30 Kisses Challenge
Theme #5 = Library Archives
Chapter Two: A Kiss in the Archives
Jackson wasn't looking forward doing the research for her journalism class. Journalism was supposed to about tracking down leads, and finding clues, and solving mysteries, and telling the world everything it needed to know, not finding one specific article in the archives of a library that allegedly held over fifteen thousand individual newspapers alone.
Stopping at the front desk, for she'd never been to this library before, Jackson asked, "Hello, can you point me in the direction of the newspaper archives?"
The woman at the desk raised her eyebrows as if to say what kind of a person actually wants to go into that hellish mess of old, dusty papers? Instead of saying that, of course, the woman smiled, and replied, "Sure. It's right down that hallway. You'll know it when you see it, believe me."
"Thanks." Jackson returned the smile, turning away towards the aforementioned hallway.
Sure enough, the short hallway led into one large, brightly lit room full of stacks upon stacks of old newspapers. Organized in rows by year, then further divided into month and date, and then finally separated by newspaper title. If everything was correctly put away, no trouble should be found while looking for the needed article.
"Alright," Jackson murmured to herself as she began walking through the stacks, "time to get down to business."
Turning the corner perhaps a little too fast, Jackson slammed into a hard body. A soft grunt of surprise, and a tumble bodies to the ground later Jackson realized that she had in fact run into somebody. She looked up, mouth ready to spew forth apologies like a waterfall of shame when her eyes met those of a familiar dark chocolate set.
"What are you doing here?" Jackson gasped loudly, momentarily forgetting that she was in a library.
The young man bit the end of his thumb and drew in a deep, lazy breath. "Watari thought I should get out more. He thinks I need more sunlight."
"Watari?" Jackson asked instead of pointing at that he was inside a library, and therefore not letting the sun's precious rays caress his skin. Whoever this Watari was, however, had a valid point. The young man in front of her looked as though he'd avoided direct sunlight for years. Not that she minded, as the pale tone of his skin somehow worked for him, as did his lean body type, and large round eyes framed by thick black lashes. He was actually quite good-looking. This was a bit of a shock for Jackson who'd never found his type attractive. She'd always preferred tanned, blond-haired, blue-eyed, athletic types of the Manly-Man persuasion, not pale, dark-haired, sickly looking young men with an affinity for sweets and a general lack of footwear.
The young man rudely ignored her question, standing up and returning to the flipping through the pages of the newspaper he'd had in his hand before being bumped. Biting back an angry comment, Jackson stood as well and continued scanning the shelves for the date for which she had been looking.
Ah! There it was! The December 3rd, 1991 issue of The Washington Post (A/N: Unoriginal, I know, but I don't really care that much about coming up with a new name for a newspaper.) Yes, there it sat waiting for her to pluck it out of its home… which was directly in front of Dark Chocolate's crotch. Jackson frowned, and bent forward intending to snatch the newspaper and run. Instead, as she grabbed the newspaper she brushed past the front of Dark Chocolate's jeans, perturbing him enough in his reading to make him say, "Excuse me…"
Startled, for she hadn't been expecting any comments out of him, Jackson jackknifed into a standing position. In doing so their heads knocked together. Foreheads connected in a painful crack, as well as minor, crooked, and entirely accidental lip to lip contact. Not exact lip to lip contact, for it was unintentional after all, but there was enough to make Jackson blush furiously and recoil into the shelf at her back.
"Oh, my God, I am so sorry," Jackson apologized, looking at anything but the man in front of her.
After a moment of silence out of the young man, Jackson looked up. He touched the tips of his slim fingers to his lips where they'd come into contact with each other, swiping from the inner corner to the plump center as if to detect the traces of her essence left on him. Rubbing the tip of his middle finger and his thumb together for a moment, the young man sent her a curious glance.
His curious glance only made her more embarrassed, if not admitting to herself that his behavior was very strange, especially for one of his age. Then again, she didn't know his exact age; she only knew for sure was that he really seemed to like sweets. Even that was debatable. He could have been buying the candy and cakes for someone else, or for a party. What did she really know about him?
Did she want to know more about him?
She was surprised to find that she did. He was an extremely intriguing man, and perhaps though it was due to her journalism instincts she truthfully wanted to uncover the mystery he presented. She stood up straight, wiping her palms on her jeans before holding her hand out to shake. "I'm, uh, my name is Jackson. But everyone calls me Jackie."
The young man stared at her hand for a moment before taking the tips of her fingers between his own and shaking gently. More curious behavior, she noted mentally. Dark Chocolate eyes met her gaze and said, "Ryuzaki."
The name is Japanese in origin, obviously, she thought once again, outwardly giving him a smile.
Her lips still tingled from the accidental contact, and he was starting to stare at her mouth. Biting her lips uncomfortably, Jackson took a step to the side, away from Ryuzaki's prying gaze. If she didn't know better, she'd think he knew something about investigation himself. More than likely he was just a strange, sheltered boy.
She spun on her heel, walking away from his strange mannerisms, soft lips, and suspicious eyes. Now if only she could stop thinking about those lips, she could get on with her journalism project and stop pondering who he was, where he'd come from, and why he was so weird.
A/N: Faaanks fer readin'. U shud reeview. Yesh.
But, seriously. Thanks for reading. And you should review, too. I would enjoy that very much. I mean, it's not like I'm going to say, "If you don't review, then I'm not updating," because that's just stupid, but reviews do feed a writer's soul and I really don't want to starve.
Thanks again for reading. :3