The Boy In The Crystal Ball

Chapter Seven: Flirting

Chapter Seven:      

 flirting

Lifting the heavy leather-bound book into her arms, Joanna hoisted it over to the nearest wooden table. The book slammed against the surface, producing a loud thump that resounded off the walls of the silent library.

With a grimace, Joanna tenderly flipped back the roughened cover and peered at the sharp, ink-like scrawling. She had been browsing the aisles of the library, awaiting for Stacy to pick up her latest magazine at the stand section, when her fingertips began to tingle. At first, Joanna had thought they were experiencing poor circulation; after laying in a bed for a full week, she had became accustomed to the buzzing sensation of her outer limbs.

Yet, as she flexed her fingers and continued to walk they began to itch and grow hot. It felt like something was tickling her underneath her skin, while becoming hotter and hotter.

Joanna cursed and flicked her hand, hoping the feeling would go away. As she did so, her foot got caught on a uprooted part of the carpet. The shift in her balance caused Joanna to topple into the old, heavy bookcase.

Her weight crashed into the side, and for a moment Joanna had thought the shelf would turn to the side and crush her. The heaviness in her chest tightened to an unbearable pressure as she helplessly watched the shelf teeter.

Books slide to the edges of the five stacked shelves, but one cascaded from its ledge; the book toppled over the wooden boundary, landing itself in Joanna's lap. The weight of it propelled her body to move, and she scrambled out of the aisle on her hands and feet, the book clutched to her chest.

The commotion brought everyone's eyes to her, as women in blue vests came to settle the shaky shelf; it hadn't fallen on top of her, but the possibility still shook her up to her very core.

"Are you alright?"

Joanna tilted her head up to see the inviting, masculine hand that was offered to her. That very hand was attached to a lean, tense arm, with made its way to a familiar face with blond locks and deep eyes.

She didn't think about hesitating, as her hand was enveloped in his warm one.

Skimming the first page, Joanna now watched Connor restlessly tap his pencil against the wooden table in agitation. He had explained to her that he was finishing up some homework, before heading home.

When he heard the ruckus she created, he rushed over to help and was shocked to see her there.

"I thought you'd still be recovering in the hospital," he murmured to her, after seating her down and asking if anything was hurting her.

Joanna inwardly cursed as she remembered her little incident. Since her talk with Officer McDonough, the cops had been trailing her every move, and although their actions weren't supposed to be known, some of the men were blunt enough to shadow her.

It felt like she was under the government's protection, rather than being watched for trespassing.

"I'm tough," she heard herself say. "I recover quickly."

"I can see that." Connor had remarked, smiling up at her. There was a small marking on the side of his cheek, which was only visible when his facial expression changed.

All the guilt she had stored away, cane crashing back into her at that moment.

"What's wrong?" Connor now asked, his pencil tapping entirely forgotten. "You're looking at me with a frown on your face."