Tiffany's story

I remember them only being kind. They were dark brown and gentle. I couldn't tell anyone more than that, because... Well... I couldn't tell anyone. No one would understand what I saw in him. If I told them, then they would want him as well. And I couldn't have that. Compitition isn't something I'm very good at. If I were to show off in any form, I'd be smothered. Whether it was at a sport - which I was never good at - or boys - who never looked - or... Well... Anything.

All I had was the quietness of the books. They were quiet. Not silent. There was even the occational story that screamed. Many cried and I would try to console them, but the words were already down. Nothing could be done to save the poor frightened girl from the menising antagonist. The poor soldier boy had already died and there was nothing, yes nothing, I could do to change it for her.

Sometimes I wished so hard to be able to walk into the story for just a second, for a moment, so I could help the people I had come to love. So many times I wanted to walk into the police station and say, "The guy you're looking for is at 2541 Elms." then simply walk out and see what they would do. So many times...

But they are books.

Their stories are already written. The good guys die in some and win in others. How I wished I could have saved them. If only I could be in the spot right where they needed me. If I could carry a sword and fight off those demons that the antagonist throws at them, I could help save the fair lady and they could live happily ever after instead of him dying three feet away. If only...

There were so many of those.

But again, no. I'm in my time and they are simply in books. I'm the one forced to watch him as he works on his math homework over the pages of my book.

"Are you going to stare at him all day or what?" Konny, my best friend, said and slide into the seat across from me at the library.

"I wasn't staring. I was..." My voice trailed off, not having a good answer. The fact was I was staring and she was the only person to ever think I - tiny, little, insecure me - liked the mysterious one.

"Exactly. So why are you staring at him anyway? Does he have a tattoo or something on his arm you're lookin' at? Because then he would be interesting."

"I...I...I don't know..." I looked down, embarrassed. But no Adam just had these... eyes. There was no explanation. No word in any language that was good enough for them. For him.

"So make up your mind oand do something about it already. Do you like this creep or not?"

"He's not..." Well, if I was being honest with myself people did call him a creep or a psyco. After jumping into class in the middle of a term... After isolating himself at almost every moment... With his dark levi jacket over broad shoulders, smooth fingers that danced as he wrote, straight back that roared with confidence, and boots that were constantly covered in mud... Most people at school figured him to be a gang leader or ex-mofia or something.

"Yeah, this creep has got you hog tied," Konny smiled and shook her head as she gathered up her books. "Let's get out of here, Miss. Lovestruck."