Check Her Out (His Curvy Librarian)

Some of them go right back to what they were doing before, like I expected—they’ll warm up to the reading nook eventually. But plenty of others stick around, and a handful walk away with a book tucked under their arms.

I’m just taking it all in, admiring how quickly Brooklyn has forged a connection with kids who don’t open up easily, when I overhear Ty and Jaxon talking off to the side.

“Seriously, total cougar,” Ty is saying.

I stifle a laugh. Only a teenager would think of Brooklyn like that—she can’t be past twenty-five. I do have to agree with the assessment, though. She’s gorgeous, with a personality to match, and I don’t intervene because who hasn’t had a harmless little crush on a librarian?

But then Jaxon lowers his voice, just loud enough for me to hear him say, “I dare you to go talk to her.”

“And say what?” Ty asks.

“Tell her how hot she is.”

“Guys–” I start to intervene, but Ty’s fast—he’s on the varsity football team at just fifteen, and he slips away from me like a pro.

“Hey, Brooklyn,” he says, “Are you sure you’re not a library book? Because I can’t stop checking you out.”

“Ty,” I snap, using the Stern Adult voice I so rarely employ. “Not cool. Apologize to Miss Hart.”

He looks guiltily at me, then back at Brooklyn. “I’m sorry. I was just having fun.”

“It’s okay,” she says, then hands him a book off the shelf. “You can make it up to me by giving Ender’s Game a try.”

He takes the book and I shoo him and Jaxon away, then turn to Brooklyn. “Sorry about that. I thought I taught them better than that.”

But Brooklyn is stifling a laugh. She smiles wide and says, “I’m used to library puns, it’s fine.”

I give her a nod, an I see what you did there, and then admit, “Well, maybe I’m just a little jealous because I wish I’d tried that pickup line.”

“Oh yeah?” she says, an eyebrow raised. “You want to pick me up?”

“Maybe,” I say. “Would it have worked.”

“No,” she says. “I don’t like lines.” Then she quirks her lips into a smile and adds, “But a sincere invitation might work.”

“Well, in that case, Brooklyn Hart, I would love to take you out on a date,” I say, barely believing that we’ve gone from meeting about half an hour ago to this. I never move this fast—and with the outreach center, I rarely have time to even think of women. But this one is different—I knew that from the moment I saw her. “How about tonight?”

3

Brooklyn

“Tonight?”

My heart sinks, because the Casablanca screening is tonight, and the carnival. And I already promised Cassidy and Nora a girls’ night. On the other hand…

I can’t imagine Cassidy would be particularly happy with me if she found out I turned down a date with a guy like Prescott. She’s been all about fate and soulmates and happy ever after since she found Chuck, and she keeps telling Nora and me that it’ll happen for us too.

When we least expect it.

“Okay,” I tell Prescott. “But only if you don’t mind making it kind of a group thing.”

Prescott arches an eyebrow and I laugh.

“Not like that!” I say, then explain, “I promised my two best friends I’d go to the movies and then the street festival tonight. Do you want to come with us?”

He smiles. “What’s playing?”

“Casablanca.”

His smile widens. “Of all the gin joints in all the world… I love that movie. Used to watch it with my mom whenever I got sick and had to stay home from school.”

“So it’s a date?” I ask, butterflies taking flight in my belly. I’m also hoping that I haven’t misjudged and Cassidy and Nora won’t be mad.

But right now, as Prescott says yes, I can’t bring myself to care. There’s just something about him that makes it impossible to turn down the chance to get a little closer.

We exchange phone numbers and I give him my address, and he says he’ll pick me up at six-thirty. I walk out of the teen outreach center on a few inches of air, and immediately group text my besties. This news won’t even wait until I drive back to the library.

Getting ready for a night out sure feels different without Cassidy as my roommate. We used to make a whole event out of primping and wardrobe selection—her in the vintage dresses she prefers and me in slinky little numbers that hug my curves.

Tonight, I’m flying solo.

I’m standing at the bathroom mirror, applying mascara and pumping dance music into the apartment to try and recreate some of that old energy, but it mostly just feels sad. I’ve never lived alone before, and I’m not a fan. I loved living in the Baker house after my parents died, feeling like a part of a big, loving family. I loved having my best friend around 24/7. I even loved the poorly insulated trailer that I grew up in with my mom and dad, because it felt like home.