Sarah’s alone at the front desk.
My instinct is to run back to the car, but she looks up and waves. I almost have to do a double take. Is she really waving at me? I guess going to the same cooking class makes us friends now, or at least classmates that say hi.
I reluctantly walk over to her. After all, it’s not her fault if Andy likes her.
“Hey,” I say when I reach the desk. “Is Andy around?”
“No, I haven’t seen him,” she starts to say. “He should be here soon to start his shift. Want me to text him?”
“No, that’s okay!” I say quickly. “I was just wondering. I’m going to browse a little. Did you have fun at the class?” I ask. Hopefully, I can stomach the answer.
“Yes! It was so much fun. But Andy can make anything fun, ya know?”
“Yeah, I do,” I say. That’s what I came here to tell him, but you said it better than me. “It looked like you two were really hitting it off.”
I cringe at that last part. It came off way more jealous than I intended. But Sarah doesn’t seem to notice.
“Yeah, I’m so glad he invited me.”
You can’t be mad, Ella, I think. You could’ve invited him and you didn’t.
“Did you have fun?” she asks me now. “Oh, and did you guys end up winning? You put our chocolate balls to shame.”
Her voice is genuine. It makes me wonder why.
“Sarah, can I ask you why you’re nice to me? My friends are such jerks to you.”
She shrugs. “You’re not.”
“Yeah, but…I should make them stop.”
She looks at me thoughtfully. “People change, but you can’t change people.”
I nod like I understand, but really, I don’t understand how Sarah can be so forgiving.
“But…” I trail off.
“I get it—really. I’ve had friends like Carmen. Maybe not quite so…intense,” she says, making me laugh. “But once I let them go, I found that being myself was never so easy.”
“Really? I can’t imagine you struggling with that.”
I think back to the paper heart I wrote to her. How I love the way she dresses with her own style, not the typical ensemble you’d see on Instagram. How she answers all the questions in English because she loves books and she doesn’t care if people think she’s a know-it-all. It really is hard to believe there was a time when she wasn’t like that.
“I mean, that was freshman year. Plenty of confidence boosting had to happen. Oh, and I discovered Mary Oliver—she got me through some stuff. You should check her out sometime.”
“ ‘Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?’ ” I say, quoting one of her poems. It’s one of my favorite quotes; I have it in a frame above the desk in my bedroom. I’ve also written it in my notebook more than I’d like to admit.
She smiles. “See? You don’t need my advice when you have Mary.”
“Well, thank you anyway. Really.”
“Don’t mention it,” she says, turning to the computer on her desk. I spin around, heading toward the romance section of the library. I can’t help but feel like I should just leave.
If Sarah were mean to me, I could think that Andy deserves better. But if she’s actually nice and can talk books with him and the two of them have fun together, then…
But I don’t get to finish my thought, because in walks Andy. Through the space in the bookshelves I can see him saunter over to the front desk. I brace myself for Andy to do something flirty with Sarah. Maybe hug her when he sees her, or something worse. But when he reaches her, she says something to him and he spins around in my direction. It’s not like I’m trying to hide, but I instinctively duck lower so he can’t see me behind the shelf. I stand there crouched all frozen, hoping he didn’t see me watching them. How embarrassing would that be?
But moments later I hear a voice.
“Ella?”
It’s Andy. Now, this is more than embarrassing. I want to unlock my legs and look at him like a normal human but they seem to have stopped working. I grab a random book in front of me.
“Oh, here it is!” I say, before I will my legs to let me stand. When I turn to Andy, he has a big stupid grin on his face.
“Why were you looking for Losing It in Paris?”
“I’ve heard great things,” I say, totally lying.
“Oh, interesting. I wonder how it compares to Fifty Shades of Grey.”
“Why do you wonder that…,” I start, but I look down at the cover. This book is clearly erotica. And instantly, I turn fifty shades of red.
“Sarah said you were looking for me,” Andy says.
“Mm,” I barely get out. “Not to help me find this, of course. I actually think I got the title wrong,” I add, placing the book back on the shelf. God, why am I so nervous? This is just Andy. The boy who can be utterly flirtatious and funny. Not to mention understanding. I just picked up an erotica book and he didn’t laugh in my face.
Andy grins now, with his smile that gets me every time. “Well, did you need help with something else?”
I feel like melting, but luckily, I think quickly and reach into my back pocket to pull out the paper heart, then hand it to him.
“You’re giving this to me because…?” he says before reading it.
“What does it say, Sherlock? I was hoping we could do this next one together.”
He pauses. After a couple of seconds, he hands it back.
“I can’t do that,” he says.
“Can’t or won’t?” I say. I’m surprised I can say anything at all. My heart feels like it has shattered into a million pieces.
“Can’t and won’t. First of all, I’m working. Second of all, I want you to find what you’re looking for, but…this isn’t my mystery to solve.”
His words make me want to crawl underneath the bookshelf. Why did I come here?
Andy’s right. This isn’t his mystery to solve, but I’m the one standing here asking him. Since he doesn’t want to help me, he clearly doesn’t want to be with me either. This stings like a paper cut.
But I’m not about to let him see that I care. I shrug like his answer is no big deal and plaster a fake smile on my face. “Oh, that’s okay. I should’ve known you can’t leave work. I’ll get out of your way.”