Loud Love

“For the last time, keep it down! I will remove you from this library myself if I must,” Ms. Whittaker warned, her hands circling with blue magick that burned brighter than any flame. 

Farrah ducked her head and apologized. Miles, however, hid a smile behind his hands. Ms. Whittaker’s eyes narrowed briefly before turning on her heels and stalking away. Ms. Whittaker, a notorious librarian at Epileum Academy for the Magickal, hated everyone and everything. Despite being barely older than a graduated student, she saw them all as threats to destroying the sanctity of the library. Rumor had it, she could hear a book spine crack from the other side of campus and get there within a minute to snatch it back. Honestly terrifying considering the campus was a square mile wide. 

As the click of her shoes echoed faintly, Miles began to snicker. Farrah’s face turned redder than the setting sun as she shared his smile. She smacked his arm.

“Will you shush?” she snorted, collapsing into a fit of silent laughter. 

“I can’t help if it’s funny!” Miles chuckled.

Farrah shook her head, swallowing her laugh and drying her eyes. “It is not funny. That poor boy is gonna get eaten alive. What did you tell him to do?”

Miles raised his brows, mischief dancing in his eyes. “I told him to make it big, loud, and public.”

Farrah’s hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with amusement. “She’ll kill him,” she whispered. Miles threw his head back, laughing harder. 

As if on cue, the upper-level entrance doors flew open, confetti flying in as if blown by the wind. Ms. Whittaker hated mess. Farrah’s brows shot to her hairline, her chest practically vibrating as she smothered a laugh. Miles, however, cackled loudly as Professor Theodore stumbled into the library. He was the youngest professor at Epileum, taught horticulture and magickal creatures, and was the clumsiest person any student could ever meet. 

Professor Theodore straightened up, his glasses were askew and his hair wild. A massive grin broke out across his face. “Ophelia Whittaker! You beautiful specimen!” he shouted across the deadly silent library. Ms. Whittaker’s mouth was agape, her ears red and brows furrowed. Magick sparked at her fingertips.

Farrah couldn’t contain her laughter any longer. Neither could many of the once-studying students, it seemed. 

“I have fallen for you Ophelia!” His voice boomed in all their ears as students in suits slowly trickled in behind him. Miles snorted loudly. Suited students flicked their wrists in unison, instruments appearing from thin air. 

Farrah nearly burst into tears of pure amusement. “He got the orchestra?” she asked in complete disbelief.

Miles gave her a quick glance, not wanting to take his eyes off the show. “I owe a few band kids favors, but it was totally worth it,” he said, proud of himself. Farrah shook her head, impressed with the lengths he went to. 

Professor Theodore sauntered over to the curved staircase, leaning against the handrail. The orchestra began playing. String symphonies played notes that glittered in the air, floating down towards Ms. Whittaker, encircling her desk. Farrah could see the fury rise in the librarian’s body, but the shock held her still. 

The professor snapped his fingers, flowers appearing in his hand. He smiled goofily to himself and pushed himself onto the handrail. There he sat, sliding down the curved railing, with a crooked grin that reached his eyes, perfect posture, and flowers. Farrah would have called it sweet if the recipient wasn’t dreadful. 

When he reached the bottom, he hopped off the rail and practically skipped over to his beloved, only tripping twice. A fire raged in Ms. Whittaker’s eyes, her hands already flexed to cast whatever horrible curse she could. Magick slithered up her arms like snakes made of smoke. Farrah leaned closer to Miles, waiting for something absolutely terrible to happen. 

The professor approached and thrust forward the flowers. His glasses slipped down his nose, which he tried to remedy, but his hand hit the bouquet. As the music swelled loudly, the floral arrangement smacked Ms. Whittaker square on the nose and the professor’s glasses clattered to the floor. His face turned as red as hers, for very different reasons.

“I am so sorry, Ophelia. My palms are a bit clammy. You make me nervous, you see, and I currently cannot,” he rambled. “Can you point me to my glasses? The floor is blurry.” 

Farrah buried her face in Miles’ shoulder, smothering the urge to cringe, laugh, and cry all at once. She looked up once more, needing to know how it ended. Ms. Whittaker slowly bent over, picking up his glasses and holding them out. The kindest gesture Farrah had ever seen her do. 

“Ah!” Professor Theodore exclaimed as he pushed them on again. “Wonderful. Now I can see those beautiful eyes of yours.” Ms. Whittaker made no expression, nor a move to stop him. “Ophelia. I have been falling for you since we first met during the training week, when Headmistress Oakham asked what your goal at Epileum was.” Professor Theodore’s shoulders relaxed, a gentle look crossed his eyes.

He leaned forward. “Do you remember what you said?” Ms. Whittaker’s angry blue magick calmed, fading to something that resembled the sky. The wisps of magick retreated to her palms. 

“That you would protect history or die trying,” Professor Theodore continued. “It seemed dramatic, but you looked so serious I couldn’t help but admire you.”

Farrah turned to Miles, who was no longer laughing. His face was one of intense focus and soft emotions. His plan had not gone the way he thought it would.

Holding out the bouquet of flowers once more, the professor asked, “Will you please do me the honor of going on at least one date with me?” Ms. Whittaker’s posture relaxed, the magick no longer danced at her fingertips.

Students all around leaned forward, anticipating her yelling and scolding. Ms. Whittaker continued to stare blankly at her suitor as the orchestral music continued to play its glittery notes quietly. 

“Yes,” she answered flatly. “I’ll go on a date with you. But you are still banned from the library for the glitter and the noise and the pollen.” 

After a moment's hesitation, likely to figure out what just happened, a cacophony of clapping echoed against the books and shelves. Professor Theodore jumped around, hollering with joy. Miles’ mouth fell open, utterly. 

Miles pointed at the couple, shaking his finger. “How the he-”

“Miles, don’t ask questions. Just let it happen,” Farrah chuckled. She joined the clapping, shouting her congratulations to the professor and librarian. 

Professor Theodore, finally noticing Miles, gave a thumbs up. Ms. Whittaker’s neck snapped to face the couple. She glared for a moment before her face softened and she smiled gently. Farrah had never seen her smile before. But the joy only lasted for a moment. 

Ms. Whittaker snapped her wrist backwards. The sound from the instruments halted. The confetti raised slowly in the air before flying out the door with a push. She nudged Professor Theodore away, who gleefully hopped up the stairs and out the door. 

“This is a library!” the librarian called out above the crowd. “So shut it!” She pointed directly at Miles and Farrah as if a warning about what she would do if they made noise. Turning on her heel, she stalked back to her desk. 

Farrah leaned on Miles’ shoulder. “You did the math wrong, but you got the right answer,” she told him. 

Miles rested his head atop hers. “Don’t tell the gang. Especially not Jonah and David. They’ll laugh at my failures.”

Farrah smiled. She would most certainly be telling them.