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ChapterEighteen
SPENCER
Kayla’s been hunched over her keyboard all afternoon, typing away, focused on her screen. Weirdly focused. In hyper clack-mode. Every minute or so, she pauses to eye me sideways. Then she resumes the focus and the clack. In her defense, we’re next to each other at the reference desk, so eyeing me sideways is the only way she can do it. Take right now, for example.
Eyes. Totally. Sideways.
It’s awkward. And I’ve never felt awkward around Kayla before. That’s one of the things I appreciate most. Comfort. Predictability. I don’t appreciate feeling off balance.
I blame Tess.
She kept bringing Kayla up like we’re already a couple. Like I’m definitely interested in the woman. But that’s crazy. For so many reasons. And yeah. Here comes another side-eye. Right on cue. I have to ask.
“Everything all right?”
“Umm hmm.” She averts her eyes and resumes the clacking and the focus.
I glance around, wishing at least one library patron would approach. What usually happens is that no one has a question for a solid twenty minutes, then six people show up at once. That’s when Mr. Dudley will bluster by, armed with a clipboard and a healthy dose of panic. He’ll spit something into his walkie-talkie about a disturbance in non-fiction. Or his favorite non-sequitur, “Be that as it may.”
But the library has been quiet today. Too quiet. I wouldn’t be surprised if tumbleweed skipped past the desk. When I can’t stand the silence any longer, I turn to Kayla.
“Do you need any help setting up for story time? I could move the puppet theater into place for you. Or …”
“Thanks, but Lucy and I have it under control.” She meets my gaze straight on this time. Then she blinks and clears her throat. “We’re using the Little Tikes house and kitchen for a reenactment ofCloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.Have you read that one?”
“Honestly? No. But I saw the movie.”
“Ah. Well.” Kayla blinks again. “The book is much better. They always are.”
“Are they, though?” I scratch my forehead, exaggerating the ponder. “Maybe we’re just obligated to defend books over movies. Like the Hippocratic Oath, except for librarians. Some law in the unofficial handbook we get with our master’s degree.” I’m trying to spark up a debate, have a little fun. So I lift my hand like I’m about to go on the witness stand. “I, Spencer Crane, do solemnly swear to claim every book is better than the movie, evenThe Godfather.Heh heh heh.” Kayla’s not laughing.
Kill me now.
“We should get back to work,” she says, returning to her keyboard. Guess it’s just Spencer and the tumbleweeds again. Silent. Soooo silent. Never before have I wished so desperately that Mrs. Dodd would show up in a toga.
When it’s so quiet I can practically hear crickets, Kayla turns to me again. “Speaking of movies,” she says, and I almost cry with relief, “will I see you on Saturday night? Over at the camp?”
“Yep. I’ll be there.” Thank goodness we finally have something to talk about. “It’s part of my job. You’re going?”
“I am.” She offers me a small smile. “So I guess I’ll see you then.” She widens her smile. “And don’t worry. Your secret librarian shame is safe with me.”
Secret librarian shame? “Huh?”
“The movie thing,” she says. “That sometimes you like them better than books?”
“Oh. Right. Thanks.” When I pretend to zip my lip and throw away the key, Kayla nods.
She’s so agreeable.
Why can’t Kayla be the one who gets my pulse up? The one who challenges me? Who makes me toss and turn all night thinking up excuses to see her in the morning?
Kayla is pretty and smart. More importantly, she’s reliable. She shows up to work on time, and I’ll bet the milk in her fridge isn’t expired. She probably keeps extra sugar in her pantry to lend to neighbors. And transfers her houseplants into bigger pots when the roots get crowded. Kayla Herrera could definitely keep a goldfish alive for more than two days.
And yet. Even her brightest smile does nothing for me.
I should try harder.
Maybe I will.
