Episode 2:QUITE PLACES,LOUD NOISE
641 Words
The library was supposed to be safe.
That’s what Amina told herself as she slipped inside, welcomed by the hush of turning pages and distant keyboard clicks. Libraries didn’t ask questions. They didn’t stare. They let you exist quietly, invisibly.
Exactly how she liked it.
She chose her usual spot by the window on the second floor, where the late afternoon light spilled softly across the tables. She pulled out her laptop, her notebook, arranged everything just so. Control. Order. Calm.
Except none of it worked.
Because her mind wasn’t on her coursework.
It was on Zuri.
Amina exhaled slowly, fingers hovering above her keyboard. It was just a look, she told herself for the hundredth time. Just a conversation. People met every day. People talked. It didn’t mean anything.
But her chest tightened anyway.
The way Zuri had said her name kept replaying in her mind. The ease in her voice. The confidence. The way she hadn’t rushed away like everyone else always did.
Amina shook her head slightly, annoyed with herself.
You’re overthinking. You always do.
She finally started typing, forcing her attention onto the screen. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. Her focus wavered, drifting, pulling her back to thoughts she didn’t want to touch.
That’s when she felt it again.
That same awareness.
A presence.
Her fingers froze.
“Do you always sit like you’re trying to disappear into the furniture?”
Amina nearly jumped out of her seat.
She turned, heart slamming, and there she was.
Zuri stood beside the table, backpack slung over one shoulder, lips curved into that familiar almost-smile. She held a book loosely in one hand, like she belonged there. Like she belonged everywhere.
“I—” Amina swallowed. “You scared me.”
“Sorry,” Zuri said, not sounding sorry at all. “Couldn’t help noticing you looked deep in thought.”
Amina glanced around instinctively. People were everywhere, but suddenly it felt like the space between them was too small. Too exposed.
“I was just studying,” she said.
Zuri hummed softly. “Sure you were.”
She pulled out the chair across from Amina without asking and sat down, leaning forward slightly. Close enough that Amina could smell her—something warm, something clean.
Her pulse betrayed her.
“This is my spot,” Amina said before she could stop herself.
Zuri’s eyebrows lifted, amused. “Relax. I’ll try not to ruin it.”
Amina hated how easily Zuri made her feel flustered. Hated how her body reacted without permission. Hated how a part of her liked it.
Silence settled between them—not awkward, just heavy.
“You always look like you’re carrying something,” Zuri said quietly.
Amina stiffened.
“What do you mean?”
Zuri shrugged. “Like you’re here, but not really. Like you’re afraid someone might see too much.”
The words landed too close to the truth.
Amina’s chest tightened, a familiar panic rising. She looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together. Don’t go there. Don’t open that door.
“I don’t know you,” she said softly, more defensive than she meant to be.
Zuri didn’t flinch.
“No,” she agreed. “But I’d like to.”
That was the problem.
Amina stood abruptly, shoving her notebook into her bag. “I should go.”
Zuri watched her carefully. “Did I say something wrong?”
“No. I just—” Amina stopped herself. Took a breath. “I’m not… good at this.”
“At what?”
“At letting people get close.”
Zuri stood too, slower this time. “Then maybe we take it slow.”
Amina met her eyes. There was no pressure there. No judgment. Just patience.
That scared her even more.
“Maybe,” Amina said, unsure if she meant it.
- Writer
