“Sia. Hmmm. Jenna likes her.”
“Wow,” she said shaking her head. “Why do you sound so surprised there, QB1? What were you expecting to see?”
Um. I don’t know. Maybe some screamo, emo band singing songs about death or how the world sucks, or maybe how conforming to nonconformity is rad. I mean if she was going to wear the hoodie and play out the loner routine, she might as well really commit to the performance. Soundtrack and all.
It was then I noticed how her hood was off her head. Her curly, red hair was pulled into a ponytail that lay in front of her shoulder. Her face was flushed. She almost looked like breathing wasn’t the most painful thing asked of her. She was almost...
Gross.
Don’t go there.
“Listen. Um. Can we talk?”
She laughed again. “Sort of late to ask me that, Mr. All-American. Since you know...we’re already talking.”
“Right.”
Carrie didn’t wait for me to continue. Instead, she pushed her cart of books further down the aisle and began to place the books on the self.
“So, I was thinking we could talk about...you know...that thing...that happened to us.”
“You want to talk about that thing that happened to us!” Carried exclaimed in a louder than needed voice, waggling her eyebrows.
I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. “Very funny,” I muttered.
“Oh, calm down, Die Hard. It’s not like any of your friends spend their Saturday afternoons at the public library.”
“Loving the nicknames,” I replied dryly.
She didn’t respond.
“So. Um. How long have you been working here at the library?”
Why was I so nervous?
I had talked to like a million girls before. Granted, never about the end of the world though.
“Don’t,” she warned.
“Don’t what?”
“Play the I want to get to know you act.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were.”
Count to ten.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Why does she have to be such a bit...
She lifted a book from the cart, but I grabbed it out of her hand. “Enough.”
Carrie snatched the book back from me, and pushed the cart into my stomach. The smile she wore only moments before fell. She glared at me. “You’re right. Enough. You want to talk about this now? How about when you saw me in the hallway? Didn’t seem like you wanted to talk then.”
“I know you’re not down with social norms, but that wouldn’t have been the ideal place to discuss the end of times,” I said, my voice rising. I kept waiting for someone to ssshh us like in the movies, but no one did. But then again, who spent their Saturday afternoon in the library? Especially in the...Human Growth and Sexuality Section.
Oh God.
“Right. Don’t want any of your posse to see you talking with someone like me. That’s it. Right? How self-centered can you be? I mean self-actualized. Sure. Great. But when you’re so wrapped up in yourself you can’t see a crap storm on the horizon, then we have some issues. I mean do we only talk about the end of the world when it’s good for you?”
“Ugh. God. I didn’t say that. I’m just saying that wasn’t particularly the best time. I had other obligations.”
Other obligations?
Excuse me world. You will all perish because I have other obligations to attend to.
“Sorry, dumbass, but I don’t think the apocalypse can be put on hold so you can screw your girlfriend.”
“I just...I just needed some time to process,” I stammered.
“No. You needed some time to pork your girlfriend’s brains out. Now go home. Or at least get the hell out of my way. I need to keep my job.”
She gave the cart another shove, but I was quick enough to brace my foot against it. “You have no idea how I spent my night, or any of my nights for that matter. And what I do or do not do with my girlfriend is none of your concern. In fact, I’m starting to wonder why you care so much about her in the first place?”
Carrie rolled her eyes. “Great. So, now I’m a lesbian. You’re pathetic. I only know because you and your bonehead friends have talked about this weekend every day for the past week in math class.”
She was in my math class?
I had to admit she was right. I loved Jenna. I really did. And even though I considered myself a great deal more mature than most of my friends, it didn’t mean I was above bragging.
Carrie didn’t wait for a response, shoving an earplug back into her ear. I reached up to pull it out, and she froze. Right. She didn’t like to be touched. I held my hands up in a mock surrender. With a heavy sigh, Carrie pulled out the earplug.
“Listen, I’m not asking you to like me. I’m asking for your help. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings yesterday. I’m not proud of it. I just needed one more day to pretend that everything could be okay. One more day to pretend the things I saw weren’t possible. I have no idea what happened to us, or what it meant, but I need your help.”