I nod, looking down to make sure Milo stayed put. “I’ll see you next week.”
As I rush toward my car with Milo’s stroller in tow, I glance back over my shoulder. Henry is still standing there, hands in his pockets, watching me with that same unreadable smile.
CHAPTER 7
When Wednesday rolls around, I’m feeling on edge. After our agreement, I had to mentally prepare myself to spend more time around Henry. I had to keep reminding myself that this was a business transaction and nothing more.
I look at the time on my phone screen; it’s almost time for our tutoring session. I agreed to meet with him after his writing group, which ends in exactly ten minutes.
My mind rewinds to earlier today when I was trying to poke around for more details about Henry. The director told me that they didn't have sign-ups when the library first introduced the teen writing program. But then Henry approached her about volunteering here over the summer and took on the group. Once word got around that a published author was leading the group, the sign-ups started rolling in. Or at least the four they had received.
I decide to grab my laptop and start walking toward the corner of the library, where it’s surprisingly quiet. As my flats sink into the plush carpet, I notice that Henry and the four teenagers hovering around him are immersed in whatever they’re scribbling down on the paper in front of them.
My eyes shift over the group. There are three young men and a girl who is nervously tapping her feet. The same nervous tick I developed around the same age. My eyes save the best part for last and finally land on Henry.
He is locked into reading the small stack of papers in front of him. His pupils dart back and forth as he intently focuses on the material. My heartbeat steadies as I relish a moment of unwarranted access to him.
The way his brow furrows reveals a deep line of concentration. He presses his lips together with a purpose, and the main purpose appears to be making my own lips tremble.
I admire his ability to tune out the outside world and focus on one thing at a time. He often makes me feel like that when he talks to me.
There’s a distant intensity in his laser focus. It’s effortless, confident, and almost intoxicating. For a moment, I want to be the thing that holds his attention for so long. I want the intensity of his watchful gaze to burn me up from the inside out.
An obnoxious beeping noise startles me, and the laptop I’m clutching almost slips out of my hands. When I refocus on Henry, his eyes are already staring back. I have to remember how to breathe.
The eye contact is brief before he pulls his attention back to his students. The girl is the only one that notices his focus shift and now she’s turned her head toward me as well. I flash her a friendly smile and she offers me a nervous one in return.
“Alright, everyone. Great job on the first writing prompt. I want each person to hand their paper to the person on their right, myself excluded. You’re each going to peer review each other’s story and we can discuss your thoughts during next week’s meeting.”
Each student does what they’re told, and Henry exchanges a few goodbyes before they’re on their way out thedoor. I wait until each child has evacuated the space, not wanting to seem too eager for our session.
Just as I’m about to head toward Henry, a small voice grabs my attention. “Would I be able to check this out?”
I look down at the girl from the writing group and she’s holding a familiar title I haven’t thought about in years. Flashbacks of late-night debates with Wren on whether Edward was hotter than Jacob fill my mind. “Yeah, sure. Just give me one second. I’ll meet you at the front desk.”
I walk over to Henry and set my laptop down next to him. “Are you ready to get started?”
“Yes, but I have to help one of your students really quick.”
He nods his head, and his lips tilt up in a bone-chilling smile. “Okay. Do you want to show me a draft of your assignment so I can start looking at his while you’re helping Julia?”
“Sure,” I answer. It only takes me a few moments to pull up the document on my computer, but it feels like time slows down as I hover over the mahogany table. I can feel his eyes sear into the side of my face, and it makes it difficult to concentrate on even the simplest task.
Thankfully, I persevere, and within seconds, I’m on my feet, heading toward the front. My skin feels cooler the moment I break away from his gaze.
When I approach the front desk, Julia is immersed in the book she pulled off the shelf only moments ago. I never actually readTwilight. I only watched the movies. Wren was the bookworm in our friendship, and she dragged me to the theaters when it came out. I was hesitant at first, but I quickly fell in love with Edward. He was otherworldly, mysterious, and intelligent. Unfortunately, I ignored my own senses and decided to marry a Jacob. Big mistake.
“Hey,” I greet her and almost startle the girl. “Do you have your library card?”
While Julia shuffles around in her backpack for her card, I notice the dark circles hovering below her eyelids. Withoutthinking, my eyes go to her hands, and sure enough, there’s raw, irritated skin surrounding her fingernails. It might be a coincidence, but I file the information away for later.
“Here you go,” she says quietly while handing me her worn-down library card. I can tell she comes here often, but this is the first time I’ve noticed her for some reason.
“Thank you,” I reply, taking the card from her hand. My stare catches on the way her hand shakes slightly. It’s a familiar tick I can’t seem to shake in adulthood.
I quietly scan her card and then the book before handing both back to her. If I had to guess her age, I would say she’s about sixteen. Her curly brown hair is pulled up into a tight bun, and her outfit is almost too formal for a teenager, with her blouse tucked into some khaki jeans. It’s summer, yet she’s dressed like she’s about to interview for a job. I wasn’t sure what to think.
“Have you watched the movies?” I ask, attempting to corral her attention.
