From Your Secret Admirer posted by Nanda

I can recall, all those hours, minutes, seconds, that I spent looking at him from afar. Behind the tall bookshelves of the library, among dusty books I would peek, just to catch a glimpse of him. I would stand there, or when my feet would start to hurt, I’d sit on the plain floor at an angle where I can continue my ‘silent’ watching.

He’s always there, on Monday mornings, sitting on the seat I loved to call his ‘favourite spot’. Although I didn’t know if it was his favourite spot or it was just the only space vacant at the times he chose to visit the library. Eyes furrowed, staring seriously at the laptop in front of him, sometimes casually flicking through pages of his book. On some days a friend would also be sitting there, but my ultimate focus was on him. It always was.

I didn’t know what pulled me towards him. Sometimes my lips would paint a small smile on my face, when he nods his head, apparently he found what he was looking for in his book then he would type away as if there was no tomorrow. He looked a little childish at those times. It even made me giggle. Maybe it was his simple self, wrapped up in whatever he’s doing at the moment, that completely enchanted me. Or the way he takes of his glasses and closes his eyes.

And then one day… our eyes met. I cursed under my breath as my heart skipped a beat and my stomach filled with the annoying butterflies. I awkwardly concentrated on the book in front of me and tried not to look at him again. One glance and it nearly took my breath away.

He’s a stranger!

I kept on yelling that in my head. But the fuzzy warm feeling won’t step away…

Quickly, I scribbled a little note on the piece of paper I ripped from my book.

I love you.

Your Secret Admirer.

My hand was trembling as I hesitated. I must have lost my mind, thinking that I could just walk up to him, give a pretty smile, drop the note on his table and walk away. Did I hit my head or something? I tore the note into pieces and left my hiding place. Yes, between the bookshelves with dusty books. I looked forward to next Monday. Always.