Chapter One: Max

Warnings: Anxiety.


I'm at the library. Usually I don't like places filled with too many people, but the library is all right. Some floors are quiet, so I can hide there for a while if I need to. Even on the floors where people are noisy, it's subtle. Whispered conversations and rushed studying fade into a kind of background hum that's almost comforting.

I look down at my carefully written list, making sure I have all the books I need in the bag that's looped over my arm. They're all about projects that need to be done around the building, but they're ones I don't know how to do. If I have instructions, though, I can figure out almost anything.

Some people would call that smart, I suppose. August would say that it means I don't know how to do anything for myself.

Because I'm weak.

Because I'm a coward.

Because I'm worthless.

I bite my lower lip hard between my teeth to make the voice in my head go away. I'd bite my arm instead, but I can't here. It would look strange.

I crumple my list up in my hand, sticking it into my pocket and grabbing my keys, rhythmically clicking the latch on their ring. It calms me down enough, but I still need to get out of here.

I start to walk toward the desk so I can check out my books and leave, but I stop when I hear her voice.

It takes me a moment to locate her because the lobby is full of people, but the instant I see her, I know, because she looks like an angel.

Bright.

Pure.

Beautiful.

Her light brown hair falls in soft waves to just below her chin and above her shoulders. As I watch, she tucks it behind her ear, which lets me see her profile better. Her face is round and full; the apple of her cheek rises as she smiles at an employee, and her nose has a little swoop to it at the end that's adorable. She's very pale, and her face is slightly flushed a lovely shade of pink. I wish I could see more, but I'm too far away, and I'm afraid to get closer.

I let my eyes wander down over the curve of her neck and shoulders. Her white dress is sleeveless and a little loose, but I can still see her figure. She has well-formed arms and small, delicate hands. She's curvy, a little on the heavy side, but that hardly matters; it doesn't diminish her stillness or her poise. Her legs are shapely; her skirt falls about halfway down her thighs, so I can see most of them.

I realize that I've been standing in one spot for an unusually long time just to look at her. I lick my lips and move to the counter, smiling nervously at the man there and glancing sideways at her. Her mouth is moving; it's plump and curves slightly upward.

"Thank you so much," she says, smiling. Her smile is radiant, and her voice is musical. From this angle, I can see that the only make-up she's wearing is a smear of carefully applied balm that makes her lips shiny. She's not even trying to be pretty. She just is. I wish I could see what color her eyes are.

She turns away and I gather my things slowly, looking over my shoulder and watching her attach a flier to the bulletin board there. I wonder what it says. Once it's up, she walks further into the library. Maybe she's looking for a book.

I wander over to the flier, unable to help myself. I raise my eyebrows in shock and bite my lower lip again when I realize that it says she's looking for an apartment. I quickly scan the details. She's willing to pay $4000 or less a month in rent for at least one bedroom. Doesn't have any pets. Clean. Quiet. A graduate student who has an odd schedule sometimes. Would prefer a locked building if possible.

Besides the price, I have everything she needs. And I can lower the price.

The voice in my head speaks again. It tells me I'm useless, that a woman like her would never want a man like me. No matter how hard I tried, I'd never be good enough for her. It would be better if I didn't tempt myself, because I might not be able to resist.

But I push the voice aside, reaching up and taking one of the little tabs from the flier. If there's even a chance, I have to try.

Someone like her could break me out of the walls.

As I head for the door, I bump into someone and hear a book fall to the ground. My cheeks get hot immediately and I drop her number, opening my mouth to apologize.

The words die on my lips as I realize that it's her standing in front of me.

"Oh!" she gasps, her hand splayed over the visible part of her chest as she steadies herself. "I'm so sorry; I wasn't paying attention to where I was going." She bends down, scooping up her book and the little piece of paper before I can regain my composure. She bites her lower lip as she straightens back up and smiles at me shyly. It's so stunning when she bites her lip; I'm sure I look crazy when I do it.

She holds the slip out to me and I take it, finally managing to smile back at her. Her eyes are hazel, I realize. Suddenly, I can't breathe. She's achingly perfect, and I'm just… me.

"Did you know of an available apartment?" she finally asks, breaking the awkward silence. "That's my flier," she quickly explains, pointing to it. She doesn't realize that I've already noticed her. "My roommates are driving me crazy," she adds, laughing nervously.

I can barely concentrate enough to answer her. "Yeah, I know of one," I manage to say, trying not to trip over my words.

"Do you know if it's available for viewing tomorrow, by chance?" she inquires. "I'm sorry to be pushy… I just need a new place."

She needs something from me. I can help her. That's what breaks me out of my trance.

I want so badly for someone to need me.

"It is," I answer, finding my bearings. "Do you have something to write with? I can give you the address." She nods eagerly, pulling a notepad and pen out of her bag. Most people would have pulled out a phone; I like that she carries something to write on. I look at her bashfully as I give her the information.

"Is there a phone number?" she asks. "So I can make an appointment?"

"No appointment needed," I tell her. "I'm the owner. Any time between nine and five is fine."

Her smile broadens. "Oh, the owner! It must be my lucky day. I'll try to be there around… two? I'm looking at a few other units tomorrow morning."

"Sure. Two sounds great," I answer. I'm not worried about her other viewings. Once she sees mine, she won't want another. "I'm Max. Um, just buzz when you get there and I'll let you in. I'll probably be working, so you can follow the noise." I slip my hand back into my pocket and start clicking my keys again because my ears are starting to ring. It's something that happens when I'm very uneasy, and I know the sound is only going to get louder. For now, the conversation is going well, but I'm getting more nervous by the minute. If we talk much longer, I know I'll screw it up, and then she won't come.

She holds her book to her chest and beams at me. "Thank you, Max. I really appreciate it. I'm Robin, by the way. Robin Ballard." She dips her head reservedly, and I wonder why. It can't be because of me.

Can it?

"Well, Max, I should get out of your hair. I'll see you tomorrow, though." I'm not sure how to end the conversation, and it seems that she doesn't know either, because she simply goes to check out her book without saying anything else. My eyes linger on her for one more moment, and then I finally step out into the cool evening air.

I sling my bag more securely over my shoulder so I can wring my hands together. It's not as obvious as the biting, and it calms me down. Once I'm in the building, I immediately feel better. I'm safe here, because there's always a place to hide. A place where I can be alone if I need it.

I slip quietly into my apartment. August is already asleep, thank goodness. I couldn't have dealt with him tonight. I deposit my books on the bed and slip my shoes off, padding down the hallway to the apartment that I plan to show her.

There aren't any curtains on the windows, so the light from the streetlights and the moon filters in, bathing the rooms in an eerie light. I find it comforting, and the ringing in my ears starts to recede.

I stretch out in the middle of the floor, my arms behind my head. She'll be here tomorrow. I know she'll like it, but I hope she'll love it.

I close my eyes and think about her. I'm tired because of all the anxiety, and I feel myself already starting to fall asleep.

My last thoughts are of how her skin would feel beneath my fingertips.

I imagine that she's soft, like silk or rose petals.