"She usually takes a week. I think she's speed-reading so she has an excuse to come back and check on my love life." Rachel took a bite of her sandwich. It was perfect, exactly how she liked it, with extra pickles and no tomatoes. "Wait. Did you tell Sophie how I like my sandwich?"
"I may have asked her. Very casually. Like I definitely wasn't taking notes." Mac grinned. "Was I right?"
"Completely right." Rachel's throat felt tight. "How did you, nobody ever remembers the pickle thing."
"I pay attention." Mac said it so simply, like it was obvious. "You mentioned it once, like two weeks ago. At Sophie's. You told her you didn't like tomatoes on sandwiches but you did like pickles, and she said that was weird, and you said—"
"'My sandwich preferences are not up for debate,'" Rachel finished, staring at him. "You remembered that?"
"I remember everything you tell me, Rachel. Even the small stuff. Especially the small stuff." Mac took a bite of his sandwich, seemingly unaware that he'd just said something that made her heart stutter.
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, and Rachel found herself watching Mac. The way he ate without being self-conscious. The way he checked his phone once, frowned at something in the team group chat, then put it away to focus on her. The way he listened when she started rambling about a book patron who'd requested seventeen different biographies, about the same person.
"You actually care about this," Rachel said suddenly.
Mac looked up. "About biographies?"
"About my day. My boring librarian day where nothing exciting happens." Rachel set down her sandwich. "You asked how my day was and you actually listened to the answer."
"Why wouldn't I listen?"
"Because most people don't. They ask because it's polite, but they don't actually want to hear about Mrs. Henderson's readinghabits or the broken printer or the kid who tried to check out the same dinosaur book five times in a row."
Mac smiled. "Did you let him?"
"Obviously. He's seven and obsessed with velociraptors." Rachel paused. "But my point is, you're actually interested. In the mundane stuff. In me."
"Rachel, of course I'm interested in you. You're—" Mac stopped, seeming to search for words. "You're the most interesting person I know."
"I work in a library. I alphabetize things for a living."
"You work in a library where you help people find exactly the book they need. You recommended three books to that college student last week and she came back and said they changed how she thinks about her major. You know every single regular patron by name. You organize story time for kids every Saturday morning on your day off because you love it." Mac leaned forward slightly.
Rachel couldn't breathe properly. "Mac—"
"And yeah, I care about your day. All of it. The good parts and the boring parts and the frustrated parts. Because it's your day, and you matter to me."
The break room suddenly felt very small. Very warm.
"Why do you look at me like that?" Rachel asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Like what?"
"Like I'm... I don't know. Special."
Mac reached across the table, taking her hand. His thumb traced circles on her palm, and Rachel felt that simple touch everywhere.
"Because you are special," Mac said quietly.
"What if who I am is boring?"
"Then boring is my new favorite thing." Mac's voice dropped lower, rougher. "But you're not boring. You're you. And I really, really like you."
Rachel's breath caught. The way he was looking at her, likeshe was the only person in the world, like he could sit here all day just watching her exist, made her pulse kick up.
Mac's gaze dropped to her mouth. Lingered there. His jaw tightened, and Rachel watched his throat work as he swallowed.
"Mac—"
