AURELIA SINCLAIR, ARE YOU DEVELOPING A CRUSH?

Chapter 4

Aurelia

"Sorry," I whispered automatically, reaching for the book. "I didn't see you there."

"That's because you weren't looking," he said, his voice deep and smooth. He didn't hand me the book immediately, instead examining the cover. "Psychology 101. Are you a freshman?"

I nodded, not trusting my voice to work properly. My brain was screaming at me that this gorgeous stranger was talking to me, actually talking to me, and I needed to say something normal and not weird.

"What's your name?" he asked, finally holding out the textbook.

I took it with shaking hands. "Aurelia."

"Aurelia," he repeated, like he was testing how it sounded. "That's unusual. Pretty."

My face burned. Was he making fun of me? That had to be it. Guys who looked like him didn't compliment girls who looked like me.

"Thanks," I managed to say, clutching my textbook to my chest like a shield.

He stood up to his full height, and I had to crane my neck to maintain eye contact. Then I immediately looked away because eye contact was too much, too intense.

"I'm, uh, I should get back to studying," I stammered, backing toward my carrel.

"Wait," he said, and something in his voice made me pause. "What are you studying? In the textbook, I mean."

I glanced down at the open page. "Cognitive behavioral therapy. For anxiety disorders."

"Are you interested in psychology?"

"I guess. I haven't really figured out what I'm interested in yet, I'm just trying to survive my classes." I had no idea why I was telling him this, I didn't tell strangers things.

He smiled slightly, and it transformed his face from intimidatingly handsome to devastatingly handsome.

"Surviving is underrated, everyone acts like you're supposed to love college and find your passion immediately. But sometimes just getting through the day is enough."

I looked up at him in surprise. "Exactly. That's exactly how I feel."

"Most people don't get that," he said, taking a step closer. Not threatening, just interested.

"They think if you're not thriving, you're failing, but survival is its own kind of success."

"Are you a philosophy major?" I asked, then immediately regretted it because it sounded stupid.

He laughed, a low sound that did strange things to my stomach. "Business, actually. But I read a lot. Philosophy, literature, whatever I can get my hands on. What about you?"

"I haven't declared a major yet."

"Smart. No point committing until you know what you actually want." He paused. "Can I ask you something?"

"Okay," I said hesitantly.

"Why do you hide?"

I blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"The hoodie. The way you're standing like you want to disappear into the floor. The fact that you won't look at me for more than two seconds." His grey eyes were studying me intently. "Why do you hide?"

I felt exposed, like he'd stripped away all my defenses with a single question. "I'm not hiding. This is just how I dress."

"Okay," he said, but his tone suggested he didn't believe me. "What are you reading? Besides the textbook."

The change in subject threw me. "Um, I just finished The Stand by Stephen King."

His eyes lit up. "The Stand? That's over a thousand pages. You actually finished it?"

"I've read it three times," I admitted.

"Three times?" He looked genuinely impressed. "Most people won't even read it once because of the length."

"The length is part of the appeal," I said, feeling slightly more confident talking about books. "You get to live in that world for longer, get to know the characters so deeply. It's like being part of something bigger than yourself."

He was quiet for a moment, just looking at me with an expression I couldn't read. "That's a beautiful way to put it."

I felt my face heating again. "It's just a book."

"No," he said firmly. "It's not just a book. Not if it makes you feel like you're part of something bigger." He pulled out his phone. "I'm reading it right now, actually. The Stand. I'm about halfway through."

"Really?" I couldn't hide my surprise.

"Really." He showed me his Kindle app, which was indeed open to The Stand. "What's your favorite part?"

And just like that, we started talking about Stephen King. About the characters we loved and hated. About the themes of good versus evil, society versus chaos. About how terrifying and hopeful the ending was.

I forgot to be anxious, forgot to feel ugly and worthless. I just talked about something I loved with someone who actually cared about what I had to say.

We talked for what felt like minutes but must have been longer because suddenly Sienna was back, holding two coffee cups and staring at us with barely concealed shock.

"Aurelia," she said slowly. "I was gone for twenty minutes. Who's your friend?"

I suddenly realized I'd been talking to a stranger for twenty minutes and hadn't even gotten his name. "I, um, I don't actually know."

The man turned to Sienna and smiled politely. "I'm sorry, I dropped by to return a book and got distracted by a conversation about Stephen King. I should let you both get back to studying."

He looked at me again with those intense grey eyes. "It was nice talking to you, Aurelia. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Maybe," I said weakly.

He walked toward the elevator, and I watched him go, feeling strange. Like something significant had just happened but I couldn't figure out what.

"Okay," Sienna said, sitting down and handing me a coffee I hadn't asked for. "What the hell was that?"

"What was what?"

"That guy, that insanely hot guy. Was just having a full conversation with you about books?"

"He dropped my textbook and we just talked." I wrapped my hands around the warm coffee cup, still feeling off-balance.

"You hate talking to people. You can barely talk to me and I'm delightful." Sienna leaned forward. "But you were just chatting away like it was normal. What's different about him?"

"I don't know," I admitted. "He asked me about the book I'm reading and I just started talking. It was easy."

"Easy," Sienna repeated. "You found talking to that gorgeous stranger easy."

"I didn't say he was gorgeous."

"You didn't have to, eyes work." Sienna took a sip of her coffee, studying me. "Did you get his name?"

"No."

"Are you going to try to find out who he is?"

"No," I said immediately. "It was just a random conversation. It doesn't mean anything."

But even as I said it, I kept thinking about his blue eyes and the way he'd said my name was pretty.

The way he'd understood about survival being enough, the way talking to him had felt natural instead of terrifying.

"You're smiling," Sienna observed.

I immediately stopped smiling. "No, I'm not."

"You were definitely smiling. Aurelia Sinclair, are you developing a crush?"

"No," I said firmly. "I'm not. I don't do crushes."

"Everyone does crushes, that's literally how humans work."

"Not me." I opened my textbook with more force than necessary. "Can we please study now?"

Sienna held up her hands in surrender. "Fine. But for the record, if mystery library guy shows up again, you should actually get his name. Maybe even his number."

"That's not going to happen," I said.

Except I kept glancing at the elevator for the rest of our study session, hoping he might come back. He didn't.

When Sienna and I finally left the library around four PM, I felt different somehow. Lighter, like I'd taken a step outside my comfort zone and survived.

"Same time next Friday?" Sienna asked as we walked back toward the dorms.

"Same time," I agreed.

"And if mystery library guy is there?"

"Then I'll hide under a desk."

Sienna laughed. "You're impossible. But I love it. See you Monday for coffee."