“Here you go. I set up your profile for you.”
A puff of air is all that I can force out. Taking the phone back, I glance over what she set up. Relatively basic but very accurate information. “Where’d you get this picture?”
She lifts her shoulder while crossing her arms and leaning back against her desk. “It was in your gallery.”
While I want to be angry or feel like my privacy has been invaded by her going through my gallery, she did save me a shit load of time and effort. Not to mention, prevented me from actually chickening out from the whole thing.
“National Read a Book Day?” My eyes raise to look at her through my lashes. “Is that a thing?”
“It is. And the same weekend as the gala so I figured why the hell not right? The app isn’t specific about the type of holiday you need a date for so…”
With a heavy sigh, I start sliding through the app. “Here goes nothing.”
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 justthe way my genetics made me. I’m fit because I enjoy the gym for the feel of my muscles burning from exertion. Something Idon’tget 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’reat 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 exclaimeddiscomfort 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 ison 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.
