Page 1 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

1. A Nice Girl in a Dirty Back Alley

I severely detest being a cliché, yet why shouldn’t I do what I want? So here I am, taking a long lunch, spending my time in an alley behind a bunch of stores on Queen Street West. Moving my camera in circles, I scanned for highlights shining in the chipped paint. The flat concrete creates wonderful contrast, allowing the colors to pop magnificently.

Yes, I’m taking photos of distressed walls, like 4,875 other ‘artists’ probably are right this second.

The mural itself isn’t particularly inspired, but this off-kilter corner with hot pink swirls gleaming against the dull blue and gray – I feel like it’s a slice of graffiti heaven on earth.

Perhaps it might seem a little obsessive compulsive, trying to get the perfect blend of natural and tropical colors out in the urban landscape. But it’s my meditation, my escape from a life that I’m not sure I’m comfortable in anymore.

Plus, I print a new photo every week and tape it outside the glass of my lizard’s terrarium so that Lizzie has new scenery. Her life in the pet store was pretty boring, I assume, especially since she may have been there a while. I figure since she only has three legs and two square feet of space to toddle around in, the space should look interesting, and change weekly. She deserves some variety in her life.

So does Keira , the back of my brain yelled at me. I had woken up this morning with a strange buzzing in my head, as if my soul were itchy. It had finally dawned on me that if I needed a big life change, I was going to have to actually change things. Be productive. Focus. Push myself. This morning I actually announced my intentions to my mug of tea. “New energy, challenge myself, bigger steps, break habits and come out of my shell,” I had told my steaming oolong. Taking a long lunch to take photos wasn’t a huge step toward change, but it was a start.

Wondering if I could crop the bit of mint green out of the photo, I noticed a tiny ant in the area I wanted to shoot. After taking a few snaps with my miniscule model as the star, I waited patiently for him to meander out of my way.

I shuffled closer, then got on my knees. I’d get back to work with alley grunge on my tights, but nobody would care. Their heads were all so far up their asses, I could be dripping blood and they wouldn’t notice. Stop thinking about work , I thought, as I focused my attention completely on the shot. Thanks for the hustle, little ant. Maybe there should be a more orange in this one.

Suddenly a crunch and gasp came from right behind me. I jumped, falling forward hard on my left hand. I heard myself shriek as my palm ground into the gravel. Thank goodness I had the camera on a neck strap, so it was saved.

“Oh, shit, I’m so sorry!”

I turned to look up into a beam of light. It was a man, but the sun was behind his head so I couldn’t see his face. A hand appeared before me, and I instinctively took it to stand.

“Are you okay?” The voice was low, gritty, but so rich that he sounded like a movie trailer announcer. Once I blinked twice, I could see him. Then I had to blink twice again.

There was too much to take in. His huge eyes were too dark. His skin was a bit pale. His dark hair was short and styled, but his face was half covered in a scruff of unkempt three-day beard. He was quite tall, well over six feet, lean and fit, with sturdy shoulders, and those full, kissable lips called to me like a magnetic pull.

He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen in my life. Although the original glow around him was a trick of the light, he had that… thing. That movie star quality that made people on the street stare. And he was speaking to me. I felt it deep within me, stirring something that I’d nearly forgotten about. Desire.

“Are you okay?” he repeated, concerned. He was still holding my hand and that simple touch was electrifying.

“Yeah, sorry. You startled me.”

He smiled, lighting up the dirty alley. “I almost tripped on you. I’ve never seen anyone taking such intense pictures of a filthy wall.”

I smiled back, and shrugged. “It’s weird, but I adore crumbling paint and stone.”

He nodded. “I get that. The weathered look. I like architecture that has just a bit of crumble to it.”

---