The Library Agreement

19

When the song concludes, the band takes a break, and I step out of Charlie's arms, looking down to hide my wild blush. His fingers are still locked around my wrists, and I glance up at him quickly, seeing the expression on his face that can only mean one thing.

I don't want to let go.

So I don't. I adjust my hand to fit into his and lead us back to our table, sliding into my side of the booth while he goes into his—but never letting go of his hand.

The waitress comes back for our orders, and we place them. She disappears without another word, leaving the two of us by ourselves once more.

"Hailey Richards is a Diet Coke addict." He declares, after a while, and I furrow my brow.

"Yes, I am." I reply warily.

"Is there anything else I don't know?"

The tone in his voice is teasing, like we're playing a game, and I join in immediately.

"Let's see," I say, tapping my chin thoughtfully. "I've always wanted to go to New York."

Charlie raises his eyebrows. "Now there's something! Hailey Richards, New York and Diet Coke enthusiast. Interesting."

I laugh, taking a sip of the aforementioned drink, which has gone a bit flat for my liking, but I swallow anyways.

"How about you, Charlie Portman? Anything you like in particular?"

"Me?" Charlie says through a laugh, stirring his water a bit, "Personally, I'm a bit of a Hailey Richards enthusiast."

That makes me laugh out loud, and I have to cover my mouth to muffle the sound a bit, because people around us are already starting to stare. I turn wide eyes to Charlie, who is smiling ever-so-slightly, the corners of his mouth kicked up.

"That's—that's a very dangerous interest to have." I say finally, once the laughter has died down from my chest. "I mean, what about your reputation?"

At this, it's Charlie's turn to laugh.

"Hailey, my reputation was thrown out the window the moment I met you. Despite everything the Library Agreement says, I knew that I would care more about you than any stereotype. Besides—after our speeches in class the other day, I don't think the football team is too keen on having me back."

I frown ever-so-slightly, opening my mouth to speak just to close it again.

"Say it," Charlie says, his thumb moving over the ridge of my palm. "Say whatever you want to."

I know exactly what I want to say. I just don't know how.

After a few seconds of silence, I finally find the courage to speak.

"I just—I don't understand why you won't be the kid in the library more often. That speech was one of the best things I've ever heard. You were just so...so into it. It's like you didn't care. Like you didn't even think. It just happened, and it was beautiful."

Charlie's smile drops from his lips; he looks at me with a certain intensity that I'm not quite sure what to make of.

"I can say the same thing about you, Hailey." He murmurs. "You keep pressing me to be myself at school, but what about you? You're an incredible person—there's so much to you that people don't see, so much that you have to offer this mundane world. All everyone ever sees is this quiet, bullied girl who stood up and talked about all these deep things—depression and suicide and all the evil that comes with them—and then sat back down. Pretended that it never happened. Never said a word since.

"No one likes discussing those things. People just like to sweep them under the carpet, act like they don't exist. But they do. They do, Hailey, and you brought attention to those things when no one else would. That was the girl I know. The girl who likes Diet Coke and wants to go to New York, the girl who is adopted, the girl who trusted the wrong people, the girl that I love. That's her. The imperfect, broken, completely crazy version of you is the version that I fell in love with."

________

Hailey looks speechless; there are tears beginning to well in her eyes. I move my hand to her cheek—the one that isn't still gripping her own—and run my finger over her cheek, pushing the tears back into submission.

"I'm afraid to be that girl." She whispers. "I'm so afraid to be that girl."

"Why?" I press, and she bites her lip.

"There are a million reasons why. Because I'm adopted, because my parents died, because my life has been the complete opposite of normal. Because people don't like me, because I don't always say the right things, because I can be insane and there are parts of me that I don't want anyone to see. Because I hate the way I look and I've tried to change it, because I have this awful disease called depression, because I'm not like everyone else and I never will be. Because people in today's society aren't accepting, and I am someone who has to be accepted."

She says it all at once, like it has been burdening her for ages and now the weight is lifted—I can see her chest rise and fall, she's breathing hard, like she hadn't expected to let everything come out.

"I'm sorry." She says quickly, wiping at her face furiously. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have—"

"Don't apologize. Never apologize for being vulnerable."

Hailey glances back up at me with a slight smile. "Thank you, Charlie."

"First off," I say, inhaling deeply, "I don't care that you're adopted. I don't care that you've had a bit of a rollercoaster ride when it comes to your past. If I'm honest, I have, too. Secondly, normality isn't actually a thing—it's a standard. 'Normal' doesn't exist. There is not a person on this planet who is 'normal'. There are, however, millions of people who wish they were.

"Third, people can only dislike you if they actually know you. You have given me the chance to know you, and I like you. A lot, actually. So let the people you know and trust be the judges of whether you are liked or not. Even if you're not; it doesn't matter. Being a little insane and saying the wrong things at times is something I like to call imperfections. We all have 'em. Don't make them a bigger deal then they are.

"And do I really have to sit here and tell you that you're beautiful? Honestly, Hailey? You should know this by now. Oh, alright, I'll say it—you're drop-dead gorgeous, alright? You really are. Now, I'm trying to remember what you said after this, so give me a minute.

"Oh! Right. Depression. I've been through this, too, believe it or not. Right—right when Dad died. It was a long time ago, but sometimes, the hurt feels fresh and piercing—like I'm feeling the initial shock and overwhelming sadness all over again. Depression is one of those things that you can't exactly fix. It's something you have to overcome. I overcame it. And soon, you will, too. Even if it takes a long time—I won't leave your side throughout the entire thing, you hear me? Because my mom left me in the middle of my struggling, she left me all alone to go do her grieving, to be sad, all on her own—and I had to face the devil all by myself. And I'm not doing that to you. I am never going to do that to you!"

My last sentence is nearly screamed; I didn't mean to get so worked up. Hailey is staring at me, her lips parted in what seems like awe and surprise, and I realize that my hands are trembling and that my vision is going blurry from unshed tears. I duck my head, hoping that no one is looking at me, praying that no one saw—

"I love you." Comes her voice, soft and gentle and everything I need right now, in this moment. "I love you, and I think I've been in love with you since the night we found each other in the library. I loved you when you wrote the Library Agreement, I loved you when you protected me from Parker, I loved you when you stood up and talked in fifth period English. I loved you when you punched that kid in the hallway, I loved you when you admitted that you cry over The Fox and the Hound. I loved you when you gave me Alice's Adventures, I loved you when you bought us pizza, I loved you when you hugged me today, and I loved you when you turned up the radio on the way down. I loved you before either of us even had to say it, because that's what love is. It's seeing one person and beginning to fall in love with everything they do, with everything they are. Love is a pinpoint, an instant, a singular moment in time that just happens. It's not gradual. It's not slow. Love is a spark, a second, a chance."

Hailey Richards then takes a deep breath, leans over the table, looks me straight in the eyes and says,

"Love is the thing that makes life worth living."