It’s not that you were shy or timid or any of those other words people might use to describe. You just... didn’t see the point in socializing with all the brutes your age.

You didn’t mix well with the girls, any interaction you had with the boys seemed to result in someone (them) nearly dying and those in between obviously weren’t vocal about it because this is high school.

So yeah. You sticked to yourself. Yourself and your books. Where boys had common sense and girls could save the world. You liked being on your own with books and work.

It was nice spending breaks in the library. You could put your earphones in and put the world away. Your time to catch up on work or disappear into a world of your own.

At least you could if it weren’t the new kid that couldn’t seem to find the book he wanted and also couldn’t seem to figure out how to put books back where he found them. You wanted to ignore him. You really really did.

But then he had to go and put a book back in a shelf two shelves away from where he found it and well, that wouldn’t stand. So you reluctantly got up and walked over to him.

He was beautiful. Not hot in the way most of the boys high on protein powder and the dreams of their fathers were. But beautiful.

With his high cheekbones and startling eyes and hair that seemed to frame his face so perfectly. He was like a work of art.

A work of art that didn’t know how to back books away correctly.

“If you don’t know where the book goes,” you said, startling him, “then you put it in the trolley at the front of the library.”

He jumped, his cheeks blushing at being caught, “Sorry,” he muttered, “my old school didn’t have a library so I didn’t know.”

Well now you felt like a .

You didn’t want to appear too nice. You didn’t need this guy going around and spreading the rumor that you actaully have feelings.

“Well now you know,” you said

You went to turn away but he called you back. He looked nervous, shy.

“Sorry,” he said, not meeting your eye, “but I’m looking for a book on the Russian Revolution? Maybe you can help?”

Now that was a strange request. Firstly because people don’t ask you things. Secondly because no kid in this damn school wants to know more on the Russian revolution.

He must have seen the look you gave him because he followed the sentence with, “I’m trying to catch up on the work. We didn’t do much learning at my old school.”

There you go again, making yourself look like a .

You sighed. As much as you hated people, he seemed nice and genuine and very very cute, “You’re in the wrong section. This is classics. Go upstairs, third row to the left. That’s history.”

He shot you a small smile, “thanks.”

“No problem sunshine.”