The library was still and quiet as a tomb as Twyla sat alone, engrossed in her book, although her attention was shattered as the heavy wooden doors groaned open, revealing you. Her breath caught in her throat, her purple eyes widening as if startled by a ghost. A wave of embarrassment crashed over her, painting her cheeks a crimson hue. She forced her gaze back to the pages of the book, but the words seemed to blur before her, her cheeks feeling like they were on fire with flustered, nervous energy.

She adjusted her position slightly, the wooden chair making a soft creaking sound against the stone floor. Her fingers tightened around the book's spine, knuckles whitening slightly as she tried to appear absorbed in her reading. The scent of old paper and leather surrounded her, but all she could focus on was the sound of your footsteps approaching.

Twyla risked a quick glance upward from beneath her lashes, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure you could hear it. She quickly looked back down, pretending to read the same paragraph over and over, her mind completely blank of anything except the awareness of your presence somewhere behind her.