Tug-at-your-heartstrings new adult first love story.
What starts as a bet to avoid cleanup duties at her minimum wage cashier job, wins Amelie D'Amico more than she's ever hoped for.
When Ben, a cute customer who always checkouts at her register, fi...
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The stack of pages I printed out from today's session at the microfilm machine is an inch thick, and I'm only halfway through the dang thing. I'm running out of time. The rolls will be sent back to the Library of Congress next week. I should keep going, but I just can't. The sounds of rolling the film forward and backward comes to me in my dreams. I've been here every day before work and I'm ready to cry at the sight of one of these monstrosities. I return it to the librarian and walk up to the ninth floor.
The Winter Garden under the glass roof of the Harold Washington Library Center is my favorite place to study. The calm space is full of light and looks more like a plaza than an inside of a building. One of the little tables in the middle of the enormous hall is empty. I stare at the copies of the handwritten manuscript. How can I get through these pages when I can't figure out half of what the portions in Latin even say? I fold my arms on the table and bury my face in them. I'm doomed.
"Amélie?" A familiar voice calls my name.
I lift my head and find a guy next to me, silhouetted against the light. Black jeans. Blue long-sleeved T-shirt. I sit up all the way.
"What are you doing here?" He moves his longish disheveled hair behind his ear.
I know this voice. And this face. "Oh, hi, Ben. Fancy seeing you here."
"Nothing fancy. Picking up a special-order book for Tall. You?"
"Research for the thesis." I point at the photocopies in front of me.
He looks at them then at me. "Didn't look like you were reading."
"No kidding. I hoped I could struggle through some of these before I have to go to work, but my brain's fried."
"Running helps me when my head is stuck."
"Lucky you. I don't run."
"You told me. How much time do you have?"
"About an hour."
"Plenty of time for a walk." Ben nods toward the exit.
"But it's raining." A walk might be an excellent idea, but one that requires me to get off this chair first.
"How about one indoors?" He looks around the room. "This way." Ben strides to the left. I hurry to stuff my papers into my bag and follow.
"Where are you taking me?"
"Tour of the library. We should have plenty of time before you need to go."
"Okay." I catch a corner of my lip going up. The thought of a private tour with Ben as my guide gives me a boost of energy three cups of coffee failed at.
"Do you know anything about Harold Washington? The man this building was named after?"
"I mean, he was the first African-American Mayor of Chicago."
