An Angel Wears Hightops [A Sequel to The Devil Wears Girl Jeans]

An Angel Wears Hightops (Chapter 5)

I made my way through the library slowly, completely overwhelmed by the amount of books they had. I mean, yeah, it was a library, but still. There were a lot of them, bordering on an unnecessary amount, and it made me feel trapped. Battered spines stared down at me from every angle as I hunted for the section I needed, careful not to make any noise as I navigated my way through the aisles. Judging by the look on the librarians face, the slightest noise would probably call for her to hit me with an encyclopedia, or at least something else equally as heavy and damage inducing. Being smote by a 5”2 elderly librarian was definitely not on my list of things to do today.

“You look lost, what're ya lookin' for?” asked a deep voice from behind me, and I whipped around to see who had spoken, fully expecting it to be some kind of library security guard, sent to punish me for breathing too loudly or something. Instead, it was a guy a few years older than me, leaning carelessly against a shelf packed with Sci-Fi novels.

He was well over six feet tall, with evenly tanned skin and a tangle of dark dread locks, contained behind a blue bandanna. Leather pants, plastered with patches advertising various bands, clung to his narrow hips, accompanied by a flannel shirt, and I gaped up at him. He was beautiful, not in a handsome way, but in one of those ways where he was just interesting to look at. I'd never seen anyone quite like him before, and it was obvious that he wasn't from around here.

“Uhhh....”

“Hmm,” he said, pretending to think for a moment, “I don't think they have a section on that here.”

“That was a terrible joke,” I noted, mildly fascinated by the fact that this guy had a hint of a British accent when he talked, because lets be honest, who doesn't love British accents? No one, that's who.

“Yeah, but it worked. It made you talk to me,” he grinned, flashing his perfectly white teeth at me.

I laughed nervously and glanced away, letting my hair fall in my face. I hadn't talked to any guys other than Mickey and Poe in nearly six months, and hadn't even considered flirting with anyone since Tristan left.

“For real though, what section?” he asked again, pushing away from the bookshelf and taking a few confident steps in my direction, so that he was towering over me. I craned my neck up to look at him, and noticed a tiny silver septum piercing dangling from between his nostrils.

“Uh...Like, supernatural?” I said it just like that, as if it was a question. God, was I nervous. “Like, ghosts? And stuff like that?”

“Ah,” he smirked, raising an eyebrow at me, “You're one of those people,”

“N-no. I swear, it's just that, like, uh-”

“No no, it's cool. I know people like you, don't worry. Follow me.” he instructed, turning and striding back down the aisle. After multiple random twists and turns, as well as making two complete loops around the library, it became apparent that this guy knew the library about as well as I did, which is to say, not at all.

“You have no idea where it is, do you?” I asked, coming to a stop near the children's books. He turned around and shot me another one of his dazzling smiles.

“Not a clue. Our bus broke down outside, so I've been wandering around here to kill time while they call a mechanic.”

“Your bus?” I asked, staring at him blankly. He nodded, hopping up on to one of the low shelves that bordered the room and motioned for me to come sit beside him. Considering I didn't have the same sort of grasshopper legs that he did, it was a lot more difficult to get up, but I managed.

“Yeah, my band and I are on our way home from our last tour. The bus broke down though, so looks like we're stranded here until whenever.” he sighed, looking at me with the saddest puppy dog expression I'd ever seen.