I finally roll sideways into the aisle and sit up rubbing my elbow dramatically while pretending no one saw any of that.

Which they definitely did.

Including him.

I can feel embarrassment physically. Like heat. Like my soul trying to evacuate through my skin.

Cool. Love that for me.

I push myself back into the chair with what little dignity I still have left and flip open my laptop.

Black screen.

"No no no," I whisper aggressively.

I press the power button again.

Nothing.

I check the charger cord.

Nothing.

I unplug it and plug it back in like somehow the fifth attempt will emotionally inspire it to work.

Still dead.

I look over at him.

He's typing away with headphones on, completely unaware that I'm currently fighting for my life across the aisle from him.

This feels personal now.

I look around for another outlet, but the only open one is on the wall across the walkway and there's no way I'm running my cord across the aisle again after what happened to my laptop last year.

Never again.

I stare at him for a second too long before realizing I am, in fact, just standing there silently staring at a stranger.

Good job.

Very normal behavior.

"Just woman up," I mutter to myself.

I walk over clutching my charger cord like I'm approaching a wild animal that might spook easily.

He glances up before I even say anything and pulls one headphone off.

"Can I help you?"

His voice catches me off guard.

Not deep exactly. Just warm. Calm. A little rough around the edges in a way that makes my chest do a weird, unhelpful flip.

"Oh. Um. Yeah. Hi."

Excellent start, Mia.

I hold up the charger cord awkwardly.

"The outlet only kind of works," I explain. "Well. Half works. Emotionally and physically, honestly."

Why are you like this?

He blinks once.

Then smiles.

Actual dimples.

Fantastic.

I'm going to die alone in this library.

"If your computer's charged already," I continue quickly, "would you maybe mind if we shared the outlet? Not your computer obviously. Just the outlet. Sharing laptops would actually be insane." I sigh. "Plus there's always the outlet right behind you that has two working plugs."

Now you sound rude and like a know it all. Idiot.

Abort mission immediately.

But he just glances down at his screen and unplugs his charger without hesitation.

"Yeah, go for it."

That easy.

No annoyed sigh.

No weird look.

No visible concern that a goblin woman just crawled out from under a table and started talking to him.

I crouch down unplug his charger and plug my charger in.

The charging light flickers on immediately.

"Success!" I whisper-yell, pumping my fist once before I can stop myself.

He laughs quietly.

Not at me exactly.

Hopefully with me.

I'm choosing with me for my own mental health.

"Y'all good then?" he asks as I hand him his charger.

Y'all?

Sir, this is New York.

But I decide not to interrogate him about his suspicious vocabulary choices because I'm currently too distracted by the fact that he's smiling at me.

"Yeah," I say, sitting back down. "Let me know if you need it back."

He gestures behind himself with his thumb. "Apparently there's another outlet back there."

"Oh my God."

His grin widens slightly before he slides his headphone back on.

I stare at him for approximately two full seconds too long before forcing myself to look away.

Focus.

School.

Education.

The reason I'm paying an offensive amount of money to mentally deteriorate in western New York.

I open my notebook and start typing from the outline I made earlier that week, trying very hard to act like I am not acutely aware of the attractive man existing ten feet away from me.

Disney music hums quietly through my earbuds while I work.

Disney music is elite homework music. Familiar enough to fade into the background, cheerful enough to stop me from spiraling into academic despair.

Also sometimes when I'm alone I sing along dramatically.

Not today though.

Today there's a witness.

About an hour passes before I realize I've actually been productive. My paper is halfway to becoming a decent first draft and I've only looked up at him every two to three minutes.

Personal growth.

I stand up to stretch my back and immediately regret it when he suddenly pulls one headphone off again.

"Hey."

Panic.

Immediate panic.

I freeze mid-stretch like a frightened woodland creature.

He points toward the aisle behind him. "I'm gonna run to the bathroom real quick. You mind watching my stuff?"

Me?

Personally?

Chosen for responsibility?

"Yeah," I answer too fast. "Of course."

I attempt a normal smile.

Unfortunately my normal smile looks like I'm being held hostage because I never show teeth.

He nods appreciatively as he walks past me toward the stairs.

He smells unfairly good.

Not aggressive Axe body spray either. Just clean soap and cologne and something warm underneath it.

I wait until he disappears downstairs before immediately fixing the wedgie currently threatening my quality of life and adjusting my bra through my hoodie.

Then his phone starts ringing.

Loudly.

I freeze.

Everyone nearby looks mildly annoyed in that deeply passive aggressive library way.

"Oh my God," I whisper.

The phone keeps ringing.

I glance toward the stairwell.

Still gone.

Okay. Easy. I'll just silence it.

I hurry over to his chair and dig through the pocket of his hoodie hanging off the back.

The ringtone somehow gets louder.

Panic rises.

I finally grab the phone and stab at the screen trying to decline the call.

Instead I accidentally answer it.

"Hello? Jesse?"

I nearly launch the phone directly into the wall.

"FUCK."

I hit buttons wildly until the call disconnects.

At that exact moment, he walks back around the corner.

Naturally.

Perfect.

He slows slightly when he sees me standing there clutching his phone like I've just committed identity theft.

"It kept ringing," I blurt out immediately. "And I tried to silence it but I accidentally answered it and honestly I made everything worse."

There's a pause.

Then he laughs softly through his nose.

Not mocking.

Amused.

"That sounds stressful."

I stare at him.

"You're not mad?"

"Nah."

Who is this man?

I hand him the phone carefully like it's explosive.

"Sorry," I mumble.

"You're good."

Again.

Easy.

Everything with him feels weirdly easy.

He glances down at the phone screen and sighs quietly.

"Do you mind watching my stuff another minute? I should probably call them back."

"Yeah," I say quickly. "I promise not to answer any more calls unless the building catches fire."

That gets a real laugh out of him this time.

A good one.

Then he pauses slightly and looks back at me.

"I'm Jesse, by the way."

"Mia."

He holds his hand out and I shake it before my brain can stop me.

Warm hands.

Firm handshake.

Great.

Now my nervous system is fully committed to whatever this is.

"Well," Jesse says, stepping backward toward the stairs again, "try not to rob me while I'm gone."

"No promises," I say.

He laughs again as he disappears downstairs.

And like an absolute psychopath, I immediately smile to myself the second he's out of sight.