Page 17 of Library or Lattes?

“Subpar schooling?” I repeated. This guy?! My chest tightened at his patronizing expression. Eyebrows raised, like he couldn’t believe I’d question him.

“Well, yes, precisely. Like I said, not for rocket scientists, right? And this place isn’t exactly full of culture.” He actually snorted.

I’d never been so angry on behalf of my hometown before. The way he looked down on the pie that was made every morning from scratch. The way he was judging and sticking his nose in the air.

Yeah, maybe I got annoyed with Oak Falls sometimes, but I lived here. I was allowed to get annoyed. He was a stranger.

“Well, where are you from that’s so great, then?” I tried and failed to take the emotion out of my voice.

“Well, I’m from Boston. But my mom, she’s from London, so I spend a lot of time there, and that is real culture. I guess if you’ve never left here, you just wouldn’t get it.”

London. It was like the universe was trying to tell me something. Obviously, I wished that none of it connected to this jerk, but part of me wanted to ask him about it. About the Tube, about his favorite neighborhoods. If the coffee shops were as good as I imagined. God, why did the first person I met who knew anything about London have to be so insufferable?

“Wouldn’t get what exactly?” I said through gritted teeth.

He put down the pen he’d just picked up, sighed, and then stared at me. “How different it is over there.”

“Well, obviously it’s different. Every city is different. But what’s stopping me from getting on a plane from JFK to Heathrow and starting a new life over there?” I demanded, widening my eyes and refusing to react to the stupid little smile that crept across his face.

“The clothes, for a start.” Theo glanced at my flannel shirt and let his eyes run down to my jeans. “London is a really fashionable place.”

“I’m not not into fashion,” I retorted, embarrassed, wishing I’d worn something more sophisticated.

Theo held up his hands in surrender. “Listen, I’m not trying to insult you, I’m—”

“Well, for someone who’s not trying, you’re doing a pretty good job.” My cheeks were burning.

“I’m just trying to help you. Give you some home truths that might help you realize your big dream someday.”

Condescension seemed to seep from this boy’s pores.

“Well, I don’t need any help. Especially not from you.” I opened my notebook and stared at the page. But I couldn’t read anything. The words all blurred together as rage and humiliation rose inside me.

His mom was from London. Of course she was. I went to twist my fingers in my hair, but I had that chin-length bob now—there was nothing to grab onto.

Theo was still staring at me. Then he raised his eyebrows again and returned to his book.

Suddenly the wind whistled through the window and we both looked up. We shared a glance, and I couldn’t help it. A shiver raced up my spine and all the way down to my toes. I hated this boy and I hated my body for responding like I didn’t.

I stormed to the nonfiction section and climbed angrily up the rolling ladder, scanning the books for … I didn’t even know. Writing, politics, whatever. And then I saw a book on journalism. At least that would be a good start. I was just reaching for its spine when something knocked into the ladder. It jerked beneath me, my foot slipped, my stomach sank, and I fell. I squeezed my eyes shut, waiting for the impact of the hard library floor. But it didn’t come. Instead, there was an arm under my legs and one under my back. I opened my eyes slowly, wanting to disappear. I was looking right into Theo’s eyes. He was holding me.

For a few seconds we just stared at each other, like he was just as surprised as I was. An image of us kissing flashed in my head. And I knew it wasn’t just me. I could see it in his ocean-blue eyes, too, the way their gaze settled on my lips. And he was still holding me. “Are you trying to kill me?” I demanded.

He put me down, and I pulled down the shirt that was now exposing my stomach.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe don’t climb unstable ladders if you can’t … You could have seriously hurt yourself.”

“So it’s my fault you knocked into me?”

His eyes flashed. “I was coming to … never mind. You’re fine anyway.”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

As I stomped back to my spot, I could smell him on my clothes. A kind of fresh, outdoorsy scent. Like a mountain. Which made absolutely no sense, because the only place I could imagine him outside of this library was some miserable dungeon, where he’d be basking in the darkness.

His stupid woody, earthy scent was strongest on my sleeve, where my arm had rested around his neck. And I couldn’t stop sniffing it.

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