Todd sat at his desk, the crumpled remains of failed poems scattered around him like fallen leaves. Each line he'd tried to write about her—the girl from the library—had felt inadequate. How could he capture the way her hair fell gently across her cheek when she turned a page? Or how her eyes, focused and serene, seemed to exist in a world entirely her own?

It was Neil who pushed him. After reading Todd's shy letter about the girl, Neil's response had been swift: “You have to talk to her, Todd. Poems are great, but words out loud? That’s where the magic happens.”

And so here he was, clutching a notebook nervously as he entered the small, sunlit library. Todd’s heart hammered in his chest as his eyes scanned the room. And then he saw her—sitting in her usual corner by the window, a book open in her lap, completely immersed.

For a moment, Todd froze, second-guessing everything. What if she ignored him? Or worse, what if she thought he was ridiculous?

No, he thought. You’re doing this.

Taking a shaky breath, Todd moved forward until he was standing a few feet away. His voice nearly caught in his throat, but he forced himself to speak. “Um… hi.”

She looked up, her eyes meeting his, and Todd felt his knees nearly give out. Up close, she was even more beautiful than he remembered—soft features framed by sunlight streaming through the window.

“Hi,” she said, a small, curious smile tugging at her lips.

Todd’s hands gripped the notebook tighter. “I—uh… I see you here a lot. Reading. And… I don’t mean to interrupt you, but…” He stumbled over his words, cheeks burning. “I just… I think it’s really cool how much you love books. I—uh—I love books too.”

Her smile widened, and she closed the book gently. “Thank you. I don’t think anyone’s ever said that to me before.”

Todd blinked, surprised by her warmth. “Really?”

“Really,” she nodded, her gaze soft. “And you are?”

“Todd,” he replied, nearly breathless. “Todd Anderson.”