Mac: Good night. Dream about me?
Rachel:You wish.
Mac:I really do.
Rachel:...okay maybe I will.
Mac fell asleep with that message glowing on his phone screen, already planning their next date.
A date where he definitely, absolutely, would not attempt to cook.
11
Rachel
Rachel was reshelving returns in the biography section when the library's front door chimed.
She didn't look up immediately. Tuesdays at noon were usually quiet, just Mrs. Henderson browsing the new releases and maybe a college student or two looking for study materials.
But then she heard his voice.
"Hi, Mrs. Henderson. Is Rachel around?"
Rachel's heart did that stupid fluttering thing it had been doing every time she heard Mac's voice for the past month.
"She's in biography, dear," Mrs. Henderson said, and Rachel could hear the smile in her voice. "Second aisle. I'm sure she'll be delighted to see you."
Rachel quickly tried to smooth her hair, then immediately felt ridiculous. It was Mac. He'd seen her in yoga pants with her hair in a messy bun and morning breath. They were dating. Officially. She shouldn't be nervous.
She was absolutely nervous.
Mac appeared at the end of the aisle carrying a brown paper bag from Sophie's Café, wearing jeans and his Eagles hoodie, hissandy hair slightly messy from the wind outside. He grinned when he saw her.
"Hi."
"Hi." Rachel set down the books she'd been holding, suddenly very aware of how boring her librarian cardigan and sensible work pants were. "What are you doing here? Don't you have practice?"
"Finished early. Coach Davies is at some conference." Mac held up the bag. "I brought lunch. Sophie said you usually skip eating because you get too busy with work, so I figured I'd make sure you actually eat today."
Rachel's chest tightened with something warm. "You brought me lunch?"
"Sandwiches. Turkey and swiss for you, Italian sub for me. Also chips because Sophie insisted, and two of those chocolate chip cookies you like." Mac looked suddenly uncertain. "Is that okay? I should have asked first. I just thought—"
"It's perfect." Rachel's voice came out softer than intended.
"Cool. Good. Great." Mac's grin returned, that boyish, genuine smile that made her stomach flip. "Where can we eat? I don't want to get you in trouble for having food in the stacks."
"Break room. Come on."
The library's break room was tiny, barely bigger than a closet, with a small table, two chairs, a mini fridge, and a microwave that only worked on certain days. But it was private, and right now, that felt important.
Mac unpacked the sandwiches while Rachel grabbed napkins, and then they were sitting across from each other in the cramped space, knees bumping under the small table.
"So," Mac said, unwrapping his sandwich. "How's your day been? Scale of one to ten, with ten being 'amazing' and one being 'currently being crushed by falling bookshelves.'"
Rachel laughed despite herself. "Solid six? Mrs. Henderson returned all her books early, which is suspicious. I think she finished them all in two days."
"Is that unusual?"
