Stranger danger

"I don't understand books," I look up at the stranger who just interrupted me from reading 'ugly love' by Colleen Hoover. "A story ends when the main character dies, not when they find their soulmate." I don't reply and put my attention back to the book. I don't understand this stranger, and I won't try, but I am surprised that he tries to start a conversation with him. A few seconds later, he speaks again. "The book usually ends with both of them alive. It doesn't make sense to me that life ends like that." With the way his green eyes are digging holes in my eyes, I find myself replying to his weirdness. "The story doesn't finish when the book ends." He looks at me as if he is waiting for me to elaborate, but I avert my eyes to the book as I continue stating my opinion. "You get to imagine what happens next." To every person in the world, they are the main character in their own story, even if they see themselves as the extras. To every ending, there's a new beginning. "I don't believe in imagination," he says. "I believe in reality." I lack self-control, and I accidentally snort. "Without imagination, how is a human supposed to dream?" "You don't think dreams can come true?" "I do," I nod, still not taking my eyes off the book, even though, at this point, I am not reading. "After you imagine it." The stranger sits across from me and places his coffee cup on the table. Unfortunately, I share a room with my twelve-year-old sister, which means I have no privacy at home. I don't have a quiet place to read books, so I often let my brother drop me off at the library near our house, giving me a chance to read quietly. But today, this stranger had to interrupt me and state his opinion as if I had asked for it. Usually, I'd be too shy to respond to anyone, but there's something off about this guy. Finally, I look up at him and take him in. I hate admitting it, but he looks incredibly handsome and handsome. His blue eyes look like I am staring at the sky, and his golden brown hair matches the pure sand. I look at him and see nature. His strong jaw shows as he smiles at me and waits for me to elaborate. "Some of us are smarter than others," I shrug. "Books not only improve your focus but also your empathy." "Are you calling me stupid?" The guy smirks, taking the coffee cup from the table. I roll my eyes and focus on the words in the book rather than the words coming out of the stranger's mouth. "Can I read the book blurb?" This stranger wants me to hand him the book? What if he rips it apart? Or worse, steal it? I don't know if he's serious or not, so I ignore him and continue trying to read the book. After a couple of minutes, he decides to break the silence. "Hudson." I raise my eyebrows and look up at him. I don't say anything, but I stare at him like I am staring at a donkey. Even though his handsome features, he still looks clueless to me. "My name is Hudson. What is your name?" I don't know if I should tell him my name, so I take my time to think of a fake name. "Avery." It isn't a lie because my middle is Avery. So, it doesn't matter because I am never seeing him again. "You have a beautiful name," Hudson compliments. Then, he shifts in his seat as if waiting for me to compliment his name. "Your name is odd," I tell him, and maybe, he'll take the hint and leave me alone. "Who calls their beloved son Hudson?" "Are you sure you read books? Because it seems to me you're uneducated," he claims. "Hudson is an English name, even though it appeared in the states thirty to forty years ago. The name you claim is odd is full of adventure, even though Hudson can be the last name. The name is usually given to people who made hoods." "Yeah, I read books that tell stories about each name in the world for all I care," I roll my eyes. "What do you want?" "I don't know," Hudson shrugs. "Usually, when I see girls sitting alone, I talk to them, and they're nice to me." "Well, unfortunate for you, I come to the library to read and not to find boyfriends," I fake a smile in his direction. "Who said something about boyfriends?" Hudson smirks, shaking his legs. "Can you please find another girl to annoy?" I huff and glare at him. Hudson stands up, without uttering a word, and heads out of the library quietly. I feel bad for being rude to him, but I can't help if I am here to do one thing: read. I don't socialize with anyone besides my sisters and parents, and I don't know how to communicate with others without feeling anxious. However, for the first time ever, I didn't feel anxious when talking to someone - especially a guy. So, if my sisters were around, they would call me stupid, especially when I met this person in the library, which I considered my second home. I feel bad that I pushed yet another person out of my life. Instead of following the only guy who I didn't feel anxious around, I sit still in my seat and continue living another person's life. A fictional character's life. I know. My life is pathetic, and I can see that I am wasting my youth, but I can't help it if I can't bring myself to let someone in my life. I tried multiple times to let myself love someone, but it's hard to love someone when you don't love yourself. I don't know how or when it started, but I have found it hard to make friends ever since I was a kid. Even I thought it was normal to have a family with whom you weren't close. It wasn't normal to feel nervous talking to your dad or sitting with him and not having anything to talk about. Growing up, my father's siblings didn't accept us because my mom wasn't American, and she had a different culture than theirs, which was funny because American culture is a mixture of different traditions from other countries. It's late Thursday, and I don't usually go to the library at this time. I usually come here after school, but today, I felt off after school. I turn the page and begin to devour words. A few minutes later, a guy enters the library wearing a Mexican poncho, a broad-brimmed high-crowned hat and red sunglasses. He approaches me, and tilts his head to the left. "Ola, ¿puedo leer el libro, por favor?" (Hello, can I read the book blurb, please?) Confused, I close the book, forgetting to put the bookmark between the pages, but then, I sigh in relief when I remember that I just reached chapter fifteen. "Hudson," I sigh, noticing the dimples in his cheeks. "You speak Spanish, too?" "Without having to read," Hudson shrugs. "So, can I?" "Can you what?" I raise my eyebrows. I knew it was a mistake to choose the table right across from the main door. "Can I read the book blurb?" Why is he so keen to read the book blurb? He can pick any other book from the bookshelves in the other room than annoying me. I have to remind myself not to push people away from me, because that's what I am doing to Hudson, but nobody can blame me since Hudson is still a stranger to me. "How did you get the Mexican poncho and the hat?" I ignore his question. "How do you know what's poncho?" He puts his hands on his hips. "I read, remember?" I say, bitterly. "You don't look hispanic." "Did you just assume my race?" I roll my eyes. "I am not giving you the book to read the blurb." "My friend is Hispanic, and he is reading a book as we speak," he explains. "He has everything Mexico needs in his car. So, now can I read the book blurb?" I realize that I am not giving him the book in fear that he'll steal it, I enjoy watching him ask for it in annoying ways. "No." Hudson sits across from me, and drops his elbows to the armrest of the armchair. "Oh, come on! At least, tell me the name of the main character." "The protagonist?" This time, it's Hudson's turn to roll his eyes. "Big words, I don't care." "Tate," I reply, even though it sounds like I am forcing the name out of my mouth. His eyes sparkle, and a soft smile forms on his face. “Tate.” He fell in love with the name. “Such a beautiful name.” “I know,” I agree. “Your name is prettier though,” he winks at me. I feel the warmth of the blush crawling on my skin, so I force a chuckle to try to cover it. “I know.” 1) My name is Olivia. 2) I don’t like my name that much. 3) How do I know if he’s being honest? 4) Avery is a common name, and it can be a last name, too. 5) So, it’s as odd as Hudson’s name. Hudson smiles, and looks up at someone else, who is walking out of the library. “Alright, I have to go. I am still waiting for the book blurb, so here’s my phone number. When you’re ready, send me the book blurb.” He hands me a napkin, and only when I watch him disappear do I look down at the napkin to see the digits. My phone rings, and I answer it after I read my brother’s name on my phone. “Are you out?” “Yeah,” he answers. “I am not waiting for you. Hurry up.” I sulk, closing the book after placing the bookmarks in between the pages, and I carry my backpack as I head out of the door. I find my brother’s car near the entrance, and I walk toward it, stopping when Hudson stands in front of the door. “Is this your car?” “My brother’s,” I reply, walking past Hudson to open the door. Hudson pulls my arm, and opens the door for me. “Did you save my number in your phone?” “Yeah,” I lie. “Okay,” he says. “Don’t forget to say hello.” When I climb into the car, he closes the door after he salutes, and runs away from my brother’s glares. “Who was that?” “I don’t know,” I shrug. “A guy I met in the library.” “Obviously,” he scoffs as he starts to drive. I didn’t save Hudson’s number. I forgot the napkins on the chair where I was sitting on. Darkness and sadness consume me at this moment, and I don’t know why but I feel the heartbreak even though I just met Hudson. But why do I feel like I just lost a chance of getting a good friend? Why do I feel like I just lost an opportunity to live just like those characters in these books I read? Then, I look at myself in the rear view, and remind myself that nobody can ever love me. I am not a lovable person, and I can’t bring myself to love someone else. I am, me. I am not my sister who boys chase, or my little sister who has many friends. I am the one who doesn’t have real friends, and depends on books to fill the void in her heart. ***