Books on chest.
Thick glasses.
Head down.
Anti-social.
Me.
Theodore Walker is the boy everyone forgets that is in their class. Anyone can ask who he is and the person would respond with: "Oh! Him? I forgot he even went to this school." The only person that seems to know about his existence is the librarian. Of course. Mrs. Mills, the old lady with the warmest smile, is his only true friend amongst these horny teenagers.
"Here."
Thud!
Mrs. Mills lays a thick book on a wooden table.
"That was loud," I say, pulling it close to me. "Aren't libraries supposed to be quiet?"
"When there are people that need to concentrate," she replies, looking around the empty room. "But no individual in Sunset High ever dares to lay one foot in here."
She looks down at me. "Well, except you."
I smile.
Suddenly, the biggest twist in the history of the world happens.
The library door opens.
Now, it wouldn't be a twist if it was me or Mrs. Mills opening it—sometimes even the janitors—but this time it was neither of us.
"What book should I read?" asks a tall guy wearing a leather jacket that is almost as brown as his caramel hair.
Mrs. Mills and I look at each other.
She speaks first. "Theo can help you—he knows where every book is."
She moves her hand toward me. "I'm pretty sure he can find you the perfect one."
The guy raises both eyebrows at me. "Can you?"
I glance at Mrs. Mills with wide eyes before facing him. "Sure."
I stand up and walk up to him.
"So for what class is the book?" I ask, pulling my glasses higher up my nose and rubbing the palm of my hands together.
"The book is for no class," he says. "It's for me."
I cannot help but tilt my head to the side. "Are you being forced to read?"
He nods, chewing the inside of his cheek.
"I figured," I whisper under my breath, looking down.
"What was that?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I look up. "Nothing."
From close, his features are more visible and not hard to notice. His eyes are a dark green that almost makes them look brown, like a deep hazel color. Also, long eyelashes that make his eyes look bigger than they are. There is a warm olive tone in his skin and faint freckles over his nose area that proves how much he has been in the sun.
"What are you into?" I ask, avoiding the heat rising to my cheeks as he stares at me.
"Sports," he replies.
Right.
"Is there anything you're interested in that is not sports?" I ask since I've never picked up a book about that.
He looks at the white ceiling that has stars floating on a thread that I helped Mrs. Mills hang last year. His eyes come down to me as he shrugs. "How about you choose?"
"You want me to pick a book for you?" I say, unsure if that's a good idea since we clearly have different tastes when it comes to entertainment.
"I'm pretty sure you just rephrased what I said," he says, smiling.
Rephrased.
Good.
That proves he's not as illiterate as I thought.
"Follow me," I say, heading down the shelves before taking a turn. "I'm going to show you my favorite book."
He groans. "Now I will feel forced to read it because it's your favorite one."
I look over my shoulder as I walk between shelves. "You're being forced to read anyways."
He chuckles. "True."
I stop, looking over the spines with care while tapping a finger on my lip.
"Who is making you read?" I ask while searching.
He rests a shoulder on the shelf. "My English teacher."
I continue looking. "You're failing his class?"
"Yeah," he says. "He said that he will bring my grade up if I finish an entire book."
"Why don't you get a kid's book?" I ask, smiling without facing him. "You can finish it in less than a second."
"I was planning on doing that, but he warned me about doing so," he admits.
I finally pull a book out with a wide grin on my face. "Here," I say, stretching it to him.
He takes it, his cold hand caressing mine for a second.
I pull away.
"We Are The Ants?" he reads the title. "Why would I read about ants?"
I laugh. "It's not about ants."
He grins at the sight of me laughing. "Alright. I'll read it."
"You're welcome," I say, sinking my hands on my pockets.
"I haven't said thank you yet," he reminds me.
I smile. "But you will."
He grins, straightening from laying on the shelf. "What's your name?"
I am surprised that he even cares about my name. "Theo Walker."
"Thank you, Theo," he says, raising the book. "I am Harvey Cohen."
"I know," I say.
He is taken aback."How?"
I turn around and start heading back to the table where my backpack awaits.
"We are in the same grade," I announce, leaving him behind.
See.
Told you.
No one remembers me.
_____
A\N: What do you think about this chapter? I will most likely update once each week.
LIKE AND COMMENT PLS!
:)