Lottie’s POV
Two hours, three minutes and thirty six seconds…
Two hours, three minutes and thirty five seconds…
Two hours, three minutes and thirty four seconds…
Two hours, three minutes and thirty three seconds…
Two hours, three minutes and thirty two seconds…
Blink
Two hours, three minutes and forty seconds…
Wait!
What the fuck?
“Ugh!” I shouted out into the silent library, glaring and sighing as obnoxiously as I could when no one responded.
Still nothing though, no response. In fact I actually heard my voice echo all the way to the back of the store before it came back and told me I was all alone, as usual.
“I hate this place.” I mumbled to myself this time, glaring so deep I was afraid I’d go legally blind from the force of it all as the door chimed open.
That was my least favorite part, this place sucked ass and there was never anything to do and then customers. Don’t even get me started on these ridiculous, leech sucking human beings that decided to walk into the library to ask where the restrooms were.
Fucking bullshit.
I felt whomever it was approaching too, the heavy thud of footsteps sounding the alarms that someone was near and probably had to piss. So I did my job, leaned back in the chair with the book covering my face and secretly muttered insults towards whomever had decided to be a bitch and interrupt me while I pined for Liam and tried to remember why I had been so embarrassed that I’d woken up with my hand on his face.
“Are you a library book, because I’m checkin’ you out.” It was deep, European and very, very sickly sweet. Which was exactly why I peered up over the top of my book carefully, and quite promptly hid back behind the worn pages because I could literally feel my face turning cherry red. “Did that not work? Dammit Louis told me to use the skittles one.” He was still talking, clearly not noticing that I was devising a plan to shed my skin and slither like a snake to the nearest drain and vomit butterflies. “Ok, fine.”
The book slipped easily from my fingers, my precious security blanket was now dangling from a large set of hands as Liam watched me without irritation or annoyance that I had very obviously tried to forget he existed. Instead he was actually smiling, his cheeks as wide as the sun, To Kill a Mockingbird still held open in midair, and if it weren’t for the fact that my father had gifted me the novel when I was three years old, I wouldn’t have been in a panicky state of anxiety from watching it in this exact position.
“Ooo Liam please don’t drop it.” I was definitely squeaking, my brain feeling a little airy and my heart sinking to the bottom of me feet because if that book was ruined I knew I’d have a hard time breathing for a good seventy years.
