Chapter 2: Meeting Pretty Boy

June 17th
Town Library

I opened the heavy oak door to the library and stepped inside, taking in a deep breath. The scent of books, faded ink and worn carpeted floors greeted my nose; a welcome scent. I made my way towards the back of the library where the fantasy and young adult fiction books were located, grabbing a small book basket along the way so I could carry all of the books I was planing on getting.

As I passed the magazine section of the library, I spotted a small group of about five to eight people around my age. They were mostly boys, with the exception of perhaps a girlfriend or two among them, and were all chatting a bit louder than was necessary with how close they were in proximity to each other and how they were currently in a library. Didn't they know that libraries weren't made for talking any louder than quiet murmurs or whispers?

I suppose they had noticed me, for they had quieted rather noticeably as I entered their field of vision. Were they looking at me, watching me? It was entirely possible. I wasn't exactly invisible, not as much as I wanted to be most of the time. I glanced over as I grew closer to their table. About two or three of them were looking at me, and I quickly averted my eyes and moved hastily on.

Once I got to the young adult/fantasy section, I breathed a sigh of relief. I hadn't recognized any of those teens, but all the better. I didn't want to run into anyone from school, especially not Chris Hooper or any of his friends. They were jerks; they called me "nicknames" and such (Scarface was their favorite).

Turning my thoughts away from school and bullies, I picked up the first book that caught my eye. "The Chaos of Stars," it read. I had already read it, but I put it in my basket anyways. It was one of my favorites. The next book I picked up was Paper Towns by John Green, and I took out my phone, opened Notes, and created a new note with the title of "Books To Read Later," then entered the title and author of the book in a bulleted list form. I found another book and repeated the process: either the book was put into the basket, recorded on my phone, or, if I was uninterested, returned to its proper place on the shelf.

After about 15 minutes of this I stood and did a 180, intending to look at the other shelf, only to find that I wasn't alone. There was someone else in the narrow aisle about five feet away from me to my left.

It was a guy around my age—and oh hot damn was he attractive. He had dark tan skin, inky black hair that curled slightly at the ends, a jawline that could cut diamonds, and captivating sapphire blue eyes. He smiled, warm and charming, as I faced him. Then for a second his smile faltered, his widening eyes showing only blatant surprise, his mouth beginning to gape ever-so-slightly. And then I remembered—I realized—the reason for his reaction; my scar. Even so, it didn't last long, and the look on his face disappeared a split second later as he regained his composure, running his hand through his hair.

"If I were to ask you out on a date," he asked, "would your answer be the same as the answer to this question?"

I raised an eyebrow. Flirty? Check. Attractive and cocky? Double check. I disliked him already.

*Don't go starting any paradoxes, dude.* I signed. *Those aren't safe.*

"Ah..." He said, confused and with less confidence. "W-was...was that a yes?"

Alright, so he didn't know sign language. Typical. So I had to resort to the standard body movements that everyone was familiar with—nod, shrug, thumbs up/down, and so on. For this particular question, I shrugged in response.

"Thanks for the clarification..." He muttered quietly, though I still (just barely) caught it due to my great sense of hearing. "Knew I should've gone with the library card one..."

Riiiight, well if that's all... I turned my gaze to the bookshelf and selected one of the titles. But he wasn't through just yet.

"So would that be a 'yes' for going on a date, or...?"

Persistent? Check. Five minutes in and he'd already hit four of my top five "non-decent male" no-no's list.

I turned my head to look at him and then shook my head, and went back to looking at the book I selected.

He leaned against the bookshelf. "Any chance of...redemption? Reconsideration?"

Oh hey, you used big words! Congratulations! I thought sarcastically. Besides, if you're acting like that, then you've got absolutely no chance, buddy.

I glanced at him. He was looking at me with puppy eyes that could almost rival Sarah's (and hers were pretty strong). Almost being the keyword.

Man, you must be pretty desperate if you're pulling that trick on me.

I sighed, giving up. I put the book back where I got it and picked up my book basket, then headed for the front of the library to check out, leaving pretty boy behind. I already had about 5 to 8 books anyways, so I was done here. I avoided going past the magazine section in case those teens were still there and got through check-out without any problems or sudden attractive guys popping up out of nowhere and flirting with me. It wasn't until I had exited the library and began walking down the street that that particular problem arose again.

"Hey, I, uh, I didn't get your name." Pretty boy said, jogging to keep up with me.

With good reason! I thought. And now you're following me.

I ignored him, hoping that he'd just go away.

"O~k," he said after I didn't answer (like I could in the first place), "well...I'm Alex, by the way."

Great. That was just what I wanted for Christmas. Thank you ever so much for your name, pretty boy, now leave me alone.

Yeah, I get a bit saucy when I'm annoyed. And pretty boy here was really getting in my nerves. Could he really not tell that I just wasn't interested?

Consent, man. Consent is key. And this is not consent! I am unwilling! So stop!

If only I could ask him to stop following me and to leave me alone... If only I could actually speak.

"Hey, you free on Friday?" He asked as we stopped as the "Do Not Walk" sign blinked at us on the opposite side of the road.

I eyed him out of the corner of my eye, still not responding.

"Saturday?" He prodded.

I clutched my books tighter to my body, wishing desperately for the light to turn green, for him to just go away. Sadly, only one of those wishes came true—and it wasn't the latter.

I walked across the street, my grip tightening to the point of my knuckles becoming white with tension. Pretty boy unwaveringly matched my step with even strides, clearly being blind enough to not see how uncomfortable I was. If this was how he treated all the girls he pursued, then he's gonna have a real hard time finding someone who's gonna stay with him. If only he hadn't opened his big fat mouth, then maybe I would've liked him better.

"What about Sunday?" He continued.

I casually handed him a glare that clearly read "Listen Bub, either you leave me alone, or I'll sock you in the face." There must've been something wrong with his communicator.

"Is that a yes?" He asked, oblivious to my warning glare.

I frowned and huffed, then started walking faster.

"Aw, c'mon, please?" He had to jog again to catch up. "It-it's for a dare, so please—?"

And that was the last straw. Whatever you do, do not tell a girl you asked her out on a dare. EVER. You will most likely get punched. Just like pretty boy did.

So yes, I punched him square in the face. It landed with a satisfying smack! sound. And then I did the only thing that made sense—I ran. When I got to the cross section, I turned right, somehow knowing that he wouldn't follow me. Even so, I took another route home, just in case.

Once I reached the safely of my neighborhood I greeted Lola, the soft-furred calico stray who always hangs around here and who was currently lounging on someone's lawn, and continued homeward.

As soon as I got inside I went straight to the kitchen and made myself some hot cocoa, then went upstairs to my room. (Yeah, I drink hot chocolate in the summer. So what? It's a free country. 'Murcia for the win. And now I'm just embarrassing myself, so shut up me.)

On my way there I briefly stopped at Sarah's closed bedroom door and told her via morse code with my foot that I was back from the library and that I was going to do my ritual, so I kindly asked to not disturb the sacrifice. She responded with a quick OK using drum sticks, and I resumed my pace to my room.

I'll probably tell her about the whole pretty boy situation later. But for now, I just settled in on my window seat with one of the books I got and my mug of cocoa and began to read.