Lost and Found

Finding a Book

Monday is not the best day in the week for me because I have lectures from nine to three. I wouldn't mind this normally, but I'm anxious to spend some time in the library.

Finally, three o'clock comes and goes and I can check it out properly.

Luckily there are only a handful of people there, so I can take my time wandering around the shelves, looking at every book until I find the one I want to start with. I end up with 'And Then There Were None' by Agatha Christie. The cosy seats around the fireplace aren't taken so I sit myself down on one of the sofas and begin reading.

"'One old maid,'" comes a voice again from right behind me around twenty minutes later, and I jump out of my skin, "'The sour kind...' hey, it sounds like you!" Asher pats me on the shoulder and sits down on the sofa opposite me. He's smiling, evidently pleased with his own wit.

"Hey! You need to stop doing that! How long have you been reading over my shoulder?"

"Couldn't help it, you were so engrossed, I wanted to see what had captured your attention," he takes his bag off his shoulder and sits back, swings his leg up onto his knee and rests his hands behind his head. I tilt the book in his direction so he can read the title. He leans forward, squinting his eyes to read the print. "Isn't that one quite gruesome?"

"That's what makes it good," I close the book and place it on the arm of the sofa beside me.

"So you like to read murder mysteries?" he runs one hand through the fringe of his floppy hair.

"Yep, my favourite genre."

"Oh? What about other genres, you like any others?"

I blush a little, "romances and dystopian romances,"

"Oh reeeaaally?" He exaggerates the word sarcastically and sits up straighter in his seat, "from one extreme to the other," he laughs, now propping his feet up on the coffee table.

"What are you doing here if you're not reading?" I accuse, trying to quickly change the subject.

It's his turn to blush when he replies, "Oh, I looked in and saw you... wanted to ask how your first day's been."

"How'd you know it was me? You can't see my face from there..." I turn to look in the direction of the door, how long had he been watching me? I didn't know whether to be creeped out or flattered.

"Are you kidding?" he smirks and nods towards the top of my head, "you can see your hair from a mile away."

"Oh. Yeah. Bit of a giveaway, huh?" I smile and tuck a strand of my ginger hair behind my ear.

"A little... it suits you, though." He gets up and starts to walk away,

"You forgot your bag," I point towards his bag, still lying on the floor.

"No, no, I'm coming back. I just need to find a book," and off he goes in search of one, winking at me as he does so. I watch him out of the corner of my eye walking around the shelves as I had done, looking at every book, sometimes pulling one out to read the blurb. I admired the way he held his hands behind his back as he walked, looking like he was enthralled by a piece of art at a gallery or museum. He finally finds one he likes and walks back to me, his eyes glued to the cover the whole time. "Have you ever read this one?" He holds it up for me to have a look. The cover reads 'The Silent Patient'.

"No I haven't, but if you like it then I'll have to read it afterwards." I smile at him, "so, is that your favourite? Thrillers?"

"I wouldn't say I have a favourite really... I just read what I think sounds good."