The library smelled of aged paper and lemon Polish. Sunlight pooled over the rows of bookshelves that towered over the building, each area its own terrain of knowledge. The librarian sat hunched over her desk, her eyes drifting across like a watchdog.
On the second floor, aisle 3. Was the section of Gothic novels ranging from Frankenstein, Dracula, and The Castle of Otranto. Bo and Jane were on opposite shelves. He was leaning over a shelf, the polished column grazing his back, and the faint smell of lemon hit his nose but his attention was focused on the goth who was entranced on a thick page of a vampire novel with a leather cover that roughness reminded them of its veteran status. He tilted his head towards her, "I'm not into macabre, but Poe always made death seem like a romantic act rather than your body being devoured by fungi.
"Ha–that's quite morbid from you, woodsman." Jane laughed softly, her dark eyes staring at me, the twin shadows swallowed the dim light that was more for a mood setting for readers than actual assistance in finding specific books.
Her lips curved into a smirk, "You brought me out here just to flex your knowledge of dark literature?" She teased.
"Well... It's not every day you meet a goth girl basically undressing you with her eyes as her redhead roommate threatens to stab you with a rusty ink machine. So yeah, flexing is the least of my worries." He said.
"Hhmm," she murmured, eyes analysing his words with soft scrutiny. "Is this strictly a book date where we yap about pages all day or...is there a love-scene crash?"
He loomed over her, his form covering her like a warm blanket, their lips a breath apart and she closed the gap, smashing her lips to his, unable to resist the pull like a moth to a flame. The feeling of their lip-lock sent her nervous system into overdrive, her arms looped around his neck as her desperate need for grounding to calm her sensitive touch, her breath hitched as the intrusion of his tongue into her mouth cavern sent her heartbeat drumming into her ears and her eyes were fogged by the heat of it all. He lightly pressed her to the shelf, his hands gripped her hips, steering her body closer to his. The only sound that filled the usually eerie section was short inhales, soft moans, and clothing scraping as their host were lost in the makeout that swallowed them more than the shadows of the wall.
By the librarian's desk, her glare was focused on the 2 individuals in front of her, a pale-skinned woman, with her hair dishevelled as if she had just woken up, her black lipstick had a smudge on the corner of her lips and her eyes were directed to the ground as if making eye contact would reveal her secret(it did). And the man next to her was unashamedly standing there with a smug grin, a violet hickey marked his throat, the faint bruise by his Adam's apple, he showed it off like new ink.
"Is the vampire novel all you're taking today?" She asked, trying to hide her judgmental tone with the polite act she had mastered over the years.
"Yeah, that's about it." He replied, his arm wrapped around her shoulder, shifting her close to him in an unnecessary display of affection. "She really liked the book." He stated.
"Yeah...I found it quite...enlightening," she added, a faint blush creeping onto her cheeks.
"Enjoy." The librarian said, in a dry tone, not hiding her disdain.
Scene setting
2-bedroom apartment, Brooklyn | 2 PM
The sound of the door opening, letting out the melodies that echoed from Faith's room, and the smell of Bobbi's ink-stained gloves she had a habit of leaving by the kitchen counter Jane walked in, almost floating her way to her favourite armrest. Bobbi, sitting by the diner table, noticed her roommate's mood like a sceptical mom. She quirked an eyebrow, "What got you all happy, Jane?"
"Oh, you know... just ran into a certain Mortal. She answered.
"A certain Mortal?" She questioned, already moving towards her.
"Yeah. He got me a new book... might have to read it with a new bottle of Nero D'Avola she muttered softly.
"Wait, did you go out with Bo?" She pressed her, teeth gritting at the utterance of his name. "Please don't tell me you're smitten with him?" She pleaded with a tired tone.
"Ummm...by smitten, do you mean like," he got me flowers smitten or he might be neck bites worthy smitten?" She asked with all seriousness.
"This can't be happening. "