The library is the most disgusting place in the whole world to be at on a Saturday. My reasons are given thusly. 1, it's dusty and dark and dismal…and a whole lot of other words that start with d and go downhill from there. 2, the only other people here could be replaced with zombies and no one would ever know the difference. 3, It's so quiet you can hear the librarian flipping pages from half the room away. They're big rooms. I mean, big.
I glanced up impishly from the drunken swerve of my handwriting long enough to glance around again. Nope, the zombie apocalypse was still currently in motion. At this rate, they'd take the capital by next century. Books were strategically piled around me, and hidden beneath the paper was the secret orange and pink of a manga I'd hidden from mom this morning. The unruly fringe of golden hair danced as I huffed and kicked my feet.
Seriously, who assigns homework on a warm, delicious weekend like this? Miss Haruna, that's who. That crazy, love twisted fiend has stolen yet another perfectly good gaming day from me. Even Mom, who somehow has gained telekinetic powers, knew I'd taken my phone when we left the house this morning. Barring world war three, I wouldn't get it back till this stupid paper was done.
I glanced irritably at the stack of books in front of me. They weren't even interesting to read! Nothing ever happened to the people who wrote them, and the people they're about are as ridiculous as my shifting, undead library friends. Who cares about random wars and nations and…other stuff. Ok, so I actually didn't know anything about them. That's why the paper was assigned, so I would learn, right?
Glowering was clearly the only answer to this thought. I missed my phone. I just downloaded like twenty new games on that dumb thing. The worst of it all was realizing that even though she had it, the communicator was still wedged in my pocket. Yippy. To be honest, I'd be glad for any distraction from this crushing hell of books and dust, even if being a sailor was only slightly less bad. At least Luna wasn't here to babysit.
"I never thought I'd see the day." Someone whistled quietly in mock surprise. The already-heat-sealed glower sunk another level. Talk about words that start with D and go downhill…
"Oh good! The zombie king has returned! You're swaggering, lurching minions await among the stacks, my liege!" the wild cackle grew from the chest out, loud enough to ring in the silence. Though the room sizzled with hushes soon afterward, I could easily ignore them. Even fighting with him seemed more interesting than stupid history.
"My liege, hu? I see you've come a long way on your…history." The sarcastic blue slits of his devil eyes were switching between my hate list, and the wall I'd erected earlier. I have always considered myself a lady; which is why I primly stuck my tongue out at him and slouched back in the seat.
"Oh, Sherlock! You're so brilliant, would you please, please impart your genius to us all?" I drawled, all the while starting a doodle on the side of the page. He was quiet, which made me shift a little. Since when did Darien –kill-me-before-he-does Shields actually shut his arrogant mouth? I risked a glance his way, and was surprised to note a slight reddish sheen. It was difficult to stop the evil laugh from erupting again. He was easy to anger today too! Oh, this was going to be good.
"What are you doing here, Meatball brains?" He drawled, folding his arms as if I were invading his sanctuary. I glared, knowing it to be true.
"Studying. Obviously." I gestured to the stack of unopened books as if he should have known better than to ask. Of course, I was trying hard not to make it look like none of them had been chosen at random.
"Hmm, yes. Studying for…what exactly?" Blast the man.
"Library things! Hello!" I kicked my feet impatiently, directly ignoring the Librarian's command to shush. Crotchety old woman was probably just mad because she had to spend the day here too! I wondered if she was also without a beloved cell phone. I laid my head against the table again, finishing my demented bunny drawing. He continued to stare. "What are you doing here, ya jerk? Don't you have important things to do today? Like stealing candy from babies and pushing old ladies in the street?"
"Into." He corrected quietly, making my head shoot up.
"What?"
"Into the street. Your grammar is awful." His mouth was twisting upward while he spoke, as if laughing at the pathetic joke that was my education. The halls of doom were closing in as I searched in vain for something to jab him about. The upperclass monster was a freak of nature, though, and looked impeccable despite having horrendous fashion sense.
"Not nearly as awful as that nasty jacket. It's 90 degrees outside, you freak!" I all but crowed, feeling a sense of accomplishment, though the stupid jacket had been the center of conversation since we met.
"…you're probably right." He murmured, glancing down at it. The reddish tinge to his face was growing like sunburn on a baby's butt. Oddly enough, it didn't seem as consistent as it should have been though. Was he angry, or just embarrassed?
"Dude, why are you so….red. And glowey." The sudden change was a bit disturbing. Darien was a creep –he wasn't allowed to just not fire back like usual. Didn't he read the stupid rule book of our lives? He just shrugged it off, reaching up to touch his face. "Really? Its kinda…going in and out. Like a heart monitor."
"It's fine." He said finally, shifting awkwardly to leave. Yeah, he was definitely on some sort of drugs to be hanging around even after he wanted to go. I balked, watching the redness blink on and off like a light bulb. "it's getting worse, isn't it?"
"Make love to a traffic light?" the question felt like a natural jab, but for some reason it was just too disturbing to really enjoy myself. He didn't seem to mind, the smile flashing through his features. It made me wonder if he'd gotten caught in that last fight. Hadn't there been a blinky light on that camera?
"Can I just…do one thing?" he asked finally, obviously not willing to leave until I agreed. Cautiously, I shifted my head up to see what it could possibly be.
Oh…smooth caramel heaven made of bliss. Was I crazy, or was my deceptively delicious tormentor actually kissing me? If only all our fights could end this way. I tried to remind myself he was the zombie king, but the idea didn't stick. He was much too warm, much too real. Rather than sitting there gobsmacked and stupid, I jerked back, knocking the books over as I went.
The klutz struck again, leaving my fortress of solitude barely a half shell. The man was staring at me with –oh heaven forbid it –bedroom eyes. I gawked, the awkward teenager that I was, and wondered why the heck I'd pulled away. Total jack-off, definitely, but the man was smoking something fine!
My arch nemesis was grinning like he'd gotten the tail of a helpless cat and was ready to drown it. He straightened, touched his forelock like we're waged a war and I'd lost, and promptly turned to leave. I huffed, staring around the room and wondering when the hoards would close in on me. Even the Librarian was staring.
"April fools." He called back, no longer worried if he was bothering anyone. I gulped, reaching up to touch my hot face in curiosity. The searing heat burned a bare moment, then ice over again. I groaned, wishing I'd smacked him instead.
"Aw crap, it's contagious!"