Olivia

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When I went back inside and closed the door, I literally sunk to the floor in front of it. I melted, more like it. Did that just really happen? Did I really just kiss him? Who was I?

I held my head in my hands with utter disbelief at the amazing night I had with Alex. He's... everything. He's sweet, calm, and relaxing. But for some reason, he triggers every single butterfly that could exist and I feel them all gathering in my stomach when he looks at me.

And, well, I'd be lying if I said they didn't gather in other places either.

How could I be so smitten already?

I wanted to talk to someone, to tell someone but I didn't know who. I couldn't tell Monica because she would absolutely slaughter me to my death. I already broke my promise. But it was too soon to tell my parents about him. I mean, this was only our first date.

Date?

Only?

There'll be more? I could only hope.

This is when I wish I was more of a social butterfly and had more than one friend in the city because now it's only 11 pm, and I have so much on my mind and nobody to say it to. I seem to spend a lot of time listening and not enough talking. Nobody gives a fuck about what you have to say, I hear Liam's voice in the back of my head. I shake it away.

I decided to keep one part of my promise to Monica, which was to spend more time with myself—by myself— doing self-care things. I drew a hot bath with a bluish-pink bath bomb and put a face mask on, my laptop propped on the toilet toward me with Friends on the screen and a glass of wine. Monica and I always joked that Monica is actually like Monica whereas I'm more like Rachel. Well, except for annoying Ross. Though I think I'd have preferred Ross over Liam.

After my bath, I did a multi-step skincare routine, in which most of the products are free, gifted from Monica that thankfully didn't break when my luggage fell. Before I met Alex.

There's already a before Alex?!?!

Like how there's a before Liam?!

I did not like how strongly I was feeling for Alex already.

I went to sleep, hoping there would be more of Alex tomorrow.

-: ✧ :-

Sadly, there was not more of Alex yesterday or for the rest of the weekend, and it was already Tuesday and I just finished talking to a 14-year-old about their existential crisis and what it means to be alive.

I loved working in a library and especially in the teen department. I had gone to the library a lot as a kid– with my family in my early years of life, and then I went on my own just to read. I had a close relationship with a couple of librarians in my hometown, and I knew I wanted to be one when I grew up.

Working in a public place, you hear a lot of stories. Sometimes ones you didn't even ask for, but they insist on telling you anyway. We have our regulars which usually are elders who are retired. I always feel a small emotional obligation to them because they remind me so much of my grandparents.

Of course, you have your crazies. Last month, a guy had started a fight over the bathroom being knocked on while he was in there. Yes, that's right. Just for knocking on the door. Or, you get the people who don't want to leave at the end of the night that you literally have to trick them to get outside the door so you can finally lock up. Or the ones that walk around talking to themselves all day long. And the ones that literally would live at the library if they could.

I know a lot of people through this job, and they're all so personal. They really don't care that we know about their son's defective genes or their father's addictions or their friends' boyfriends' cheating on them. They will really tell you anything.

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