My Neighbor, Mr. Rogers

Chapter Three - You Heard That, Huh?

'I should really read more history.'

I'm currently shelving recently returned books in the library's history section and I don't recognize half of what these titles reference. I could blame the education system, but I think I just forgot everything I learned from class.

I've just finished with the M's and as I move my trolley to go around to the next aisle, I see him. Steve. Wandering about like an adorable lost puppy. I quickly duck back into the aisle. As demonstrated by past experiences, I don't do well in surprise social interactions.

Unfortunately, the wheel of my cart catches on the corner of the metal bookcase. Luckily the bookcase is bolted to the floor, but the hit is hard enough to send the books from the top shelf of my cart crashing to the ground. I smother the instinct to shush myself. I immediately kneel to begin scooping up the thrown books. I'll admit that my stomach twists a bit to see some of their pages have creased from the fall.

As I turn back to reach for the next group of sacrificed books, I see another pair of hands has already gathered them together. Hesitantly, my eyes look up his arms to his face. Of course he heard and came to help.

"Anne." He looks surprised to see that I'm the klutz.

"Steve," I breathe out roughly, like a cough.

"Are you okay? That sounded like it might've hurt," he says in a hoarse whisper.

I grimace. "I'm fine. The only thing hurt is my ego and unfortunately some of the books."

We both stand and I begin taking the books from him, placing them back in order on the trolley. As I come across books with creases I stop to unfold the pages before moving on.

"So how long have you worked at the library?"

"Since I moved to New York about a month and a half ago," I answer in my professional librarian voice as I take the last books from his hands.

"And where did you live before that?"

"California, actually." I push the trolley around the corner to the next aisle, keeping a careful eye on the wheels this time.

"What brought you all the way across the country- if you don't mind my asking?" he adds politely. And he doesn't come across as nosey, his tone and demeanor are all genial curiosity. But this is a much more personal question than his others and I pause a moment before answering.

"Family. My mom is- she's...sick."

He nods and doesn't push it.

"How about you, where were you before you were across my hall?" I ask.

He also hesitates before answering. "I was on deployment, ma'am." He is in the military.

I stand a little straighter and look him in the eye. "Thank you, Mr. Rogers, for your service and your sacrifice." I know it sounds cheesy, but I mean it. I offer him my hand. Steve looks a little confused at my reaction but he shakes my hand and nods once. "What branch?" I ask as I let him go and start shelving the books.

"Army," is his short answer.

"My dad was Navy, a Marine," I tell him softly. "So, are you here looking for anything in particular or just looking?" I ask before he can say anything.

"Actually, someone told me you offer classes for computers?" For the first time since I've met him, Steve sounds completely unsure of himself. A quick glance over to him is a mistake. With one hand scratching the back of his neck, his brow scrunched up, and his mouth in a crooked unsure grin- well, he's absolutely adorable. Grown men who are already attractive should not be adorable. It isn't fair to the rest of us.

Snapping out of my mental tangent, I answer, "oh, yes. We offer free night classes on computer basics two nights a week. It's really nothing in-depth, just enough to get you started and I try to answer any questions you may have."

This has an immediate effect on his countenance. His forehead smooths and his soft blue eyes brighten. "You teach it?"

"Well, yeah. But it's usually just senior citizens."

He chuckles.

'Oh, please don't do that.'

"I should fit right in."

"Are you sure about this? I mean coming to one of the classes. They are really basic. Anyone under sixty can usually figure the same things out just by pushing some of the buttons. And with Google, well, you don't need me. Most of the older folks just prefer talking with a real person."

He's making that adorable confused face again.

'Stop it.'

"'Google'?"

My face stretches; my eyebrows hit the ceiling and my jaw hits the floor. "You're kidding, right?"

His face stays adorable.

"There's a class tonight at six on the second floor. It's in the room with all the computers. I suggest you start as soon as you can."