They say that the mood you woke up in tells how your entire day will go.
I think I could attest to that right now.
When I woke up to my alarm, my mood had nothing to do with the throbbing headache caused by the wine I had indulged last night. But all thanks to Wizardo, I was restless.
My tease backfired on me big time, but I still blamed him. He was on my nerves the entire night after he ended the call, and he was still the reason why I felt like punching someone when I woke up.
Rory wasn't helping with my mood either. He kept on asking me about Jace every time he had the chance.
I swear these guys were a pain in the head and nothing more.
Hitting my forehead with my hand, I repeatedly cursed Wizardo when the library doors hissed, welcoming a newcomer.
Today was one of those days when people preferred to be somewhere else other than visiting the city library.
It was quiet, and our resident visitor, Herme, was done typing furiously on her laptop. She had now put on her earplugs and was perhaps watching a movie from the looks of it.
I looked up, my eyes narrowing at the lone person who walked inside. The man approached me in a confident gait, his formal attire—a matching black ensemble with a fedora on his head.
He had broad shoulders and a mustache.
If he was trying to look suave, he achieved it. But if he was trying to impress me, he failed.
The brooch pinned on his left coat pocket already told me who he was. Or at least why he came by.
"Greetings, beautiful lady," the man put his hand on the table, his fingers drumming on the desk. A sly smile was playing on his lips as he eyed me and down.
It made me want to puke as his gaze appeared more predatorial than intimidating. I had to restrain myself from hitting him in the face.
I was still fuming about what Wizardo had done. Hence, I was itching for some release of tension in my nerves.
This guy might be the perfect candidate for that.
However, I had to downplay my personal feelings and set them aside.
I already made a mistake by fighting a fight that had nothing to do with me, partially exposing my identity to two parties.
I forced my lips to smile.
"What can I do for you, kind sir?"
The man seemed to have liked my response. A smile curved on his lips.
"I recently found myself fascinated by books. There's this sudden craving to read, you know?" he wiggled his brows at me.
My irritation had risen to another level.
In my mind, I had already stabbed him countless times. He was swimming in his pool of blood.
Forcing my lips to smile again, I looked at the man and then gestured at the right side of the library.
"That's lovely. I would recommend you to browse the fiction section if you are interested in immersing in stories beyond your imagination."
Gesturing further away from that corner, I continued to smile at the man.
"Or you can find yourself immersed in non-fiction. If you could give me a list of your preferences, maybe I could provide a few personal recommendations."
The man's smile seemed to have widened.
He leaned on the desk, his eyes looking into mine.
"I like some action novels. You know, lots of killings but also plot twists. I find it thrilling to read how others die in someone's hands, especially those who butt in someone else's business."
He paused, eyeing me on purpose.
"Isn't that the usual trope for that kind of story?"
I couldn't help but enjoy the look of triumph in his eyes. He might be thinking that he was threatening me this way.
"You have an odd taste in books. But I can't blame you. I have a collection at home, thrillers and even books about psycho killers. It's rare to find someone with the same weird inclination to find killing as a hobby fascinating."
I clicked my tongue, oblivious to the man's evident indifference in his expression.
"Don't get the wrong idea, though," I clarified. "I'm not hitting on you. But do you want to know my personal preferences in this trope?"
"Please," the man replied, no longer happy. "Enlighten me."
I smiled.
I didn't fake it this time.
"Give me a moment so I can list them down. You would find a few of these books around here. The others, too bad, have gone missing."
I grabbed a pen and scribbled the book title and the section where he would find them. I included the author's name.
I counted seven books. Keeping the smile plastered on my lips, I handed it to the man.
He accepted the list, giving it a once over.
"You have an interesting collection."
The tone of his voice had me smirking. It was neither amused nor impressed but annoyed that he didn't get the upper hand.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the familiar black sedan parked outside.
They won't let this slide. But neither would I.
It was enough that they managed to hurt me once.
Allowing them twice would mean I was an idiot.
I'm not.
Well, sometimes, maybe. But that wasn't the point.
"I'm always glad to be of help to all book enthusiasts. I hope you continue to visit. Bring your friends along. As you can see, we'd love to have this space filled."
The man let out a soft chuckle. His laughter didn't reach his eyes.
It was one of those forced waves of laughter.
He looked at me with a gleam as he winked, downplaying his disappointment.
"I'll be sure to pass the message along," he waved the piece of paper I gave him. "I'll take the time to read each one. I'll come back for more."
I smirked.
"You'll like it, that's for sure."