nothing. I’m slightly amused that my silence seems to make him more nervous, but I’m not sure what that’s about. He points to one of the books.
“I’ve seen you reading some enemies-to-lovers. If that’s one of your favorite tropes, this one is really good and no cliff—”
His eyes widen as it must dawn on him what he just said.
“Holden, do you read romance? Not that there’s anything wrong with it. I’m just curious.”
He tosses his head back and groans.
“Ugh. I need to sit down for this discussion. Can we go to our spot?”
“Sure, lead the way.”
When we’re at our usual area, we sit on the ground, this time with the wall at our backs and him with his legs stretched out, while I’m cross-legged next to him. My knee touches his thigh, but I like the contact, so I don’t make any effort to move it.
“Okay. I don’t know if this will make it seem weird or better, but I buddy-read romance novels with my younger brother’s best friend, Georgie.”