Author's Note-Inspired by the letter at lalovelystories . files . wordpress 2012 / 12 / tumblr _ lik8f96gns1qb6t6wo1 _ 500 . png It's not the first time I've read it, but it struck a chord and I had to write. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. NYLF xx

He watched her as a tear escaped unhindered down her cheek.

She didn't move to wipe it away, simply letting it fall. Another followed it but her gaze never faltered.

He almost moved, forming half the decision to make his muscles make him stand and carry him to her side, to ask what has her so sad. But the decision stops there when he notices the book in her hands.

She turns the page with such reverence and devotion it's almost like a lovers caress, yet as delicate as a butterfly's wing.

He watches her, silently, unnoticed, for an hour. Watching the fascinating play of emotions over her face as she reads.

As she gets to the last page, he sees her shoulders slump just slightly, as if she's upset that it's ended. She closes the book slowly and pulls it into her chest, hugging it against her for a moment, eyes closed, just taking a moment to absorb everything she has just read. She takes a deep breath before opening her eyes, takes one last look at the book before returning it to the shelf behind her and slipping on her jacket before she leaves.

He watches her go before quickly making his way over to the shelf and taking the book she'd relinquished seconds before. He read it in it's entirety in the next hour and a half and was amused to find that he knew at exactly which point she started crying, because, not that he'd admit it later, he cried too.

It continued for weeks.

Every day he went to the library, and every day she was there, reading, holding the book and turning the pages as if they were made of gold leaf and would shatter at the slightest pressure.

And every day he would watch her, the emotions playing on her face, fascinated. Sometimes she'd smile, or laugh, or cry like she did that first time. Once or twice, she laid down the book, closed her eyes and took a deep breath before finding her place again, as if she was preparing herself for whatever was coming next.

Every time she reacted to the book she was reading, he'd check out the book once she'd left, interested to see if he had the same reactions. More than once, they matched identically.

After several months of watching her, reading the books that made her react so entirely, he looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time.

She was beautiful. Her smile lit up her face in the best way and even when she cried, her face crumpling, brow furrowing as crystal like tears cascaded down her cheeks, she was gorgeous.

She never noticed him, a fact he sorely regretted. But there was no way he had the guts to go and speak to her.

He wished she'd look up, smile at him, but her attention was always so entrapped by the book she was reading. And, while he wished she'd speak to him, or he had the guts to speak to her, he was so afraid that after months of watching her, she couldn't possibly live up to his view of her. And if he never got to talk to her, at least his imagination could conjure this perfect version of her in his head.

He always promised himself that one day; he'd just walk up to her and ask her about the book she was reading. Maybe she'd smile that gorgeous smile of hers and tell him about it. He could see her being so animated, as they discussed all of the books she had encouraged him to read just by reading them herself.

He doesn't go back to the library for a couple of months and when he does, he never expected to see her. But there she is, regular as clockwork, book in hand, sat at the back of the library. He watches as her eyes dance across the pages, knowing just by the way she holds it that she's just about to get to the story. But something he's noticed in all his time watching her, she reads every page. So he knows she's gotten to the third page, the dedication. He knows it because it's his book she's holding. His first book to be published, the very thing that kept him away from the library for all this time. He watches as a slow smile curves her mouth, until finally, the gorgeous full smile, all teeth and sparkly eyes, is there full on her face. She chuckles quickly before turning the page, immersing herself fully into the world he created for her. He smiles for the next two hours, as she reads, follows her page by page in his head, trying to match her reactions to what he had written. And she laughs, and cries, and smiles brilliantly. When she finishes, she holds his words to her chest and drops her chin on top of it. Her chin trembles as she cradles the book, swaying slightly. He wants to ask so badly, but knows it isn't his place. So he watches from afar. After a moment, she turns back to the dedication, tracing his words with a shaky finger before closing the book and tucking it back in the shelf, standing and leaving.

He hopes beyond all hope she understood what it meant.

To the girl at the table near the back of the library,

You inspired me to write this, to see if I could make you laugh or cry or smile your gorgeous smile

I hope I succeed


The boy a few tables away from yours x