Party Boy

Losers in the Library

I giggled at Nico, who was attempting to balance two books on his head. "You're going to get us kicked out."

"They can't kick us out for having fun," he retorted.

"Actually, they can. You're not supposed to goof off here, you're supposed to read, or research, or work, or study."

"Then why would you take me here?" He wobbled a bit, but they hadn't fallen off yet.

I had to admit, it was impressive, as well as amusing, but I couldn't help worrying about the scene he was making. I kept glancing around, seeing if anyone was watching us. We were generally hidden by the tall shelves of books we were standing between, but I couldn't curb the gnawing feeling we were drawing attention. He was making a fool of himself, and if someone saw, they would definitely judge us. It would be mortifying. And if a librarian did see us, we really could get kicked out. I knew it was ridiculous, but the thought terrified me. But Nico didn't seem to care at all. I tried to match his care-free attitude, but it was a struggle.

I skimmed the wide variety of books on the shelves next to me, hoping that focusing on that would help me stop worrying about being judged. "I like this place. It's peaceful, relaxing, and there's books. I love books."

"Me too," he agreed. The books toppled off his head and I laughed loudly at the exaggerated crestfallen look on his face.

He shushed me. "Now you're the one who's going to get us kicked out. This is not a place to goof off," he said in a serious tone, mocking me.

I was being too loud, but I couldn't stifle another laugh.

Nico picked up the books and placed them back on the shelf he got them from.

He sat with his legs crossed in the middle of the aisle.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"Sitting," he replied.

"What if someone needs to get through?"

"I'll move."

"There are chairs, you know."

He shrugged. "I like this better."

I pushed my reservations aside and sat across from him in the same way.

"Criss-cross applesauce," he stated.

I laughed more. "What in the world?"

He gestured to our legs. "We're sitting criss-cross applesauce."

"Who calls it that? That's so weird."

"That's what it's called! What do you call it then?"

"Indian style."

"That's not politically correct," he replied.

"Well yours doesn't even make sense."

"Criss-cross. Your legs are criss-crossed. Applesauce. It rhymes. Plus, criss-cross applesauce sounds way more fun than 'Indian style.'"

"Sitting like this was a common part of the Indians'- sorry, Native Americans' culture."

"Doubtful. There's probably not any historical truth to that."

"There's definitely not any historical truth to your name for it either."

He laughed. "I love you," he said casually.

All of the color drained from my face. "Wh-what?" I stuttered. I must have misheard him.

His eyes widened. "I meant... I mean, I love talking to you. I... you're, you're really fun to talk to and you're a really good friend, that's all."

"Oh. Yeah. I love talking to you, too," I said lamely.

"You're the only real friend I've ever had," he said, making eye contact with me.

His gaze was honest and intense. I broke it immediately and searched for something to fidget with. Nothing. I cursed myself for not wearing anything with zippers or buttons. I started to pick at my cuticles.

"I think you've been my only and best friend, too," I admitted, looking up at him briefly before busying myself with my nails again. I looked up once more. "Thanks. For being my friend."

"No, thank you," he answered with sincerity.

I smiled at him, and then started to laugh.

He smiled back but looked confused. "What are you laughing at?"

"The only friends we have are each other, and we're thanking each other for that. Also, we do that a lot. Thank each other for being each other's friend. Do you realize how lame that is?"

He chuckled. "I guess it's pretty sad."

"We're such losers," I stated. I had always argued with people that Nico wasn't a loser, but by the view of the rest of the world, he was. So was I. And that was totally okay.

"You're just now seeing that? We're hanging out at a library."

I smiled more. "Fair point."

"Being a loser's not so bad when you're with me, is it?"

My stomach fluttered. I felt my face burning, but this time I didn't look away from him.

Being here with him felt... right. Being anywhere with him felt right. He was my only friend, my best friend, but so much more. I couldn't describe it. Did I have a crush on him? Maybe, but that doesn't convey how I felt. I didn't just think he was cute. I didn't necessarily want him to be my boyfriend. I didn't want to do anything romantic with him, per se. I knew for sure that I did want to spend all my time with him. I wanted to sit here and talk to him forever. I wanted to go on long walks and road trips and adventures with him.

I didn't know what all my feelings meant. It was nothing like what I used to feel about Vince. Then again, I was only in seventh grade when I had a crush on him. He was cute, nice, funny, so I liked him. Lyn, against my wishes, told him so. He asked me out. That was that. Even while we were dating and things were good, I didn't want to be around him all the time. It was nice to have someone to compliment me, hold hands with, kiss, and take me on dates, but we didn't say much more than small talk to each other. We didn't truly connect.

Nico was an entirely different story. He was nice and funny as well. Moreso, actually; much more. He was cute too, in his own way, but it didn't matter what he looked like. Because I did connect to him; I connected to him on a deeper level than I could have dreamed of before I met him.

I didn't know if I wanted to date him. I didn't think so. Simply because being friends with him was all I needed. But... I did get butterflies from some of the things he said. And every time I hugged him, I was filled with warmth. I didn't know if he felt the same way, though. And things were good how they were. For now, I didn't want anything to change.

I responded to him after a few seconds with a grin. "Nothing's so bad when you're around."