diary of a teenage girl

Chapter 13: bookshy (Iris' pov)

James leads me down the hallway, but keeps going. "My room was back there," I say, tripping over my feet. "I want to show you something." He says, leading me down the hall into darkness. I feel safe with him. I can smell his cologne, hear his breathing, feel his supple skin and taut muscles, I can feel him. He radiates heat. A door creaks open and he walks me up, but I can't see a thing. He puts a hand over my eyes. "I'm going to turn the lights on, okay?" He says, his watch band pressing gently into the outdent of my ethnic nose.

"Okay." I whisper, scared to speak through the shadows. Light seeps in quickly through his fingers until it blinds me. I adjust until beauty is unveiled before me. It looks like the sixteenth chapel. It's the most beautiful room I've ever seen. It's a library with books to last infinity and ceilings to fit the big friendly giant. I gasp and put my hands to my mouth. The light is dim, barely filling the vast landscape of the castle-esque library.

"Well?" He says, peeking his head to look at me. I dump myself into him and he pulls me into his arms. "It's so pretty," I say, pulling away to look at it all. I could live here. "How is it sorted?" I ask, skimming my hands over the bindings of the books. "By year of release date." He says, pulling my hand to the other side of the room. "It starts in the sixteenth century with Shakespeare, paradise lost, the Bible king James," he walks his way back to the other side of the room. ". . . And ending with holly by Stephen king, Emily Henry, Ali hazelwood, all books from 2023." He says, the little ray of light beaming down on him.

He looks like a god, bathed in sunlight and beaming down on me. Sculpted by angels . . . I look around the room. There are several tables lined up like a college study hall. I walk over to them. It looks as though no one comes in here. There are off white fabric covers draped over every table, powdered in what must be years of dust. I lift a corner of the fabric. "You can take it off," he says, coming up behind me. I pull it down to the floor, dust shooting into the air.

I cough and wave it away. The table has the most beautiful sheen to it, it's like a pool of melted steel. It is pure metal. The renaissance paintings from the ceilings reflect onto it. It's almost like a mirror. I run my hand along the metal. James digs his hands into my waist and plunges me onto the table. I sit facing him, my legs dangling off. I laugh. He smiles, the sides of his eyes creasing. His teeth are pearl white.

    He takes my face in his hands and leans in closer. "May I?" He asks. I nod and he kisses me gently. He is always gentle. It's like he thinks he'll shatter me. I know he won't break, but I do the same because what if I push too hard and he is gone? he pulls back and smiles and I forget myself. He props me on his shoulders and I hold on for dear life as he lets me skim the bookshelves. "Take whatever you want. You could take the whole library if you wanted." He says. "But aren't these your moms?" I ask. "She built this whole library for me. As you can see when I'm gone she forgets it's here."

He blows away dust on the tempest. "I'm convinced she is actually made of money. She blew five hundred million last week on who knows what. My dad lives in a 1,000 square foot home, Iris. But she can't spare a dime." He says, shoving the book back in its place. It concerns me that he is forgetting I'm sitting atop of his shoulders. I hold onto the bookshelf just in case. "I'm sorry, James." I say, teeter-tottering on his shoulders, barely keeping balance. "Sorry, I'll set you down," he says, kneeling.

I slide off and stand. "I shouldn't talk about my mom to you, I'm being callous, aren't I?" He says with a face that says I'm sorry. "No. Just because I don't have a mom doesn't mean you can't have problems with yours." I say, hugging him. He hugs me back harder and I can feel his stress. "It's okay. He is a lawyer, I'm sure he will save up. Would you believe with her net worth, she hasn't given a penny to charity." He says, looking at me with hurt eyes. I touch his face. "Don't worry about it, James." I say.