Barnes frequented the library daily for studies and new knowledge; that's what she thought, if you didn't work there.

Mean, she didn't call an employee, but you paid too much attention to her. — She was closed off enough, she would give you a half-hearted 'good morning', or ask for some help.

But you always smiled broadly at her, complimenting her whenever you had an opportunity, or wanting to give her rides to the convent.

She accepted sometimes, but she never gave you an opening, just short, dry words, or neutral looks. — But always, always you were there insisting.

'Bye, pretty!' or 'We should go on a date' would always come out of your mouth, but she could never accept it. She was a mormon, church member, you were a woman too.

But also, maybe, just maybe, she liked the attention you gave her; The reasons for going to the library every single day were no longer just for studying. And she was blaming herself for that.

But not when she saw your face, it seemed like all the error and sin dissipated at the sight of her damned smile. "Good afternoon." She said right after entering.

"Good afternoon, ma'am." You leaned against the counter, already expecting her to correct you for that stupid nickname.

"For you." She placed a coffee on the counter. The same flavor you said you liked last week, my god, she remembered. "But you don't have to get used to it." She said in a rigid tone, but the smile was there.

It was so wrong, for her to fall for a female librarian's talk. But no one had ever treated her like you did, with that devotion and affection that no man could do the same.