charlie's point of view:

"Would you like to, I don't know, maybe have like dinner or something? With me, I mean..."

Holy shit.

Several possible scenarios played out in my mind. One – we could go out, grab some dinner and actually enjoy it. Two – we would be surrounded by strangers, all judging me, judging us. The actual act of eating would also be an obstacle. Feeling everyone's eyes burn into my neck might cause me to panic. Nothing good could come out of it. Three – both the previous scenarios could happen, all at the same time. You see, I am the type of person who never only feels one thing at a time. If I'm happy, I'm also screaming for help on the inside. If I'm sad, I'm also blaming myself for being upset. If I'm hungry, I'm also telling myself that I'm not. If I'm calm and I'm in fact enjoying the moment, I can feel the panic starting to bubble inside me.

"Oh..." was all that could escape my mouth. My initial instinct was to back away and say no, topped off by slamming the door in his face. I feared that this so-called date would only bring me unease. He was watching me carefully, inspecting my lips as they started to form words but always dropped back into a straight line. "Uhm, oh..." speak, Charlie, "no... sorry."

I saw his face drop as he finally registered my answer. I hadn't even realized the smile shining through his eyes until it disappeared. The fine lines next to his brown eyes disappeared and the glint in them was replaced by a dull stare. To be honest, I hadn't even understood why I'd said no. But the thought that a date could lead to emotional chaos was more convincing than the thought that it would actually work out in my favor.

"Oh... well if you change your mind you know where to find me. Plus, I owe you, don't I? So I guess we'll have to see each other again in order for me to make it up to you," he said, his voice going from a whisper to a somewhat hopeful tone.

"Maybe, although I think what just happened might count as you doing me a favor... Bye," I said and carefully closed the door, not only keeping him out of my house but also my life. For now, at least...

"I think I'm doing us both a favor by not letting you take me out..."

alex's point of view:

Just as the door closed I could hear her faint voice: I think I'm doing us both a favor...

I for one, did not feel like this was in any favor to me. Had this been a favor, she would have said yes – not closed the door on me. As she watched me closely, trying to figure out her answer, I could almost see the cogwheels turning inside her mind. Sharp intake of breath. Mouth opens. No words come out. Again, and again. I had only known her for approximately a day but if there was one thing I was sure of it was that this girl was an overthinker, twisting and turning every thought that crossed her mind until it didn't make sense anymore.

No matter how many times I told myself that it was okay, that there were more girls out there, I couldn't for the life of me believe what I was trying to convince myself. For some reason I felt like this stranger wasn't only a stranger. I wanted her to be more than a stranger, more than an acquaintance. The way she spoke so passionately about the things she loved almost made me love them as well. As her eyes lit up at the mention of her cat, my fear of cats almost disappeared for a second. I'm not implying that this is love, but it is definitely a sort of affection. And affection is not something you can simply put aside, even though you've just been turned away and denied of it. It might sound ridiculous, but at that moment – the moment that she closed the door to her house in my face – was the moment I decided that I wanted to open the door to her.

Later that night, I prepared for the worst. I prepared for the ocean to once again drown me, for the angry mob to once again stare at me, for the man to hunt me. But as my eyes closed and sleep took over my restless body, the only thing my mind could paint a picture of was her. Her blonde hair and how she constantly tucked it behind her ears. Her glasses that slipped down her straight nose. Her blue eyes and how they had no sparkle yet they were far from dull. What some would describe as boring my mind managed to depict as something truly magnificent. She was like a poem. I had only read it once, but I saw that there was definite beauty there, an elegance that I had yet to truly uncover. To the eyes of someone not used to poetry, she was nothing special, she was only words on a piece of paper, a chaotic combination of phrases that you could not decipher. But to eyes that were familiar with poetry, the words were not only words; they were stories. And when you looked upon her again, tried to read between the lines, you might just understand. I wanted to understand.

* * *

As I sipped my morning coffee I looked out the window. I looked past the rooftops and scanned the city horizon that was peeking through beyond them. So, this is Reading. I squinted my eyes harder at the buildings, as if somehow, they would tell me something about themselves. I had only now realized that I knew absolutely nothing about Reading. Well besides the festival, that is. That one I was quite familiar with. But he city itself was a mystery.

After I finished my coffee I grabbed my coat and headed out. I'd decided that if this was now what I'd call home I had to get to know it better. Home is a concept quite similar to friend. If you don't know your friend, it is simply a person in your life, an acquaintance.  If you don't know your home, it is simply a building or a city. Therefore, knowing your home is just as important as knowing your friends.

I don't know why I'd moved here; but I do know why I moved away. L.A. had been nice for a while, but as the people around me showed their true colors as did the city. What appeared to be a radiant city, built up on baby blues and magenta, filled with life, slowly faded away. The brightly colored buildings all had dark alleys behind them. The equally luminous people were simply painted dolls. As the color chipped away from their heavily painted faces and personas you could see the dull greys hiding behind. It was all fake, everything was only a façade. They were all as insignificant as the ash that was now starting to form at the tip of my cigarette. By every drag I took, the true colors started to show. With a simple tap of the finger it fell to the ground and dissolved, washing away with every other insignificant thing in this world. WhenI'd gotten my fun out of the cigarette, I threw it away. Just like when they'd hadtheir fun with me, they threw me away. 

I passed countless buildings as I slowly walked through the foreign city. My eyes scanned the windows next to me, watching the people behind them. Mothers feeding their children with cookies in the cafés. Lovers looking into each other's eyes, gripping tight onto their hands. A girl staring intently at her book, pushing her glasses up her nose.

Wait.

I stopped dead in my tracks and turned to my left. Behind the window sat the girl I didn't know my eyes were searching for. Library, read the print across the glass. Would it be weird if I went in? Should I just pretend that I hadn't seen her? But I had seen her. I looked at her again. She was practically buried in a mountain of books. The theory behind modern poetry. English literature – an introduction. Shakespeare. It looked as if she was deep in studies. Her leg was bouncing up and down under the table. That's when it struck me. Brilliant!

I walked back to the café I'd just passed and went inside. I ordered one coffee and one tea, as well as two bagels – one with salami and one vegetarian. Seeing as it was currently around 1 pm, I came to the conclusion that there was a chance she might me hungry. Although I didn't know whether she was a tea person or a coffee person, neither did I know if she was vegetarian – so I decided to play it safe and get all of the options.

Before I opened the door to the library I had to take a deep breath to calm myself. Play it cool, you're just bringing a snack. It's no big deal. It's just friendly. She won't mind. Will she? She probably will. Fuck... My mind was running amuck. Never in my life as an artist had I felt this nervous. I'd played my heart out in front of thousands of people without any problems, but bringing brunch to a girl was what seemed to break me. But as I stepped onto the stage, I always knew what to expect. The fans would love it, they would cheer and sing along. Stepping into the library, onto her stage, was completely different. I'd never done it before, so how could I possibly know what to expect.

After gripping the handle for what seemed like forever, the door opened in front of me. I was shocked at the sudden movement and took a step back. A group of girls came filing out, bookbags in hand. One of them looked up at me and gasped slightly. She pulled at her friend's sleeve and whispered something in her ear. Her friend looked at me and then back at her friend, and then they both broke out in a fit of giggles. I held the door open for them as they struggled with not only their bookbags but now also the fact that I, Alex fucking Turner, was there. It annoyed me, sometimes, being Alex Turner. Of course I was flattered as well. I shot them a smile before I finally went in. I heard how the giggles turned into squeals as the door closed behind me.

I headed straight towards the table in the corner, where she was sat, leaning over her books. She was facing my way but she didn't see me coming. I put down the drinks and the bag on the table and took a seat opposite her. The slight movement caused her to snap her hear up in chock. Her face was showing confusion – both a happy confusion as well as a worried kind.

"Tea or coffee?" I asked as I pointed at the paper cups.

"Alex?" It was more of a question rather than a greeting.

"Well sure, you can have me as well, but would you like tea or coffee with that?" I don't know why, but I felt a sudden wave of confidence. I wanted to get a reaction out of her.

"Coffee, thank you," she laughed nervously, grabbing the coffee cup as I handed it to her

"Are you a vegetarian?"

"Yes, why? Is there meat in the coffee, or what?" she laughed slightly.

"No, but there is meat in this bagel," I said pointing to one of the bagels, "but not in this one."

"Thank you," sheaccepted the bagel and immediately bit into it. "Oh my god, this is amazing!" 

She rolled her eyes and moaned out of enjoyment. An action that both made me think she looked extremely sexy, but that also made me think she was adorable. Adorably sexy, without even knowing it.

"Glad to be of help," I said as I bit into my bagel. "So, what are you studying?"

"Well..." she laughed nervously, a red hue coloring her cheeks. "I'm not really studying, per say. I just enjoy learning about different things." Sheput the bagel down and wiped her hands on her jeans. 

"So you're sat alone in a library on a Saturday evening, reading about the-" I read the cover of the book she'd put down when I'd sat down –"'Different uses of symbolism in creative writing' for fun?"

"Yes... That's really weird, isn't it?" she groaned and hid her face in her hands.

"No, it's not weird, it's actually quite fascinating. I'm a big fan of poetry and writing myself," I said and smiled at her embarrassed face. I grabbed her hands and slowly pried them off her face, and smiled once again, but this time she saw it. I guided her hands down to the table and kept mine on top of them. They were cold as ice, sending shivers up my arm. I squeezed her hand a bit, trying to make the heat that was bubbling inside me somehow transfer over to her. She was as stiff as a stick, not showing any signs that she was actually understanding that I was holding her. Nothing, no emotion. Her glasses were nearing the tip of her nose. Before she could push them up I brought my hand to her face and carefully pushed them up. This made her flinch slightly.

"Oh, right," she pulled back and cleared her throat. "Well thanks for the coffee but I should probably get back to my reading."

"Alright," I said, and leaned back into my seat.

Silence.

She opened her book again and continued reading. Minutes passed by as her eyes flickered between me and the page of her book. A few minutes later, she still hadn't turned the page.

"Sorry, but are you just going to sit there? You're making me nervous..." she said, whispering the last part.

"Yeah, if you don't mind. I don't have anything else to do anyway. And, I don't know about you, but I enjoy your company." I placed my elbows onto the table and rested my chin in my hands, shortening the distance between us.

"Of course!" she answered quickly, but immediately looked as if she regretted it. "I mean, sure... But are you really just going to sit there?"

"I guess I could read something, seeing as I am in fact in a library," I said, looking around the room. "What do you recommend?"

She bit her lip and furrowed her brows, looking deep in thought. Her mouth opened, sharp intake of breath, then closed again. I could almost hear her telling herself "no, not that one". After a few more attempt of recommending something she finally settled on a thought and let it escape.

"Animal Farm. Classic. Have you read it?" she asked.

"No," I said. Lie. I had in fact read it, but the look of excitement and relief she had as she finally settled on a book was not something I wanted to ruin.

She got up and walked further into the library. My eyes followed her backside as she walked away, hips swaying. Quite beautifully, may I add. Her hair was flowing to the same rhythm as her arse. I snapped back to reality and released a breath I didn't realize I was holding. Dammit. That girl.

I looked at the table in front of me and scanned the things that were scattered across it. Books, notebooks, pens, sticky notes, half eaten bagel... Two different coffee cups, not including the one I'd brought her, were stashed away in a plastic bag. Her backpack was also on the table, its contents spilling out. Sweater, chewing gum, old receipts, pill bottles...

Wait. Pill bottles. Plural. As in more than one bottle containing several different colored pills. I leaned over the table, trying to read the label of one of them.

"Here you go!" she dropped the book in front of me. I jumped back quickly, trying to not look suspicious. I didn't mean to snoop, really...

"Thanks," I said, returning the smile I now realized was plastered onto her face.

Hours passed as we sat there, silently reading, occasionally making small talk. Although neither of us turned that many pages. The number of stolen glances at each other's faces were more than the number of the page I was on. Rather than reading my book I was trying to read her. I noticed how her eyes were slightly hooded and her lips were chapped. The nails on her left hand were bitten and she had scratch marks on her wrist. I assumed they were from her cat but they didn't look like they were made by an animal. Her leg was constantly bouncing up and down and her hand shook slightly as she turned the page of her book.

I guess that's what happens to you when you live off of pills and coffee. But why? Why the pills?