Lost in the Library

Sophie sighed as she reached for the last book on the top shelf, her fingers barely grazing the spine. She stretched onto her tiptoes, determined—

“Need some help?”

A deep voice behind her made her jump slightly. She turned to find a tall man watching her with an amused smile, his hazel eyes warm beneath dark lashes. He had messy brown hair, a soft-looking sweater, and the kind of easy confidence that made her stomach flutter.

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, trying again.

He chuckled. “You’re definitely not fine.”

Before she could protest, he stepped forward and easily plucked the book from the shelf, holding it out to her. “Here.”

Sophie hesitated, then took it. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, but he didn’t walk away. Instead, he glanced at the book in her hands. Poetry of the Lost Generation.

“You like poetry?” he asked.

Sophie tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I like words.”

His smile deepened. “Me too.” He gestured to the book she held. “That one’s good. But if you want something that’ll really wreck you—in the best way—try this.”

He reached for another book, handing it to her. Letters to a Young Poet.

Sophie stared at it, then back at him. “You’re just giving away your favorite book to a stranger?”

He shrugged. “Not a stranger. Just someone who likes words.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Okay,” he said easily. “What’s your name?”

“Sophie.”

His smile widened. “Nice to meet you, Sophie. I’m Daniel.”

She ran her fingers over the book’s worn cover. “What if I don’t like it?”

“Then I’ll buy you coffee so you can tell me exactly why,” he said. “And if you do like it, I’ll still buy you coffee, so we can talk about it.”

Sophie laughed, shaking her head. “That’s a pretty solid plan.”

“One of my best,” Daniel agreed. Then, with a small grin, he took a step back. “See you around, Sophie.”

She watched him disappear behind the shelves, her heart still fluttering. Then she glanced down at the book in her hands, a small smile curving her lips.

Maybe libraries weren’t just for getting lost in books. Maybe, sometimes, they were for finding something—or someone—unexpected.

---

One Week Later

Sophie sat in the corner of her favorite café, a steaming cup of vanilla chai latte in front of her. In her hands was the book Daniel had given her, its pages now dog-eared and full of underlined passages. She had read it twice. And it had wrecked her.

With a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and typed out a message. She hesitated before pressing send.

Sophie: You were right. I loved it.

A response came almost instantly.

Daniel: Told you so. Coffee time?

Sophie glanced out the window, smiling as she saw him standing across the street, holding his own cup of coffee.

“Unbelievable,” she muttered to herself, shaking her head.

But as she grabbed her bag and walked toward the door, she realized that maybe—just maybe—she didn’t mind being found after all.