Locked and Loaded; a Modern LoZ Zelink Story

Frustration

AN: song Linked above is "Everybody Talks" by Neon Trees because it's a great song and the vibe low-key fits this chapter (not really but whatevs). Anyway, enjoy!

Zelda drummed her fingers on her desk. She had refused to take up her father's old desk—too many negative memories were associated with it. Memories of sitting across from him, shrinking in the plush seat as the businessman spouted harsh vitriol at her for some minute mistake she made. Sometimes it was her grades, sometimes it was her attitude, sometimes she swore it was because she simply breathed incorrectly.

    That accursed desk remained in a locked, dusty room that Zelda refused to set eyes on again. Her father's office would not plague her anymore. The house's library had become Zelda's study. She claimed the desk there as her own, content in the presence of hundreds of books. Unfortunately, her father had never been one for fiction and most of the books were boring and difficult to read. She had read them all, regardless.

The downtown library had quickly become her favorite place. It was massive, complete with two upper floors and two basement floors, each serving a different purpose. The second floor had a children's section where they could check out everything from old PC games (even if no one used them anymore) to hand puppets. The bottom floor was reserved for students; it had rows of computers, printers, textbooks, and individual rooms where study groups could meet. The top floor even had a Plaza that served drinks in the evenings on weekends. She had been there a few times since she had turned twenty-one, quickly discovering it to be the perfect place to find souls like herself: nerdy, quiet, and single.

Zelda had been on a couple dates with people from the library Plaza. It never went anywhere and it had taken her a long time to find out why. She wasn't attracted to like-minded people. It made her a bit sad, knowing that she would have to venture out of her comfort zone if she ever wanted to find a partner. Not like she needed to worry about something as important as marriage at the ripe age of twenty-two, but it still made her anxious on occasion.

Her fingers slowed their drumming rhythm on the wooden surface as her thoughts turned drastically. It had been a few days since her wallet had been stolen by that... that... delinquent. That arrogant, manipulative, absolutely mouth-wateringly attractive ragamuffin. Zelda couldn't believe him.

She couldn't believe herself, either. It was embarrassing to look back and realize that she had fallen for his trap—hook, line, and sinker. The fact that she had almost allowed herself to enjoy it was beyond embarrassing. He must've gotten a kick out of that—making a rich girl like her dizzy. It made her furious to think about.

If she ever saw him again, she was going to give him a piece of her mind. Oh, she was going to get out her scary politician voice and throw down on him so hard that her father would smile from his grave. And if he tried to kiss her again, she would slap him across his pretty face. Yep. That was what she would do.

Just thinking about him made her blood boil from anger... and something else she didn't recognize.

After the "incident," Zelda had gone about informing the bank of the theft to close her cards and requested a new driver's license, though she had yet to get a new library card. College had chipped away her time for library excursions and leisure reading. Besides, she tried to leave the house only when necessary. It was mortifying to call up her personal escort instead of driving herself.

The chiming of the doorbell echoed through the mansion. Zelda didn't even flinch, leaving it to her most trusted maid, Leigh. The older woman had worked as mansion staff for as long as Zelda could remember and knew more about the creepy old house than Zelda did. She could handle any situation thrown at her with practiced ease—answering the door and deducing whether or not they were worth Zelda's time would be well within Leigh's repertoire of skills.