When Trouble Meets Trouble

Story 2 years ago

When Trouble Meets Trouble

P r o l o g u e !

(Savannah’s Point Of View.)

“I’m heading off to the library,” I called out to my

mother. She looked shocked that I even knew what a

library was. Gee, thanks mom.

“You’re going to the library? You mean the place with

books?” she questioned, her eyebrows rising slightly.

I let out a chuckle before nodding.

“Yes, Mom. That’s the one; I need a book for a

report. If I don’t get it, I’m definitely failing,” I replied.

“Okay, well, have fun,” my mother snorted. The

amusement was clear on her face. Her dark brown

hair, something I inherited, was tied back into a

messy bun and she had on a large t-shirt and

sweatpants.

I waved at her before getting into my car, a black

Jeep Grand Cherokee that I worked so hard for. My

parents had chipped in for it, too but I managed to

get my half of it. It was way better than sharing a car

with my older brother Jeremiah.

Speaking of the idiot, we had gotten into a fight this

morning. I scowled at the memory before pulling

into the parking lot of the library. It was empty aside

from a few cars. Whistling and twirling my keys

around my index finger, I walked over to the

entrance, opening the door and allowing the warm

air to fan over me as I walked to the counter.

“I’m Beverly, how may I help you?” a blonde girl

squealed. I smiled at her, automatically sensing that

she was one of those girls that is too nice for her

own good. Not because she’s blonde, but because

she seems like she cares about other people’s

opinions more than she does about her own I bet

more people walk all over her than they do to the

library’s welcome mat. That’s sad, really.

“I’m just looking for a book on Adolf Hitler,” I

casually spoke, leaning on the counter. She clacked

away on the keyboard, scanning the computer

screen.

I adjusted my glasses on my nose. Don’t let my

appearance fool you; I am no nerd, if that’s what

you’re assuming. Unfortunately, in 8th grade, I spent

so much time playing video games that my vision

went to crap and I was prescribed glasses. There is

no way I’m sticking a contact on my finger and

stabbing myself in the eye with it. Besides, I have

really sensitive eyes and they water a lot. My finger

won’t even reach my eye and I’m blinking and my

eye is creating it’s own Niagra Falls.

“It’s in the fourth row, on the second shelf,” she

smiled cheerfully as she pointed in the direction of

the shelf. I nodded, muttering a ‘thank you’ as I

shuffled across the tiled floor.

The library was nice and I don’t know why I don’t

spend more time here. Ha, who am I kidding? Sure,

the library’s nice, but I’m not one to spend my time

with my face buried in a book. I’d rather be at home,

playing video games or sitting on my bed with my

laptop placed on my lap. Or at the mall, watching hot

guys shop and laugh with their friends. Or even out

somewhere, maybe with my family, or my friend

Meredith.

I looked up and noticed that the ceiling was high and

that the library had a second floor, or at least a

wraparound balcony with glass windows and

couches for you to read on, I’m guessing. I noticed a

sign for Free Wi-Fi and I raised an eyebrow with a

slow nod. Maybe I could spend my time here.

When I reached the fourth row, I heard the door

opening. Or at least I think it was the door, this was

my first or second time being in the library for my

whole 16, soon to be 17, years of being alive.

“I’m Beverly, how may I help you?” the lady at the

front desk’s voice echoed throughout the lonely

library. Yeah, I was right. That was the door.

Someone else was here. It was probably an old lady

coming to return a book that she’d checked out in

1975. Instead of an old, fragile voice responding, it

was a guy’s. He didn’t sound too old; it didn’t have

that wise ring to it.

I made my way to a table, opening one of several

books about Hitler that I’d grabbed from the shelf. I

started reading one and surprisingly, it was

interesting.

I heard whispering and I didn’t bother looking up, it

was probably the guy and Beverly. He most likely

didn’t have a sense of direction. If he did, there’s no

way he’d be here. No one comes to the library

anymore, mainly because whatever you need to

know, you can look up on your phone or your

computer. I don’t even know why I’m here. Oh wait,

yes I do; I don’t have a library card so I can’t check

out any books; I should have just went to a

bookstore and bought the darned book.

I heard shoes walking across the tile floor. When

they stopped a few feet away from me, I came out

of the trance that I was in while I was reading. I

heard the chair across from me screech out. It

echoed loudly as I looked up.

I raised an eyebrow at the sight. A guy was standing

there with black hair and coffee colored eyes. He had

a smirk present on his face and he was wearing a

blue flannel shirt that he left unbuttoned; it revealed a

gray shirt underneath it.

“What?” I asked him, already annoyed with his

presence. This surprised him but he still had that

smirk on. His aura was enough to tell me, ‘player,’ or

something along those lines. I guess I’m good at

reading people.

“Well, I’m here. What are your other two wishes?”

he asked and I narrowed my eyes at him, taken by

surprise.

“For Channing Tatum, and then for you to go back to

where you came from,” I retorted.

“Your eyes are like the ocean, and I think I’m lost at

sea,” he stated. I was confused. My eyes

are brown. Is this idiot colorblind?

“My eyes are brown, moron,” I retorted. I know it’s

not kind or polite to insult strangers but I can’t help it.

“Can I take a picture of you? I want to show Santa

Claus exactly what I want for Christmas,” he

continued, leaning in slightly. I leaned away,

confused as to why this guy is even talking to me.

“Can I take a picture of you? I want to show the

police exactly who I’m filing a restraining order

against,” I snapped.

“How was Heaven when you left it?” he persisted,

starting to creep me out.

“When I left I didn’t have any proof that God had a

sense of humor, now I’ve found it,” I barked.

“Don’t you need a license to be that good looking?”

he pushed, eyes glinting. For whatever reason, I was

having an intense stare off and verbal battle with this

strange guy.

“Don’t you need a license to be that ugly?” I spat. He

raised an eyebrow before continuing.

“Did it hurt when you fell from Heaven?” he asked.

“No, but it hurt when I crawled up from Hell,” I

bickered.

“Do you have a Band-Aid? I just scraped my knee

falling for you,” the nameless guy replied, unwilling

to give up. This is a battle I’m not willing to lose.

“No, but I have some salt,” I snorted. Who knew

you’d get into conversations this amusing at the

library?

“Did you have lucky charms for breakfast? Because

you look magically delicious,” he winked jokingly.

“No, I had a bowl of nails… without any milk,” I

responded.

“What would you say if I asked you to marry me?”

he leaned forward.

“Nothing, I can’t laugh and talk at the same time,” I

spoke, raising an eyebrow.

“Do you think it was fate that brought us together?”

he inquired, his coffee colored eyes swirling.

“Nope, it was just plain bad luck,” I replied before he

could finish.

“If you were a stop light, I’d turn red every time you

passed by, just so I could stare at you a bit longer,”

he ran a hand through his dark locks.

“Red lights are the only things I run,” I countered. I

turned my gaze towards my phone which sat on the

table beside the book. It was already 7:35 and the

library was closing at 8. Curse the weekday schedule

and my procrastination problem.

“If you give me your number, I’ll leave,” he told me.

I eyed him, narrowing my eyes. I weighed my

options. I really need to finish this paper.

“Fine,” I replied, ripping a sheet of paper out of my

notebook. I scribbled my brother’s phone number

onto it. It’ll serve my brother right and it’ll get this kid

off of my back.

“I’ll call you,” he replied, standing up and walking

over to a guy leaning casually against the wall

opposite to the counter, talking to Beverly with a

smirk on his face.

“Don’t count on me answering,” I honestly said,

getting back to work on my essay. Like I needed a

distraction.’