the living room, the house quiet. I had a short four-hour shift at the store earlier today, and it was now lunchtime. I had the entire afternoon to myself, and night. Partying wasn’t really my scene, not with the crazy hours I worked sometimes.
I sat up when I read her text, my fingers hovering over the keyboard as I thought about what to say back. I decided on, Hey. I’m free all afternoon. Want to meet up somewhere and talk about it? I thought she might think that was overdoing it, so at the end of the message I added, The library at SCC?
Yeah, that was good. That way she wouldn’t think I was trying to sneak into her house or something. Bree reminded me of a lost, abused animal. The kind you saw on those videos on Facebook. Lost, scared, but capable of going through a transformation with enough patience and love. I wanted to be the one to bring her out of her shell, to see her smile and hear her laugh.
Hmm. Maybe that was a weird analogy. Maybe I should’ve gone for a different one.
I hit send, biting my nail as I waited for her to respond. What if she was one of those girls who waited hours to text back so they didn’t look like they were purposefully waiting for your response?
No, I didn’t think Bree was like that. I didn’t know her well, but she didn’t seem like the kind of girl who played those games. She didn’t seem like she played any games, actually. Closed-off, withdrawn, the very opposite of those kinds of girls.
I wanted to get to know her. I wanted to spend more time with her. She’d taken up my mind more often than not since I’d sat next to her on the day I was late to class.
Never thought I’d be grateful for being late, but here we were. Here I was, rather.
My phone buzzed, and I quickly read her message.
Sure. Meet at two?
I replied, You bet. It’s a date. My stupid thumb sent the message before I could take it back, so I quickly whipped up another message and sent it immediately: Not a date date. Just a date. A date at the library. You know what I mean. After I sent that rambling message, I ran a hand down my face, hoping she didn’t think I was some weirdo.
I mean, I was a little weird I guess, but I didn’t want her thinking it.
She did not respond to either message of mine, which made me worry a bit. What if I’d messed everything up? What if she decided against meeting me at the library? Shit. No. I wouldn’t think like that.
I got ready, showered and finally changed out of my work uniform. Might’ve put on some body spray, just to make sure I smelled good. I was pretty sure I heard that girls were drawn to certain smells, and therefore more likely to find those men attractive.
Did I want Bree to find me attractive?
Duh. Obviously. There was something about her I instantly liked, so yeah, I wanted her to be drawn to me like a moth to a flame—except when the moth (read: she) reached the flame (as in, me), she would not be burned. I’d never hurt her, and I wanted her to know that.
I left the house at one-fifteen, which gave me more than enough time to drive to campus, find a parking spot near the library, and meander around the library’s lobby, wondering why the hell I felt so anxious about this meeting.
We were just meeting to discuss our class project. This wasn’t a real date. Like, come on, Mason. Man up.
It was a quarter till two when a soft voice spoke behind me, nearly making me leap out of my skin, “You’re here early.”
I spun, turning to view Bree, who’d just walked in through the doors, a cool gust of wind following behind her. Today she wore no beanie, her pink hair a bit kinky and wavier than I remembered it being. Her green eyes were on me, though when I met her stare, she quickly looked to the floor. She wore leggings, along with a super long sweater that covered the small curve of her ass.
Not that I, uh, looked.
Much.
“So are you?” I didn’t know why, but it came out like a question, and if I could’ve smacked myself for sounding so stupid, I would’ve. What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like Bree