AllFreeNovel
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It’s not just his mouth showing joy, and it’s not just mine. It’s ours combined, feeding off of each other to create that unidentifiable yet indescribable connection. It’s a smile for both of us, made by both of us.
My happiness falters when the weight of our boundary creeps slyly between us. He’s sitting less than three feet away, and I miss him. I miss us—the us we were, the us I want, and the us we’re never meant to be.
The corners of Foster’s mouth turn downward and a dimple forms in the middle of his brow. He leans back and pulls out the cell phone from his front pocket. It buzzes in his hand. Sighing, he swipes open the screen and then turns toward the desk where he commences to text.
Allowing him his privacy, I face my monitor and check for new holds. Sure, I just checked half an hour ago, but one can never predict the demand for volumes on petroleum refining, diesel engine mechanics, or centrifugation technology.
However, there are none. I’m zoning out at a blank screen.
Foster grunts, tossing his phone onto the desk with a heavy clunk.
Curious, I peek over my shoulder to where he’s sitting with his glasses perched near the top of his hairline as he pinches the bridge of his nose.
“Is everything okay?” I ask, concerned.
“Yes. No.” He exhales. “It’ll be fine.”
“You don’t sound very convincing. Is there anything I can do to help?”
Foster laughs to himself.
He drops his hand to his lap and then laughs even more. The volume of his cackle rises, gaining the attention of two of the students in the nearby periodical section.
“Foster, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, humored. “Don’t worry about it. Thank you though.”
“Sure,” I reply, confused. “No problem.”
His phone buzzes on the desk, sending a vibration along the surface.
Foster once again grunts.
He doesn’t move toward the call.
“Are you going to get that?” I question.
“No. There’s no reason to.”
After about another fifteen seconds, the phone stills.
I scoot my seat closer to the desk, and moments later, his cell alerts him to a call once again.
“Wow. You sure are popular tonight,” I comment. “Did you start a dating hotline?”
“Like I need something like that.”
It stops and then starts again.
Twice.
Becoming annoyed by the nonstop vibration, I grab his phone from the desk.
“What are you doing?” he asks, reaching for his property.
“I’m playing secretary,” I remark. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle this.”
“Evelyn…” he scolds.
