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Hayden runs his fingers along the spines of the books as he walks between the library's shelves, breathing in the scent of paper, both old and new, relishing in the pressing silence of his favourite place. It's always surprising to a lot of people that one of the school's most talented and well-rounded athletes would choose to surround himself with books. That one of the best hockey players on the school team would choose to spend his afternoons in a hidden corner of this place, his nose in another book, his mind traveling into a story that takes place worlds away.
He loves it though; the fact that he's allowed to forget being perfect just for a short while and instead spend his time as a flawed hero in their imperfect world. He sighs as he stops just under the Mythology section, turning to face the shelf and actually start browsing for a book instead of just sinking into the feeling of being surrounded by them. His eyes scan across words, jump from title to title, trying to find something - anything, that catches his attention.
Hayden hopes to find something quickly, so that he can spend at least a few minutes reading the book itself before heading back to class. After all, his teacher only sent him down here because he requested if he could start his project early by picking out a book about the topic he was researching on. Stupid excuse really - very pretentious - but Hayden always made sure to be on the good side of his teachers without being the teacher's pet, so it worked for him.
A smug look passes over his face, his features just delicate enough that it doesn't look too cocky, and smiles to himself as his eyes finally land on a beige book, just above eye level. The title is intriguing, a play of words put together by interesting vocabulary, and is hooking enough for him to maneuver his fingers above the book, tipping it over and into his hands. He flips through it, glancing over the publication date, the author, and the short synopsis written on the back. It was only published a couple years ago, written by a credible author, and once again, the description was attention-grabbing and concise. Perfect.
He glances back to the spot the book previously took up, noticing that the space directly behind it is also empty, leaving a makeshift window into the aisle behind this particular bookshelf. His eyes detect some movement so he peers through, curious as to who would be in the library during last period when most people had classes they were supposed to be in.
A familiar bundle of red hair flashes just past him, and it takes a few moments for his vision to focus on Eileen. She seems to have rushed here from somewhere, her blouse ruffled and her hair just starting to fall back into place as she rapidly tugs a book out of the shelf and busies herself with it. The school librarian walks around the corner right then, her grey hair tied up in a neat bun that's so tight, the skin on her face seems pulled back, exposing her sharp cheekbones. She's the perfect picture of sternness as she looks down her spectacles at Eileen, who's managed to look as if she's just casually browsing. But Hayden knows better.
As soon as the librarian walks by, he briskly walks around the corner, book in hand as he makes a beeline for Eileen. She notices him a little belatedly, which means she can't run away from him or avoid him like she usually does. Instead, she sighs audibly, putting on the facade that she doesn't want to see or talk to him at the moment, but allows a smile to appear on her face anyway as she closes her book and sets it on the shelf.
"What, did you miss me?" she asks him, a cheeky tone in her voice. She looks up at him through her bangs, giving him a small grin. Hayden realizes she must be referring to the fact that she left French class before he did, and when he walked downstairs, she still hadn't come back.
He also takes note of the small fact that she stated the exact same words she used when he threw an eraser at her earlier. He wonders why (and how) she's still out and about, considering Madame never let her students stay out of class that long, especially when she was teaching a new lesson.
Eileen stares at him evenly, awaiting a response, feeling her cheeks heat up with embarrassment, yet again. She lets her eyes snap quickly in the direction of the door, desperately trying to will her blush to go away. The exit is just behind Hayden and leads to the auditorium, where musical classes were having a rehearsal. She'd been watching them through the window, listening to their practice, after deciding that her washroom break from Madame's lectures would turn into a full-class skip. She was interrupted when she noticed that the librarian was making rounds through the library, so Eileen had to quickly come up with an effective - albeit, fake reason to be here.
"Nope, 'course not," Hayden finally replies, and the fact that he's also repeated his words doesn't escape either of their notice. He smirks at Eileen, finding her blush -which is almost as red as her hair - amusing and even more amused by he fact that she can't seem to control it at all.
He debates whether he should say anything more but decides against it, realizing that just because he tried to catch her attention that one time didn't mean they were friends. Maybe he just liked seeing her flustered reaction to talking to him; it was sorta funny after all.
Hayden slowly turns away, heading to the sign-out counter to check out his book. In the back of his mind, he remembers that he didn't get to read. He also realizes that part of him wants Eileen to follow him and accompany him back to French class, take her usual spot in front of him, and be as cute and embarrassed as ever.
