Casey wished she had brought her sketchbook down with her as she watched her brother race up and down the pool. There were very few guests swimming, so he had most of the pool to himself. Every now and then he would swim up to the side and playfully splash her, and she would do the same back. It was a good quality pool, large and clean, and the room was fairly well lit from a vast glass window in the wall by the deep end. The walls were decorated with Victorian tiles, and Casey kept staring at them, imagining copying the patterns. She was not too bothered about the swimming, although she was quite enjoying the water swirling around her ankles that she was dangling over the side.
“Look, Erri, I’m going to go and get dressed now,” she called to her brother. “I’ve got homework to do.”
“Okay,” he replied, and Casey forced herself to stand up and leave the pool. As she dried her hair, she turned her mind to her English essay. She was having trouble finding sources to quote; her lecturer had suggested browsing a library for anything that took her fancy. Casey had not had an opportunity t sign up for the local library yet, and besides she didn’t want to leave the hotel with Erri still here; she would look at the hotel’s library. From what she had seen of it, the only books in it were decades old, which should at least make her work unique to her classmates’ whose sole source was Google.
As Casey entered the library, she saw that it was not empty. Searching shelves was a young man, several years older than her, who turned and smiled at her. “Afternoon.”
“Hi,” Casey replied, not wanting to be rude. “Sorry, am I disturbing you?”
“By no means. Go ahead.”
She began browsing the shelves, but could feel his eye on her. After a few minutes she turned round and, seeing that she was looking at him, he quickly diverted his gaze.
“Can I help you?” Casey asked.
“I’m fine, thank you,” was the reply. Casey continued to study him. There was a distinct blush creeping over his cheeks and he was now carefully looking anywhere but at her. Seemingly to grab it as n excuse, he removed his glasses and started to polish them on his jacket sleeve.
Casey put her mind back on her work. He was kind of cute, she admitted, but she knew the rules.
Another few minutes passed, and Casey began flicking through the books, before there was another interruption. “Ms Tyrrims?”
Casey looked up, and out of the corner of her eye she saw the man beside her react violently, dropping the books and papers he was holding at his feet. “Yes?”
“Call for you at reception,” her boss answered. Casey stifled a sigh. She desperately needed to change her mobile, the reception here was awful. “Okay, thanks.” She replaced her book on the shelf and made to leave, but a hand grabbed at her arm.
“Your name’s Tyrrims?”
Startled, Casey stared at the man. “Yes – I – Let me go.”
He dropped her arm. “My apologies, I didn’t mean to – I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
“Not much.” Casey sent him a glare “Who are you?”
“Samuel Willoughby.” He held out his hand, but Casey didn’t take it, and he let it fall to his side again. “I’m sorry – could I -”
“Excuse me, I’ve got a call waiting,” Casey said, and hurried out of the library.
