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It wasn't unusual for pretty people to come into the library. Pittsburgh is a big place, there are beautiful people bound to be out and about. You just didn’t expect to see someone like her.
You knew she was a doctor because of a few screaming hints: her black scrub pants, her issued hoodie with a yellow and blatant Pittsburgh Medical Trauma Center print, and the badge reel hanging on her hip with a bright green stripe that read DOCTOR. If you knew anything about information literacy, these three details could only lead to one conclusion.
The girl was a very pretty doctor. Much too pretty to be working in a monstrous state hospital where she likely lost hair ties frequently and stained her creamy skin with blood. As her blonde head of hair bobbed through the sliding doors and towards the counter, your brain ran through about four different scenarios in which you could get hurt and trap her into saving you, each of them consistent with necessary mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
You blinked when she reached the desk, shifting weight between her left and right foot, and you were unsure as to what you might begin with. You, of course, had to welcome her in and ask if she needed help. But your tongue felt like cotton. Was that medically qualifying?
The beautiful doctor smiled tightly, like she had to remind herself of the expression’s importance, and she said, “You guys are still open, right?” The timbre of her voice was smooth and deep. Like a saxophone. Or Superwoman.
“Yes! Why?” You spat out, brain catching up with mouth.
The doctor glanced around and smiled. “It seems pretty dead. But the sign was still on.”
You hummed eagerly and leaned on the counter, hand wrapped around the book scanner for emotional support. “Oh, yeah. Well, we don’t get a lot of latecomers, but we close at eleven. You’re just in time.”
The doctor nodded curtly and tucked a rogue lock of golden hair behind her ear. They were incredibly round ears, ones you could picture in a Disney movie. She was pretty enough to have walked right off the animated set of Tangled. You felt yourself revving up to blabber, and a nervous rhythm began to thump inside your chest.
“Well, welcome in! Can I give you a hand with anything tonight?”
She scratched her temple and shrugged. “Yeah, actually, um… I was hoping to set myself up with a library card?”
Your ears perked up. A card. A card indicated there would be multiple visits. Books to find, books to touch, books to put in her long-fingered, wide-palmed hands, hands that looked like they could slot nicely with yours, fingers that looked like they could notch nicely in places not work-appropriate. “Absolutely! I can get it done right now. It’s easy.”
“Cool,” she smiled wide, and her teeth broke through this time. White and round as a rabbit’s. Christ, there was no winning.
“Um, yeah, so…” You blinked, trying to remember what you needed to start a library account. This was literally the most basic and common routine you did every day. You needed… shit… “Oh! Sorry. Right. Your license. Could I just peek at your license? For, like, identification purposes.”
“Oh, sure.”
The doctor dug into her pocket, the same pocket her hospital badges were clipped to. Your gaze flickered down to see a whitewashed photograph of her with a neat braid and glasses– she looked the same now, without the braid, and much more tired– and in black letters, you made out the name. Melissa King. Her name was Melissa King. Doctor Melissa King from Pittsburgh Trauma, one of the largest trauma centers in the country, only a few blocks up the road. You heard the sirens all day long. She likely took people out of those ambulances with those sirens. Saved their lives. And she wanted a library card from you at 10:30 p.m.
You took the little slab of plastic and smiled at her, reading the name you already memorized. “It’s nice to meet you, Dr. King.”
“How did you– oh. Right,” Melissa grinned down at her appearance. “I sort of scream it, don’t I?”
“A little. Just wait here, I’ll be right back.”
Melissa crossed her arms and leaned against the desk as you scampered away to the card copier along the back wall. All day you pressed these buttons and spat out cards for newcomers who would show up once or twice and then forget they had an overdue book and never return. You hoped to God she wasn’t one of those people.
You punched the right sequence to assign her a fresh card with its own number, Melissa’s number, on the back. This number could follow her around the entire county. She could go to other libraries if she wanted and return the books to you. Wouldn’t that be fun?
You could print either a white card with a black logo, or a black with a yellow, and seeing as her work garb was running with the yellow motif, you picked the coordinating choice. A little square came hot off the press and you retrieved it, turning back to the counter. You slid her license back to her and plucked a Sharpie from the pen cup, scribbling her name on the special line.
“So, do you like being a doctor?” You regretted trying to make small talk the second you said it, but it just popped out.
“Yeah, I do. It’s great, y’know, doing something important every day.”
Her sincere answer made your heart flutter. “I can only imagine.”
“I mean, you do something important every day, too.”
You lifted your head as you capped the marker and laughed. “Like what?”
“I don’t know, like… protecting literacy. Giving kids a place to have imaginations. Giving adults a place to remember they had one once.”
Melissa crossed her arms and tilted her head, offering you a twinkling look that made you grateful the counter was there for purchase. “I wouldn’t say I do all that.”
“Libraries are important. That’s why I’m getting a card.”
“Usually people get cards because they don’t want to buy books.”
“That, too,” she teased.
You giggled awkwardly and passed her the card, flipping it over to show her the barcode on the back. “Just show this when you check books out. The library has a cap on five books at a time, and they’re due back three weeks from the day you took them. You can call or come in if you need a renewal. You also have free access to all kinds of stuff here with it, like we have study rooms and a recording studio, and we have a huge movie and audiobook section, and there’s CDs and cassettes and–”
“You seriously have all that?”
“Mhm,” you smiled, “and we do a lot of community events, if you’ve got family or friends, a boyfriend you like to take out.”
Melissa’s cheeks pinked as she scrunched her nose. “No, no boyfriend. Not my type. A sister, though. Although, she’s been busy with her boyfriend as of late… really busy… and I work so much I bet I wouldn’t ever have time to make it, I’ll probably mostly be coming by at night, so– well– you didn’t need to know all that, actually.”
A warmer laugh erupted inside you, and all you could think was how absolutely sweet she seemed. And no boyfriend. No boyfriend was good. Not her type. “It’s okay. A lot of people like to talk to us.”
“Us as in librarians?”
“Sure. I guess we have friendly faces.”
“You do,” Melissa said, and then seemed to realize what she said, and swallowed thickly.
You shared in her nerves and tapped your nails on the counter. “Well, um, was– was there anything else?”
“Huh? Oh, no! Just the card. I should get home, anyway. You gotta close up, I think.”
Your eyes darted to the clock above the door, and sure enough, it was ten to close. Being the only librarian on staff at night was great until you had to clean everything by your lonesome. “Ah! Yeah. I do. Okay.”
“Thanks for your help,” Melissa tucked the card into her wallet and flipped it shut. “Are you usually here at night?”
“Yeah. I’m the resident owl.”
“I bet I’ll see you soon, then?” she offered, her voice upturning with hope.
“I’ll be here,” you gushed, unable to help yourself. You felt like gummy worms were crawling inside your stomach.
“Cool. Goodnight, then.”
“Night, Dr. King,” you lilted.
On her way out the door, she looked back. “Mel’s better.”
You caught it just in time. “Mel it is.”
As the sliding doors zipped shut and the dark street swallowed Mel’s figure, you slumped against the desk and groaned in metaphorical pain. That was really great, you scolded yourself, bumbled like a true idiot. You didn’t even want to close up. You just wanted to stand there, behind that desk, in your old cardigan and unfortunate boots until Mel came back. You wanted to show her every book you had and then kiss her promptly on those life-saving lips. In just twenty minutes, you had made a fool of yourself and fallen into a deep and predictable infatuation. You read too many romance novels, you decided, as you pushed off the counter and got to work.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
Mel had let a week pass before she came back to the library. She was incredibly nervous to do so, because the last time she showed her face she had encountered you, and you were proving to be horrific trouble.
You were so cute. Plump like a peach, curved in all the right places. She could see your soft tummy when you pressed against the counter. The violet of your sweater made the tones in your skin sing. Your teeth shimmered when you smiled. Mel was convinced that she could draw you from memory after only looking at you for at most twenty minutes, and if she was already at that stage, there was no getting herself back. She wasn’t good with crushes, and so naturally, she avoided it.
But she was bored. So, so bored, and so alone. Becca was no more than a series of rushed phone calls recently since she moved in with Adam and started spending their dedicated weekends and Elf Fridays with her boyfriend. Mel’s apartment was a mess of unwashed clothes and uneaten pizza, and without her sister to give her any reason to keep it clean, the poor girl had ended things with her vacuum. But even more than that, she hated being by herself. It was bearable when each night was just a few hours of sleep because then she barely saw the place, but on her days off that were once scheduled for Becca, Mel had nowhere to go and no one to see. Trinity had invited her to karaoke a few times, and that was great, but it wasn’t enough. No amount of Samira and Frank and Parker was enough. Mel thought maybe if she picked up a hobby, the time would go by faster and she would find herself at work again. Work was the only place she felt comfortable anymore– however twisted that was, she did not need to know.
That was the point of the library card. It was close to the hospital, so she could go on her lunch (if she got one) or after her shift. It was a huge library, four stories of stuff to absorb, and it wouldn’t cost her a thing. She barely used the resources in the city while she instructed patients all day to drain the system for what it was worth, and so taking her own advice would be a good step forward. Except now she knew what waited for her at the library, and so the question became this: Be alone, or be infatuated?
As she trekked down the sidewalk in the balmy summer heat, she had decided to go with the latter.
The glass doors slid open in greeting. Mel crossed the threshold anxiously, peering at the front desk. You weren’t there, which initially was a relief, and then a colossal letdown. As the doctor walked further in and studied the first floor laid out before her in a maze of shelves wrapping around a lit staircase, she heard a soft rustle and turned around again.
You poked your head out of a shelf and called, “Welcome in!”
Mel’s heart fluttered at the sight of you stationed behind a book cart. There was a pencil spearing your hair and failing to keep it out of your eyes, and a pair of glasses perched on your nose. You had no glasses last time. She walked deeper down the aisle until she could see you up close.
“Hi again.”
You startled and whipped around to see the beautiful and elusive Dr. Melissa King, and immediately your face went up in flames. “Oh! You!”
“Me,” she bantered, laughing sheepishly. “Sorry if I scared you.”
“No, it’s okay! It’s great! I’m glad to see you, Mel, I was wondering if you’d use that card!”
Mel watched you beam, and it made her wonder what in the ever living fuck she was doing avoiding this place. You clearly were this place. You were in its fabric, warm and real and there for anyone to admire. She huffed out a breath and rocked on her heels.
“I was hoping you could help me find something.”
“Like what?” You rolled the cart away, unlocking her entry to the row. She was in scrubs again, top and bottom this time, and her hair was pulled back in a springing ponytail. Little tendrils of yellow coiled near her ears.
“I wanted to try something easy. I’m not a big reader, all I get around to are medical journals these days,” the doctor admitted.
Your fingertips buzzed with the request. To do the job you loved, to hunt down the perfect source, for the most gorgeous girl in the world was like hitting the lottery. “Oh, sure! What kind of genres do you like? Classics? Romance, fantasy, thriller?”
Mel blinked at your enthusiasm and flushed. “Uh, I like history, actually.”
Your lashes fluttered as you slipped past her and waved the girl down the aisle. “Historical fiction is an awesome genre. More research than you think goes into it, those authors spend forever getting the details accurate enough to plop a composite character in… ah, Ws, here– follow!”
Mel trailed after you like a puppy, because she would be a fool to waste this chance to watch your hips sway in that long satin skirt. You halted abruptly in the middle of the row, running your finger over some spines before plucking a green paperback off.
“How do you feel about Arthurian legends?” You asked, holding out the book to her. “This is a historical fantasy fusion. White used the legends from Malory and took them down in novel form so they would be easier to read. It redefined what a contemporary fantasy novel should be, it was a big hit, and now it’s a classic. I’ve read it a few times, it’s a favorite of mine.”
Mel flipped curiously through the pages, smiling to herself. “I’ve read the Death of Arthur, I had to in college. You like this better?”
Your eyebrow quirked in surprise. So she’s trained in some classics, you thought, that’s hot, and very good news. “Honestly?”
“Yeah.”
“Definitely. Malory is great, and you have to pay homage, but truthfully it's so dense that it feels like homework. This is a great way to enjoy the legends without torturing yourself.”
The doctor nodded thoughtfully and glanced back up to see your big eyes watching her every move. You had on a jean jacket tonight, with a little square neck tank underneath. You were what they tried to make librarians look like on television. You were unreal.
“I’ve never read it. But I think I want to, since you’re so good at selling.”
“Good choice,”
“Yeah, well, you made it for me.”
“I guess I did.”
Mel’s mouth tingled as she held the book under one arm and glanced you up and down. “Is this the sort of thing you read when you’re not working?”
With a hammering heart, you turned to weave back towards your restock cart. “I read all sorts of things.”
“Like what?” Mel hummed, following at your heels and watching you hustle. She ducked into the next row and followed the top of your head, catching quick glimpses of you between the books.
“Um, I mean, I love English classics a lot. I was always into them in college. But I love sci-fi and fantasy, realism, um, and plays, too. It’s hard to pick.”
Mel’s face opened wide with interest. “I guess you have to be well-read to be a librarian."
“It’s kind of a requirement,” you giggled, pausing and stacking a book into the space she stood across from.
“Makes sense. I never got much of a chance with med school, and now with my residency, but I’ve recently had some time free up, so I’m hoping it’ll keep me busy.”
“How long have you been a doctor?”
“I’m doing my third year residency, so technically three. I’ll get paid like one after my next year.”
You slid a few returns back onto the shelf and tugged the cart along, playing the game of predicting when Mel’s eye would peep through a space. “Wow. So you’re the real deal.”
“You could say that,” Mel nudged at the carpet with her toe, watching your manicured nails fill slots. “What about you? How long have you been a librarian?”
“Well, I started working here part-time when I got my bachelor’s, and I only just finished my master’s a little over a year ago. So that’s…” you did the mental math, “about four years.”
Mel toyed with her fingers, trying to expend the pent-up energy she felt just watching your sweet head try to remember the time passed. “And you like it?”
You tucked a lock behind your ear, a thoughtful expression creasing your brow. “I do. It can be difficult, especially recently with all the federal funding cuts. We rely on those a lot to help us give back to the community, y’know, with our events and stuff. We do a lot more fundraising now. But it’s all worth it, really. I get to be around books all day, and talk to interesting people from all over. It’s never boring like people assume libraries are.”
By the time you stopped, the doctor was at the end of the row and leaning against the shelves. Mel watched the way your mouth moved, rounding out vowels and punctuating each word with those plush lips. You chewed on them when you thought hard and she could tell. There were little red patches beneath your front teeth where you picked the skin. She could listen to you and watch that mouth move for hours. What a dream that would be.
“That’s great,” Mel said. Intelligent, she winced.
“Yeah,” you flushed and glanced at the cart. It was empty now. “Um, did– did you want to check that out?”
Mel stared at your mouth. “Huh?”
“The book.”
The girl snapped out of it and stood straighter, mustering a tiny chuckle. “The book! Yes. Definitely.”
Focusing hard on not tripping, you shot her a smile and dragged the cart back to the atrium where the desk was. Mel took her time to admire you as you scooted around, docking the cart against the wall and scurrying back to sit at the dusty desktop. Mel leaned on the counter and rested her chin in her palm, sliding the book towards you.
From beneath your lashes, your eyes fluttered up. The doctor was still grinning with her bunny teeth, and it was rapturous. “You remember the rules?” you solicited, taking the book and scanning the code on the spine.
“Due after three weeks, call or come in to renew,” Mel recited softly, “although I hope it shouldn’t take that long.”
“No shame. You’re busy cutting people open and touching their guts and stuff,” you smirked, click-clacking away on the computer.
Mel snickered softly. The sound drew her attention to your nails, which were a short shape with a deep blue polish, almost black, carving them out. The square edges were what made all the ruckus. She very quickly fell down a rabbit hole about those fingernails and what they might be capable of.
“Okay, Mel, you’re all set,” you quipped, pushing the rims of your glasses up the bridge of your nose. Sliding the book back into her hands, you promised, “It’s really good. Tell me how you like it.”
Her nails, barely manicured and bitten to the beds, looked awful compared to yours. Maybe you’d paint them for her if she asked. Maybe you’d make them pretty again. Something her patients could enjoy, and something that would remind her she could pull her life together if she tried hard enough.
“Mel?”
“Hm?”
“You zoned out for a second.”
“Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, brows jumping. “It’s been a long day.”
“I bet. You should go home, get some rest.”
Mel gazed down at you, all tucked into that desk chair like some guardian angel, and she felt threads that have been fraying for a while coming loose. It stoked a fire in her chest.
“It was nice to see you again,” she offered, smoothing her ponytail with her hand as she squeezed the book into her bag. “Have a good night.”
“Yeah, you too,” you sighed in a way that made your face turn pinker and her eyes shine brighter.
As Mel headed for the doors again, you called, “You’ve got three weeks!”
“I won’t need them,” Mel shot back, flinging a wink over her shoulder.
It was enough to knock you on your ass.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
Mel didn’t need three weeks. She blew through the stories in one day and came back on the second, itching for another chance to see you.
This was a bad idea, she knew it. You’ve never seen her out of her scrubs. Mel was not stupid, and it was very obvious that uniforms added a certain… attractiveness to people. Cops in their coats, firefighters in those pants, and doctors in their scrubs. All she had on was a pair of blue jeans and a grey shirt. Her hair was down in that wavy sort of way it dried, which wasn’t terrible, and she had found the one lipgloss she owned lost beneath her dresser, but other than that, Mel looked like anybody. She hoped you would recognize her. She hoped you would still smile how you did.
It was just past dinnertime on her second day off, and in the waning summer daylight, the library attracted plenty of business. When she came through the doors, there were clusters of cardholders all over the place; mothers and children reading picture books in the kids section, elderly couples puttering about, teenagers lounging on the couches and climbing up and down the stairs. It lightened her heart to see so many people using the building, because she thought it must make you so happy. Speaking of you… you weren’t behind the counter, once again.
Instead there was an older woman, a brunette with red-jelly glasses hanging from a beaded string. As the off-duty doctor approached the counter, the librarian looked up with barely an ounce of your enthusiasm. She asked after you, to which the lady only offered, “Third floor.”
That was a relief, at least– you were here. She had hoped she didn’t come too early. Her ‘thank you’ went unappreciated by the desk clerk, but she was too anxious to care. Mel trotted up the steps, peeking at the activity of college kids on the second floor– had to be the one with the study rooms, she figured– and crested the stairs on the third, looking for your cart or your head of hair or revelatory grin. She had to make a lap around the edges before finding you tucked away in the biology row. Quietly, she held onto the strap of her messenger bag and came closer. Seeing as you didn’t hear her footsteps on the wiry carpet, she took her chance.
“Hey, bookworm.”
She laughed as you jumped and let out a tiny yelp, but the look on your face was worth it. Your skirt fanned across the ground between stacks of donated textbooks, and the little platforms on your boots thunked the ground like happy tails as you beamed up at her. You recognized her, thank God.
“Hi, Mel!”
“Hey,” she melted, kneeling to sit beside you.
“What are you doing here? No work today?”
“Nope. Came to get a new book.”
“You finished it already? You’re screwing with me, right?”
“I did, and I’m not,” she chuckled, “it was really good.”
You gave her an incredulous look. “I’m impressed. You’re a fast reader. I bet that’s how you got through med school, huh?”
“Still is. I’m the only one who can get my charts done these days,” Mel jutted her chin, and when your head tilt led her to believe you didn’t know what charting was, her chest clenched tighter. “How’s it going?”
“Great, now that you’re here,” you gushed, pausing after you blurted it. Way to play your cards, you thought.
Mel’s throat jumped, and she ran her clammy palms down her jeans. “Actually, I didn’t just come to get a new book.”
You leapt at the chance to bury your lapse in judgement. “I can help you with anything you need, it’s my job.”
“Actually, um…”
It truly wasn’t fair how you could sit there, expression so trusting and aching for affection. She knew this was stupid. She’d only met you twice before. But there wasn’t a free second where her mind didn’t drift back to the warm, dust-mitey depths of the library, where you skittered around like a breathtaking thing, casting light everywhere you went. She was enamored with you.
You were in no better position, which would be nice for her to know. Historically, you never learned how to mask your emotions. When you were taken, it oozed from you in every direction, sinking into the music you had on repeat and the books you picked up, into the colors you wore, the way you did your hair. You wore love like a gift, and it was ridiculous and unfounded, but you couldn’t get enough of her. Just sitting there and waiting for her to speak was like being suspended in a state of bliss, where you had her attention and everything was alright.
Mel cleared her throat, lashes fluttering as her nose scrunched. With a big breath, she summoned the courage. “I was wondering if you’d want to go out. On a date. With– with me, like… romantically.”
What was that you heard? Angels humming? The trumpets of Heaven sounding over the galaxy, calling, Rise, people, rise, the girl is getting what she wants? Whatever it was, it was deafening. It sounded like the doctor’s voice, resonating inside your bones like a blessing.
“Yes,” you wheezed.
“Really? You’re into girls like that?”
“I am into girls, and I am incredibly into you. I want to go on a date. I really, really do.”
Mel was certain she would perish on the spot. That was a good reaction. “Well… great! Good! I– mhm,” she stammered, “a date. When? When can we go on a date?”
“I take an hour break in twenty minutes.”
Mel’s eyebrows shot sky-high. “Oh!”
“Too soon? Shit, sorry,” you chewed your lip, “I– you probably wanted to plan it, right? That’s fine, I can wait–”
Mel’s hands shot out to grip your arms, feeling the soft flesh as she halted your rambling before it could get going. “No. Twenty is fine. As long as you don't care that I’m in jeans.”
Your stomach flipped, and you couldn’t help how fondly the words slipped out: “You could be covered in blood for all I care.”
Mel laughed, “I usually am.”
The textbooks sat abandoned around your legs, and the thought of working another second made you nauseous. You wanted to leave now. You could hypothetically quit if it meant getting to a date with the beautiful doctor as soon as humanly possible. But before you could commit to a life-altering choice, Mel hopped to her feet and leaned down to tuck some hair behind your ear, as she saw you do before.
“I’ll wait downstairs. We can get something to eat when you’re done?”
You pushed into the touch like a shameless, shameless cat. “Please.”
“Okay,” she confirmed. “See you in a bit.”
“Yeah,” you pulled back, feeling her fingers slip from your hair.
Mel left you there like a lovesick pile of mush, practically skipping down the steps. In her head she began to run through every dinner option up and down the street, and then a five block radius, and whether you liked ice cream, or how strict you were about kissing on the first date. She nearly tripped over a child in the process, but it didn’t matter. She had a real date.
Life hadn’t felt this good in a long time.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
One date turned into three, and then five, and then you stopped counting. Whatever number tonight was might have been nice to know, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. All you knew was that this was the one, you told yourself. This was the night you would be brave enough to ask for what you want.
Things were going so much better than you could have hoped for. After a few weeks of meeting Mel after work, you started to wonder when it would go downhill. She was always so eager, bouncing on her heels and following you around the library, taking you out for ice cream, inviting you to watch television at her place. It all seemed so right, like she was meant for you, and the little voice in the back of your head thought surely no girl as wonderful as Mel could be sustained. But she stayed, and you were absolutely lost.
You had always loved girls, but never liked this. Her every move was magical. You could tell she probably had the touch for needles, because sometimes when she grabbed your hand, you barely felt it. Like air, brushing you affectionately. After the first few dates, it became second nature to pick up every habit. There were no bad ones. For example: Mel rubbed at her neck pretty often, and tugged the strings of her hoodie if available, because that was where her stethoscope sat all day, and it soothed her to feel the ghost of it. Another one was Mel’s tendency to stop talking when your eyes flitted away, assuming you had stopped caring, only for you to turn again and prompt her with a Keep going, I’m listening. Mel bit her fingernails enough that she always had on a layer of top coat to try and deter her by taste. Mel only liked hot coffee, never cold, but never hot tea, always cold, because of her passion for boba. Mel did not like romance books, but she loved history, and with enough prodding, you could get her to try anything. Mel never liked to see the same movie twice, she always wanted seconds when you cooked, and when she sneezed, her nose twitched once, twice, three times. From top to bottom, you memorized every action and reaction, every love and hate, and by the time three months of seeing her rolled around, you were utterly in love.
Tonight, Mel asked you to meet her in the park across from the hospital when you took your break. You walked down the street at lightning speed, thrumming with excitement at seeing her face. When you wound down the walkway, you spotted the girl in black scrubs perched on a drug-rug blanket. Your cheeks pulled tight with joy as you walked across the grass.
“Melly,” you sighed, “a picnic?”
The doctor was trying to arrange a handful of strawberries on a plate when she heard you. Her braid slipped over her shoulder as she sat back and patted the blanket, affirming your observation. There was a little cooler with two sodas, what looked like Chinese takeout boxes, and a whole lot of strawberries.
“Do you like it?”
You sunk to your knees on the ground and laughed sweetly, tugging her in to peck her lips. “I love it. This is so sweet.”
“Mira suggested it,” she flushed, “she’s a lot better with what to do on dates than me.”
“I knew I liked her. I’ll have to meet her.”
“Come to the hospital one day,” Mel offered, cracking open a can for you.
You took it gratefully and crossed your legs. “You want me to?”
“Sure. Whenever you want.”
You struggled to contain your blissful jitters as you sipped your soda. Mel had this habit of staring at you when she wanted you to do some talking, and she was employing the strategy now, sinking her teeth into a berry and tracking you with her hazel eyes. You hadn’t even eaten anything yet, but maybe that was better. Nothing to puke up if you got rejected.
“Mel, um, I was… I wanted to ask you something.”
“What’s up?” The doctor scooted closer and nudged the plate towards you, trying to make you pick up a bite. You felt the tip of her sneaker knock against your ankle, and part of you just wanted to die.
“Well, I guess– y’know, we've been seeing each other for a while.”
“We have,” she hummed, focus drifting to your mouth.
“And I really like you.”
“I like you, too.”
“We spend all our free time together.”
“We do.”
“Your sister likes me,” you added, reminiscing the movie night you shared with Becca and Mel a few weeks ago. You giggled your way through Elf like a champ in the heat of August.
“She does.”
“So… I… I mean… I guess what I wanted to say was…”
Mel’s smile grew wider and wider, and she could read it all over your face. Mel knew a thing or two about you– how you repeated yourself and trailed off when you didn’t want to say something, how you only liked the warm syrup in diners and never from a bottle because it ‘didn’t taste the same’, the way you took your iced coffee, your shoe size, the coworkers from the library who grinded your gears. Mel adored you like she never had anything in the world, and if you were about to ask what she thought you were, she was going to be made a very, very happy woman.
“Tell me,” she urged.
You locked eyes with her and took a deep breath, and you came straight out with it: “I want to be with you for real. Like a girlfriend.”
After a beat, the doctor asked, “Like a girlfriend, or my girlfriend?”
That was another thing. Mel often teased just to see you get annoyed.
“Oh, shut up! You know what I mean!”
She threw her head back in laughter and crawled across the blanket, knocking you onto your back. You fell with a thump, and with your hair all fanned out behind you, she could barely breathe.
“I would love nothing more than for you to be my girlfriend, and for me to be yours.”
Your heart soared. “You mean it?”
“Do I mean it?” Mel scoffed, and without warning, she dove down.
You surrendered to her mouth willingly, back arching off the ground as her lean, strong arms slipped beneath you to hold you tight and squeeze. She crowded you against the ground and ran her hands from the backs of your knees to the pits of your arms, screwing up your skirt and vest and eventually your hair. The sharp tang of fruit passed between your tongues as she worked your jaw open, and you whined softly into the mix, head reeling and hips aching. Mel had to find the strength to pull away because she had a creeping suspicion you would make out with her until you lost consciousness.
Panting through the rush, Mel confessed, “I might love you.”
It wasn’t too soon. Not at all.
“Might?” You smirked.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
With a couple months of dating under your belt, you were itching to see Mel’s workplace. She’d visited you at the library so many times now, exchanging books and following you around while you restocked or dusted or worked on table displays. She had kissed you in many a dark corner. But all you caught a glimpse of was her scrubs, and you were eager to see what life was like when she was working. You wanted to match names to faces and hear what she sounded like when she treated patients. It would be satisfying to know how accurate your image of her being the best living doctor was in person. You resolved to bring her an unannounced cup of coffee on a Wednesday midmorning, figuring it would be a safe enough time for a dull emergency room.
When you walked in the front entrance, the waiting area full of chairs was sparsely seated. The air-conditioning was out, which was unfortunate for such a warm October day, but you were emboldened by the idea she might not be busy. You had heard horror stories of Friday nights and weekends, and they seemed nothing like this.
As you approached the front desk, a short clerk with a name tag that read Lupe lifted her head in a comforting smile. Her finger flicked the microphone on, and she asked, “Checking in?”
You shook your head and held up the coffees in your hand, asking hopefully, “Um, no, I was hoping I could see Dr. Melissa King, if she isn’t busy?”
Lupe’s eyes narrowed in playful recognition. “Oh. You’re the librarian girl.”
Your face heated up in an instant. “Um… yes.”
“She never stops talking about you,” Lupe smirked. A buzzer rumbled the glass partition, and the lock on the door to your left clicked. “Go on in, honey, down the hall and to the right. The doctors at the nurse’s station can help you find her.”
“Thank you!”
The long, tiled hallway was relatively quiet, but the closer you got, the louder the beeping, humming, and buzzing became. You turned the corner and saw Mel’s world open up before you. A white hospital wing crawling with doctors and nurses barreled down and branched off. Patients on gurneys were passing by or stashed along the walls. You spotted four custodians wiping at the floor. All around was the bustle of a busy hospital, and you could barely imagine your mild-mannered girlfriend functioning in such a fast-paced environment. Her explaining it was one thing, but seeing it was another. It was just another reason to admire her.
You walked in, clutching the cups tight and avoiding oncoming healthcare professionals as they sped around the halls. At a big desk clump in the center, you saw a tiny blonde woman with an expression best described as having seen enough, and a tall, bearded man with a stethoscope around his neck and little professor-eqsue glasses perched on his nose. They were seemingly deep in conversation. A lightbulb flickered over your head, recalling a certain nurse and doctor who frequently get into it from Mel's tales.
“Excuse me?”
The pair whipped around at your voice, and the nurse smiled warmly. “Hiya, sweetheart. Lookin’ for a family member?"
“Hello– um, no. Is Dr. Melissa King around?”
The doctor squinted at you, a slow grin tugging at his cheeks. He outstretched a palm. “I’m Dr. Michael Robinavitch, and this is our charge nurse Dana Evans. You must be the girlfriend our Mel mentioned.”
You shook his strong palm nervously and nodded, ears burning. “The lady at the desk said the same thing…”
“Trust me, honey, that girl never shuts up about it. Robby can show you around, she’s with a patient.”
“I guess that works!”
Robby swooped out from behind the desk and gave you a wink, placing a courteous hand on the small of your back and guiding you down the hall.
“I hope you’ve never been here before,” he quipped.
“Oh, I haven’t. Lucky me.”
“Yes, lucky you. Mel is one of our best residents. Hard worker, fiercely intelligent, great with patients. How did you guys meet?”
You chuckled softly as you peeked down the halls, catching shadows of men and women in black scrubs hopping between rooms and nurses carrying clipboards around with an air of urgency. “If it’s what it sounds like, then Mel probably already told you that.”
“Can you blame me? It’s not every day that family comes to see us at our jobs. Most people stay away from the stress of this place. You must be a pretty special one to show up unannounced.”
You glanced up at Robby. His eyes were so dark, and something very calming settled over you. Mel once described him as ‘the hospital’s dad’, and you felt that was a very fitting image.
“Well, I thought it might be a nice pick-me-up. You work her pretty hard,” you quirked an eyebrow.
Robby’s laugh rattled in his chest. “Only because she’s the best to do it. You should see her in action. She’s one of the best I’ve seen in a long time, and I’ve been at this for thirty years.”
It made your whole body tingle with pride to hear Mel praised so genuinely. You knew she was good, you could just see it when you looked into her eyes; but to know other people thought so was twice as nice.
“She’s a wonderful person,” you gushed, following the curve of the hall.
“She says the same thing about you.”
Curtain areas full of beds stuffed with patients passed as you looped the department. A few doctors perked up at the sight of you, and it made your face glow– just how much did she tell them? Do they all have a picture of you in their wallet or something? You saw a few faces with details that rang bells– a pretty Indian girl, a brunet beanstalk of a man, a short farmboy type…
As Robby asked you about your job at the library, the nurse’s station came into view again, and you saw Mel standing at the desk, lording over a clipboard. Robby patted your back and whistled, “You have a visitor, Dr. King!”
Mel’s head darted up at the sharp sound, and you wished you had your camera out when her face twisted through a rapid set of surprise, confusion, and glee, all in a second. She abandoned her chart to rush to you, showing off her teeth.
“What are you doing here? Hi!” She exclaimed, hands hesitating between hugging you or taking the coffee first.
You put them both down on the desk and grabbed her face, pressing a soft smooch to the skin of her cheek. “I thought I’d surprise you. Dr. Robby was just showing me around.”
Robby threw Mel a wink and slinked away, looking like a happy little hyena. She burned bright red and groaned, “He didn’t say anything embarrassing, right?”
“Only that you talk about me nonstop. I think everyone knew me without even saying hello.”
Mel’s eyes blinked in horror. “I– well– it– y’know–”
“I think it’s sweet,” you giggled, wrapping the end of her braid around your finger. You leaned against the desk and cocked your head, studying how she looked no different– still beautiful– in a place that wasn’t the library, her place, or yours. “I hope this isn’t a bad time.”
“No, no, God no. My patients are all inbetween being observed. I’m good.”
“I brought you coffee,” you hummed, and Mel leaned in closer, seemingly charmed.
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too. Is there a rule against kissing in your hospital?"
“Probably,” she grinned.
You grabbed the ends of her stethoscope and tugged her in, slotting your mouth against hers. Mel let out a tiny grunt against your mouth, her voice thick and warm, and her hands slid around the soft stuff of your hips. Your nose smushed against hers and you sighed softly, relieved to finally have a fix again. Mel was two seconds away from shoving her tongue down your throat when another whistle sounded, starling you two apart like dogs.
“The lounge, Mel,” Robby called, his wolfish teeth peeking from behind a knowing look.
Mel could only wince and tug you along, grabbing her free coffee. “Come on. I’ve got twenty minutes.”
“I like him,” you teased, and Mel gave you a chiding glance as she dragged you towards the doctor’s lounge. “Can I meet the others?”
“Me first,” she purred.
˚₊‧꒰ა❤︎໒꒱ ‧₊
Mel’s bed was incredibly comfortable, especially in the slow transition to winter. You had come to appreciate this when you slept over after the fourth date, and even more after the fateful picnic, where the title of girlfriend raised the flag for you both to tear into each other in the way you’d wanted to for forever. As you lay in it now with one hand in the beautiful doctor’s hair and a book in the other, you hoped you might sleep in it for the rest of your life.
“You should really go to bed. It’s late,” Mel rasped, heavy eyes drooping.
“Says you. You’ve got work in four hours.”
“Well, I wanted to see you,” she murmured.
You put your book face-down on your thigh and coaxed your nails through her golden locks. “I know. You still need more sleep than me.”
Mel peeked up at you, seeing the enticing little roll of your chin that she wanted to climb up and bite. She let out a huff and rolled over, inching onto her knees and perching herself on your lap. You grinned and jutted your chin out as she leaned in to press a slow kiss to your lips, waking up the butterflies that had only just caught a break.
Against her lips you asked, “What are your days off this week?”
Mel’s hands sunk into your hair. “Mm… Sunday and Monday.”
You arched into her a bit and swiped your tongue along her bottom lip. “We can do something Sunday… park, zoo, something…”
“Stop talking,” she mumbled.
Mel loved to kiss you. You loved to kiss Mel. It was arguably what you did most, and for good reason. It had been a lifetime for you of wanting love and never getting it, putting your career first, hoping that one day someone would walk in and change everything. And with Mel losing her parents, and down the line her sister to another love, kissing you was her opportunity to finally regain the connection she had been searching for as life dragged her down. Here, in her bed, you could put your hands on her and find her perfect. She could squeeze your tummy and your thighs and mumble questions about books while she made you whine; she could tuck her fingers in warm places and tell you that you were everything she ever wanted.
Kissing and loving was so incredibly easy, and together you had realized that maybe everyone else was just stuck in a love that wasn’t the right kind. All this talk about making things work, about how work hours and separate lives can be too hard to reconcile, none of that made any difference to you. You worked nights at the library because Mel usually stayed late. You came home and ate eleven o’ clock dinners and slept in the same room. You woke with her to have coffee and fall back asleep when she left. On her days off she came to your job, and on yours you repaid the favor. Mel learned to take a day off now and again so she could live her life with you. Suddenly, in everything people said made love hard, you found moments that made the wait worth it. Months were a short period of time, but within them you realized how much real love smoothes the edges of everything, promising to get you through a hard day for the sake of coming home to a kiss. And it didn’t seem crazy at all, or impossible. Maybe it was a miracle, or maybe it was just Mel. These days, they felt one and the same.
When Mel pulled away, she tucked her face into your neck and peppered her lips across your collarbone. “Read to me?”
You melted like butter beneath her, and as she curled in your lap, you picked up the book again. She was a precious thing when her body was drained. “You’re so pretty. Did I tell you today?”
Mel grinned. “A few times, I think.”
“Well, you are.”
“So are you, bookworm,” she whispered, nudging up to kiss you one more time.
You released her with a sheepish expression and snuggled closer, finding your spot on the page. You would read until she fell asleep, and then you would shut the pages and stare at her face for a while until the image remained when you closed your eyes. And you would love her forever, because when you thought about the future, she was all you could see, stretching in an endless line. From where you stood now, it was easy to imagine. It felt good to think so.
A beautiful doctor and a librarian, you thought. That sounded like a good book.