I'm (Not) Giving Up On You

The Book on the Top Shelf

Stiles sat frozen in the driver's seat of his Jeep. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight, his knuckles were turning white. He had been full of so much resolve but now it was as if he was a deer in the headlights. The second he closed the Jeep's door, the bottom of his stomach dropped out. He glared at himself in the rearview mirror. His already pale skin had turned positively ashen. Nervous sweat beaded across his forehead and his upper lip. What was he doing? His eyes trailed to the pendant in the passenger seat. The blue piece glinted in the midmorning sunlight. Stiles was the one who had walked out on Derek. Derek was the one who cheated. So he should have to be the one to apologize. Right?
Stiles shook his head to clear it of any useless thoughts. He pushed any desire to see Derek into the deep recesses of his mind. He wouldn't allow Derek to have such power over him. Stiles turned the key in the ignition and listened while the engine purred. With an affectionate pat on the dashboard, he pressed on the break and shifted in to reverse. There was the soft sound of gravel as the Jeep moved out of the driveway. There were some books he had put on hold at the library. He might as well go and see if they had come in yet. For a moment he thought he had seen something in the treeline as he was backing up. But he quickly ignored it and drove down the street towards town.

Considering it was a Friday afternoon in the middle of March, Stiles was not the least bit surprised at the emptiness of the library. Stiles walked up to the counter where the library attendant was typing away on her computer.

"Afternoon Gladys," he greeted, "How's the manuscript coming along?"

The elderly black woman looked up at him from over the turtle shell frame. She flashed him a smile and leaned back from the computer screen.

"Stiles!" She exclaimed, "I haven't seen you in ages. You're definitely a sight for old eyes."

"Nothing compared to you," he countered.

Gladys pursed her lips, but her eyes sparkled with a smile.

"You think you're so smooth. Just remember, I've seen you with a bowl cut."

"Gladys, I thought we promised to never talk about fourth grade ever again."

She shrugged, "I must have slipped my memory. Darn thing gets rusty with age," she winked.

"So I've heard," he said with a smile.

"Oh! That scene you helped me with turned out fantastically! My editor says it's the best he's ever seen. Something about how all that supernatural stuff seems so real. Even said it had him looking over his shoulder at night!"

"Well, I'm always glad to be of service. It is my field of study after all."

Gladys dismissively waved her hand, "Wave your credentials at me a little more why don't you. Even so," she paused, "Is it really a good idea to put your entire future on something that doesn't exist?"

"I don't study actual creatures Gladys," he said, chuckling slightly, "It's the study of folklore and anthropology."

"Of course, of course. You can't study werewolves and vampires since they aren't real."

Stiles' lips curled in to a smirk, "Exactly. But speaking of which, have the books I wanted come in?"

"Let me check," she said before clicking a few times with her mouse. A frown crossed her features.

"Sorry honey, looks like they're still out," her eyebrows drew together, "And they're overdue! Why honestly, there is no reason for that."

Stiles pretended to listen, nodding sympathetically at the appropriate times, as Gladys went off on her rant about overdue books.