Behind the Glasses || a.i.

Chapter 4

 I snatch my key and jacket from beside the door, swinging it open in a rush. Friday… Ugh. Pacing quickly down the hall, I bump into a person coming out of the elevator. I groan, apologizing quietly. “Work?”

 I look up at an amused Diana. “Yeah,” I exhale. “I was supposed to be there twenty minutes ago.”

 She chuckles, shaking her head. “Key?” she asks.

 I toss it to her. “Leave it under the mat if you leave,” I remind her.

 “Of course,” she says, turning away. “Have fun!”

 I roll my eyes at her sarcasm. I like work, so I don’t mind spending my next eight hours at a book shop. “I will,” I retort, the doors of the elevator shutting. I have to remind myself how to breathe on the way down to the lobby. When it juts to a stop, I panic, then I remember it’s just an elevator.

 I jog down the streets to the shop. I see the ‘Open’ sign in the window and panic, again. As I reach for the handle, someone calls my name. My eyes widen, as I don’t recognize the voice. I freeze, not thinking straight – or at all, really – and wait for something to happen.

 “Trinity!”

 I slowly turn around to see the boy that drove me home. What was his name…Arron?

 He walks over, smiling wider than the Mediterranean sea. “Did I get it right?”

 I gulp, nodding my head.

 “How’s your hand?” he asks. I look at the hand I had just unwrapped last night.

 “Fine?”

 “You look scared,” he states.

 I look back to my hand on the door. “I’m just… I’m late for work,” I say, embarrassed about forgetting his name.

 “Oh! Sorry about stopping you, then,” he apologizes. “I’ll see you around.”

 “It’s fine. See ya,” I mumble, sliding into the shop.

 I look back at the window, and he walks past, then stops, turning around. I watch him from behind the counter with curiosity, as he stops in his tracks, looking at the wall next to the glass. He looks in at me, and I look away. I shuffle through my bag, pulling out what I need. The bell on the door rings, and I look up. “You wrote a book?” He’s back.

 I nod, focusing back on what I’m doing. “Yeah, I did.”

 “Wow,” he murmurs.

 I look up again, and he is looking down. “What?”

 “I didn’t say anything. I just find it fascinating,” he explains, looking me in the eye.

 I gulp, not knowing how to answer.

 “How?” he asks suddenly.

 I shrug my shoulders, digging through my bag again, looking for my name tag. “It’s not that complicated.”

 He lets out a loud laugh, and it causes me to jump a bit. “Not that complicated? Really?”

 “I just--”

 “Unbelievable.” I think he is offending me, but then he adds, “A whole book?”

 “Yeah,” I respond in a questioning tone. “Why are so surprised?”

 He shrugs. “Not who I imagined you to be.”

 “Imagined me?” I almost yell.

 “Well, I mean—“