***

Cheryl loves books. Doesn't matter what genre, she'll read it.

She just finished 'A Study in Scarlet' late night yesterday and has been on edge ever since, waiting for the moment when the break starts so she could dart to the library.

Sighing in relief, she finally made her way towards the mystery section. The smell of used books drove her high; her fingers brushed through the bindings in quick succession, eyes eagerly scanning for the book she was searching for.

Except, it was nowhere to be seen.

She squinted her eyes at the other shelf sharply, nose scrunched. Is that the book?

It is.

And without wasting another second, she darted towards it. Just a little more, she told herself. Soon you'll be all mine, baby.

(Cheryl often wondered if she was alright in the head. She also often concluded that she probably wasn't.)

Just as her quick-bitten nails touched the surface of the gutted cover, someone else snatched the book, their hands brushing her delicately.

She stared at the now empty space among the books in surprise.

Did someone just...take her book?

Spluttering in disbelief, she whirled towards the intruder to give a piece of her mind. Because what filthy, dirt-indulging scum of a rat decided to take her book and-

And the words got stuck in her throat.

Because her dirt-indulging scum of a rat was a much more good-looking, non-dirt-indulging person who just happened to be the mysterious, blonde boy sitting at the back of her classes. (If he also happened to be her crush of three years, that doesn't matter.)

Christian.

Cheryl could die, honestly.

She used to wax poetry about his eyes. Blue like the azure sky that holds millions of stars that could never shine as bright as his smile. He smelled as fresh as the petrichor of the morning shower and dew drops on top of bluebells. Hair like a sandy beach in the sunset, the colors of the fading sun casting shadows over the washed-up shore.

She should probably tone down her reading a little.

Also, did their hands touch?

(They did. They absolutely did.)

(Cheryl is going to die.)

(She is also never washing her hands again.)

"Hey, Cheryl," said Christian, lips curving into an easy smile. She let out a whimper as an acknowledgment. "I know you were reaching for this book. But I've been waiting for weeks and I need this today. Do you mind if I take this today? I'll give it to you tomorrow, I promise."

Cheryl let out a breath. "Of course. It's fine."

What?

His face brightened up like a thousand suns and withdrew the book. "Thanks, love. See you then."

Thanks, love. See you then.

Thanks. Love.

Love.

"Bye." She managed to squeak out, dropping down on the floor after Christian disappeared, a hand clutching her heart that was beating fast as if a dog was chasing her.

Be still, heart. Be still.

***