In the Library The library was supposed to be quiet, but not when Theodore decided to sit at the same table as you, even though the room was nearly empty. He spread his books out unnecessarily, encroaching on your space, and smirked when you glared at him. “Problem?” he asked, feigning innocence. You bit back a retort, refusing to give him the satisfaction. But when he “accidentally” knocked over your ink bottle, spilling it across your notes, your patience snapped. “Do you actually have a purpose in life, or is annoying me your full-time job?” His blue eyes gleamed, and he leaned in just enough to make your heart race in frustration. “I live to make your life miserable, obviously.”