𝐁𝐄𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐕𝐄 → 𝐥.𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞

𝟕 | 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥

𝐈𝐅 𝐈 were to say my favourite place was a library, you'd probably call me crazy, but it gives me a sense of comfort. Think about it; the warm smell of each book as well as their crisp pages, the silence that was so deafening, but relaxing, and the rays of sunlight that would pour through the old, glass windows which were followed by a soft breeze. 

I could spend endless hours roaming the isles, fingers brushing against each original spine that held an entire world between its pages. I could sit by the wall, undisturbed, and just soak up each word, each sentence, each quote, without a worry. 

I was never much of a social interaction girl. I could make friends easily, and I would always spend time with them, but at the same time, I like it when I'm alone. When I can just sit in my thoughts, but sometimes it's a curse, especially when it comes to overthinking. 

But thankfully, I didn't have much to think about today. With my free period, I found it quite easy to locate the library, and find a good book to enjoy. 

Footsteps echoed through the isles, probably another student looking for a book, but when they stopped next to me, I felt a sudden rush of jitters. Glancing up, I saw that it the one and only Louis Partridge, the very boy who I've been trying to avoid this entire day, but to no luck. 

"Do you come here often?" He asked with a smirk as he leaned against the shelves. 

"Don't worry, I was just leaving," I quickly grabbed my bag, pushed the book back in the shelf and straightened up. 

"Hey wait," He called, breaking the only rule of a library, "Look, I know we didn't get off to the greatest start," He continued when he realized that I wasn't stopping, "And I just wanted--" He grabbed my wrist and pulled me to a stop, "Can you just listen to me,"

"I know what you're going to say and I'm not interested," I replied as I tried to pull my wrist away, but his grip was tight, once again. 

"Do you really know what I was going to say?" He questioned as his eyes met mine. 

"Was it along the lines of 'I'm sorry for stealing your book, not once, but twice, and I'm ready to drop to my knees and beg for your forgiveness'," I mocked in an English accent as Louis rolled his eyes dramatically. 

"I wasn't going to say that, and I'm not sorry for trying to steal your book," He replied and I scoffed loudly. 

"Look, I'm not a big fan of you, so why don't you let go of my wrist and I can continue my day without you bothering me," I suggested and he went quiet for a second, thinking about my offer. 

"Fine," He replied as he dropped my wrist and raised his hands in surrender. 

"Thanks," I replied sarcastically as I massaged my wrist. Spinning around, I started to walk away when Louis called me.