You were curled up in a large, leather seat in your local library. It was a quiet Sunday afternoon, the perfect day to dig into a classic book you had read over and over before. The sun was at just the right angle to go straight threw the big window behind you and kept your back warm. The gentle whispers of the staff and the few fellow library-goers were lapping at your ear.

But nothing could disrupt you from diving into your book. You thumbed through the pages, eating up chapter after chapter. Even though you had read it so many times, it was like meeting an old friend for coffee; you had many fond memories.

You finally got to the of the plot, which you always came to with great dismay. It was such a sad part and it almost always moved you to tears. Today was no exception. You sniffled once, your throat got tight and then the tears came. You allowed them to course down your cheek because the part was so well-written, it deserved your unfiltered emotions. When your eyes dried out, you scrubbed your face with the back of your hand. You would leave the rest for another day.

You set the book down, happy and sad that the emotional rollercoaster was over. Your eyes swept the library while gathering your things. You almost frowned when you spotted a boy sitting at one of the study tables. His reddish hair fell into his eyes as he bent over a book. He did not look like he belonged here. You hope he wasn’t planning on vandalizing any books. What was he even doing here?

With pursed lips, you threw your bag over your shoulder and tried not to give the new boy a second glance. You knew if you started to think about the boy, you would begin to build up a story in your head, and soon enough you would be in love with this “made up personality” and that was only going to lead to heart break. You weren’t going to allow yourself to go down that path. Better to avoid him as much as possible. You gave back the book you borrowed to the librarian, vowing you’d come back next Sunday to read the rest of it and hopefully your imagination wouldn’t get away from you until then.

The next Sunday was dreary, complete opposite of the past one. You were disgruntled with the fact you had to dig out your rubber boots and umbrella and put up with the cold. But, the moment you put your umbrella away and banged the water off of your boots, you knew you had made the right decision.

You found the book you had been reading and took it to your favorite spot. You opened it and inhaled the best smell in the world: an old book. You heard a rustling and found a piece of paper on the floor. It must have fallen out of the book. You picked it up and opened it. You read:

Dear Girl that sits in the corner,
I was at the library the other day and found you sitting
in a chair crying. I felt sad and wanted to comfort you
but realized that you were crying because of what you were reading.
That intrigued me, because, I read
but nothing has ever moved me to tears.
I just wanted to let you know, because of you,
I’ll be reading this book too.
Does this make you happy?
From,
The boy admiring you from afar

You had to reread the note many times, not sure if you understood it the way it was written. Someone was admiring you for crying about a book? That seemed very unlikely. You knew boys; they were crass and rude. They didn’t think about books, or girls and their feelings. This had to be a practical joke. You refused to consider writing something back. That was absolutely ludicrous.

You settled back into the world of your book and enjoyed yourself immensely. Yesterday had been a cry-fest, but today was about smiles. Since the plot turned bad, it could only go up from there. You had a warm feeling inside from reading the ending; it was a happy ending. You clutched the book to your chest and smiled widely. The book never let you down. It was always the same: excitement for what was to come, sadness for the middle and happiness at the end because it all came together. No surprises. No uncalled plot twist that made you angry with the author. Simple sameness.

You sighed and got up to put the book away. But something red caught your eye. You held back a low growl in your throat. It was that boy again! You didn’t know why, but him being here angered you. He obviously wasn't here to bother you, so it shouldn’t really affect you. You just hated when someone disrupted your aura. You could usually read and the real world would melt away. But you hated the niggling in your back that an attractive boy was in the same room as you. It distracted you. You were a girl after all. With eyes forward, you left the library again.

The next Sunday, you were cursing your inquisitiveness. You looked around the main entrance immediately to see if the boy with the red hair was there. He wasn’t. You were part disappointed and part satisfied. No one could ruin this perfect retreat for you. You knew which book you were reading next. This one was full of action and intrigue. You lived out various lives in books that you could never fathom in real life. You were a simple girl. You had good grades. You were an obedient daughter. But with books, you could be a sassy, out-spoken female pirate, a beautiful and innocent princess or even the focus of a perfect boy. You always preferred literary males to the real ones.

You sat down but just couldn’t get into the book. Which was very odd. You sighed and knew what your problem was. The letter from last Sunday. What if your ‘admirer’ had wrote you another note? No! You shook your head. See, this boy was already manipulating you. You stayed glued in your seat, pushing yourself to read your book. You shifted from one side of the chair to the other. You tapped your foot. You tried reading with your arms up. Nothing worked. You were going to have to check that book to see if there was another note.

You rushed to the aisle that the book was kept at, running your hands along the spines of its shelf-mates. You stopped at your favorite book and tapped it. You knew you shouldn’t be doing this. But your brain just wouldn’t give you a rest. You were just going to check for the note, and when it wasn’t there, you were going to put the book back and forget it even happened. You took the book from its home and opened the book, making the hard cover crack. There was no note. You sighed. That was a relief.

You went to put it back, but something fell out. You shakingly picked up the piece of paper from the floor. He had written you another note:

Dear Smiling Bookworm,
I hope you’re getting my notes.
I read the rest of this book.
I almost didn’t… it seemed very heart-breaking.
I’m glad I did though.
The ending made my heart soar.
But not as much as your smile did.
I have a bad feeling though
Do you find this weird?
Should I stop writing you these letters?
From,
Your, uncertain about a few things, maybe, sorta, kinda love interest?

You gulped. This boy was… he was… was he really a boy? He seemed so unsure and hesitant. Had he really read this entire book just because of you? You made a spur of the moment decision. You flipped the paper and wrote a note back to him. He at least deserved that much.

Dear Unknown Boy,
I’m glad you liked the book. It’s one of my favorites.
I do find this note writing a bit weird.
But I’ll tell you the truth:
I was looking forward to your next note
I’ll leave the title and author’s name of the next book
Will you read it with me?
From,
Your personal book-recommender

You tucked the note back in the book, put the book back in its place and ran to your seat. Your heart was beating a million miles per minute. Didn’t you just convince yourself this was a bad idea? You shouldn’t have written back. He probably wouldn’t see it anyways. He was done with the book, he had said.  Still, a tiny part of you hoped he would check the book to see if you had taken the note and then he would find your note. Would he read the next book? More importantly, would he write back to you again?

Your week dragged by, as you waited for Sunday to come. You practically ripped open the library doors to gain access. A thousand questions were buzzing through your head right now: did he read your note? Was he happy you wrote back? Was he reading the same book as you? What if he was at the library right now?

You were so absorbed in your mental conversation that you almost banged into someone. Your red flats stubbed onto sneakers and you slowly followed the line of this person’s body. “Ah, I’m so sorry—”

You stopped talking when you realized you had almost ran over the red haired boy that had been frequenting the library a lot. His mouth made a small O and his eyes widened slightly. You avoided his gaze. You weren’t interested in this guy, remember? You had an admirer to talk to.

“No, it was my fault. I was in another world,” The red haired boy insisted.

That struck you as odd… a instantly apologetic male? This made you look back to his face to see if he was mocking you. Instead you were blinded by the kindest and sincere smile you had ever seen. “Okay,” was all you could manage. You walked away slowly; your thoughts seemed to trail behind you. So red-haired boy was nice.

THE NOTE. You walked as fast as humanly possible to the shelf that housed the new book you were reading. You wavered from taking the book. What if he didn’t write back? You knew you were already infatuated with this idea of a secret admirer. You had never been confessed to before, so this was all so new to you. You whipped the book off the shelf and shook it like it offended you. And lo and behold, a piece of paper slowly floated down to the floor. You snatched it up like it needed saving and found your favorite seat. You clutched that piece of paper to your chest like it was your lifeline. Your curiosity was killing you, so you read it:

Dear Angelic Student,
I’m sorry if my writing seems a bit shaky
I’m just surprised you wrote back
Actually, I’m ecstatic that you wrote back to me
The new book you picked is keeping me up at night
I feel like I’m closer to you now that we’re reading the same book
Do you try to look for me, to see who your admirer is?
I don’t know if I’m brave enough to talk to you yet
Would you even like to meet face to face?
From,
Your interested but scared devotee

You traced the writing with you finger like it was a familiar photo of a friend. This boy, he had a major crush on you. He liked you so much, that he couldn’t hold it in, but he was not bold enough to tell you in person. It made you wonder why kind of person he was. At this point, it didn’t matter what he looked like. You just wanted to get to know him better now. He was heartfelt person you had met in this world so far. You knew it was time.

Dear Lovely Boy,
How could I not write back?
I find myself wanting to get to know you.
We should talk about the book we’re reading.
And maybe other books we’ll read in the future.
I want to meet.
From,
Your new not-so-secret admirer

You put the note back in the book. You weren’t going to read it today. You were going to hold off until the two of you could read together. You pictured sitting at the corner of the library, heads bent together, exchanging smiles as the two of you pointed out your favorite parts. You wanted that future so badly that you went out of your comfort zone. You now craved that companionship.

Sunday came faster than you thought possible. You immersed yourself in your school work, hung out with your friends, went to an event with you family; anything to distract yourself from that fated day. You dressed up as cutely as possible. You knew he already knew what you looked like, but you wanted to make an effort for your first official introduction.

You entered the library, your skirts swishing along with you. You let your eager smile stay on your face. You scanned the library for a new person. You obviously didn’t know what he looked like, but you thought maybe he’d be daring enough to show up today. It was your utmost hope that he did. You didn’t see anyone new, so you went to the book that would tell you your future.

This time the note was sticking out of the book, like he was taking one step further to being with you. You pulled the note easily from its confine and opened it. You expected a long-winded note but were disappointed to find only one word on the page. That disappointment turned into butterflies in your stomach when you read the word:

Okay

You walked to your normal seat and pulled up a chair next to it. You waited patiently. You were going to go nice and slow with this boy. You promised yourself you weren’t going to tackle him the moment he showed his face. You really just wanted to give him a hug.

“Excuse me,” A familiar and polite voice brought you back to reality.

You smiled to yourself and looked up to meet eyes with… red-haired boy?! “Ah, I’m waiting for someone,” You promptly told him. You worried instantly. What if your admirer saw you with another boy? What if he thought you were stringing him along?

“I’m sure you’re very busy, but I just had one question,” This boy looked hopefully into your eyes. You found you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

“Quickly, then. I don’t want to miss meeting with them,” You curtly told him.

The guy scratched the back of his head, lifting the plaid fedora he was wearing today. Was it just you, or did it seem like he looked extra cute today? No! Those treacherous thoughts need to disappear. You only had eyes for you admirer. “You see… the person you’re waiting for… I don’t know how to put this…” The boy laughed awkwardly and slowly met your inquiring gaze, his eyes were sparkling.

His words slowly dawned on you, “Wait, are you saying—” You were sure your eyes encompassed your entire face. “Are you my secret admirer?!”

With a small smile, your revealed admirer confirmed your suspicions. “Sorry it took me so long to talk to you. I was just afraid you’d be disappointed.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. The one boy you had been avoiding/crushing on from afar was your admirer who had been crushing on you from afar. The irony was just too much.

“___________?” Your admirer asked, sounding unsure.

“How do you know my name?”

“I asked the librarian. I hope you don’t mind. I just wanted to find out more about you.”

You breathed in and out calmly. This was it. Red-haired boy was your admirer. You peeked up through your eyelashes. It’s not like you couldn’t ask for anyone better. His entire aura just exuded niceness and you found yourself already in love with his smile.

You stood up, offering your hand, “Well, it’s only fair that I should know your name as well.”

Your admirer looked at your hand and then your face and the smile that bloomed was not like anything you had ever seen. It blew you away with its purity and happiness. He took your hand, but instead of shaking it, used it to pull you to his body. He enveloped you in a hug and you felt yourself smiling like you had just received the best present in your life. “It’s Suho,” he whispered in your ear.

You pulled back from the hug, pushed a strand of hair behind your ear said his name out loud. “Suho.” You smiled secretly to yourself. “Sounds like a main character from a book I should be reading.”

“That reminds me!” Suho brought up. He pulled at his book bag, and brought out a book. “I bought two. I thought maybe, we could, read together?” Suho looked at you expectantly.

You grabbed Suho’s hand, book and all, and tugged him towards the corner you had been dreaming out. “That sounds perfect.”