Melting in Your Words

All characters are over the age of 18. The characters and events present are created from my own overactive imagination and any resemblance to anyone is accidental. This story was created as a submission for the VALENTINES DAY 2021 competition. It has romantic love and is also my love letter to romantic and erotic literature. I look forward to seeing your responses in the comments. I hope you rate it highly and favourite it. I may write a sequel if there is interest.

23/02/21 Edit -- I have added in the name of the narrator for each section, whenever it changes. For first time readers the dual perspective has been causing confusion and I don't believe it is too disruptive to add the name (although the POV switches occur often during the ending). Thank you for reading and I hope this addition makes reading this story a smoother experience!

Ellie

It was a modern library I sat inside, sheltering from the darkness and the cold. The university had spent an extortionate amount building a new library that was ready to use as I was entering my first year. I had mixed feelings about it. On the one hand it was a beautiful and elegant modern building. Glass and panelling all the way up its exterior, multiple floors, walkways inside that circled around an open area, and more books than you could ever read.

Still, I had previously visited the old library a few times for the books that hadn't been transferred over and each time I went I felt a little melancholy that it was being replaced and made irrelevant. The old library was a big ancient brick building with tight twisting passages and books haphazardly shelved. Little cosy nooks and crannies that you felt rewarded for finding. It had a lot of character. A place like that seemed like it would suit me. What's more, there was a cute tabby cat that often lounged on the wall outside and was very willing to be petted when I walked past. He liked belly rubs and tickles behind the ears, in case you needed to know.

I could not imagine my feline friend acting that comfortable on the concrete outside the new library. Undoubtedly, both he and I had yet to find a place we could truly relax when it came to this modern library. Perhaps that was why I was struggling to work?

I banged my forehead on the hard table. Aiming to dramatically lay my head on it like a scene from a movie, I had succeeded only in making a loud "thud" noise and likely denting my forehead.

My little piece of performance was only for myself. No one was around to witness it. I had thought that acting out my frustration physically would help. It appeared it wouldn't be that easy.

The world looked odd from my horizontal viewpoint. I could see my laptop through the strands of hair that fell over my face but my gaze rapidly grew unfocused and I found myself staring out towards the bookshelves. They were blurry and difficult to see from this unusual angle. Suddenly feeling embarrassed by my public melodrama I quickly straightened myself up, smoothed out my jumper and skirt and brushed my hair back into place behind my ears. Returning my gaze to my laptop, the intimidatingly dense paragraphs of scruffy and uninteresting writing that greeted me almost encouraged me to return to sulking once more.

I really was struggling to make headway. Why was it taking so long to write a scene? I had done many one-shot scenes and short stories before, had I wrestled with those the same way? Romance novels were a new genre for me true enough, and I lacked useable experience, but as a first year we we're expected to go attempt multiple genres instead of going deep into any single topic like we would in later years when creating a manuscript. I suppose the university wanted all English Literature and Creative Writing students to experiment before settling into any particular genre. Experience is key after all.

I suppose my lack of experience really hurt me when it came to writing romance.

I was definitely someone who fitted into the typical "shy bookish" character. It was how I had grown up. Books and indoor activities were encouraged and I never really desired engaging in team sports.

Most of my life had centred around keeping quiet during class and doing the work, socialising with a few close friends I felt safe with, a quick burst of energy and freedom at badminton club before returning home to whatever quiet and introverted hobby was the focus at the time. That hobby was often, although not always, reading.

I think my family believed that I would change when I arrived at university. My mum definitely hoped I would gain some maturity, as she thought I was holding myself back from entering the "adult world", but so far their prayers had been unanswered. I was a bookish introvert and that was fine. Why leave what you knew?

I hadn't joined any societies and pushed myself out of my comfort zone and I certainly wasn't one to start a relationship. I had partied and clubbed a bit but soon found it not entirely to my liking, at least staying out all night and getting horrible drunk. Dancing and partying wasn't the worst thing in the world though. At least I could have fun without struggling to make my way through a conversation.

I suppose it is ironic, my inability to speak, given my name.

Oh yes, I'm sure Ellie doesn't sound like it has any ironic connotations. What does the shortened version of the name Eleanor have to do with speaking? Nothing. But my name isn't short for Eleanor, my parents aren't that normal. No, I am named Eloquence...yep. Ellie short for Eloquence. How pretentious does that make me sound?

Thinking about having to introduce myself to people that way made me cringe in my seat. As I did I realised I had daydreamed about the reasons I wasn't writing for far too long. That was how I was. I really did like to go on tangents. I guess that was just something I had always-

"Ahem."

I was about to let my thoughts stray onto another tangent, as usual. It likely would have lasted a long time, and led onto another. After hours of introspection mixed with brief periods of staring at a screen I would have left the library, frustrated with my lack of progress. In the darkness I would have trudged back home to my student accommodation, deciding to give it a rest for today. Progress on my short romance scene would have halted, for now and who knows when it would have picked up again.

As it happened, I was not destined to do any more creative writing that day regardless, but because of a very different distraction.

Standing over me, politely clearing her throat, was a tall, dark haired girl. Should I say woman? Well, she didn't seem older than me by much, so I was hesitant to add her to such a category. Actually, as a university first year, could I not be classified as a woman myself? Still she did seem far more mature.

Cool office attire clad her obviously curvaceous figure. Heels, tights, black pencil skirt, and a beautifully fitting white blouse. It may have been predictable, maybe even cliché, female office attire but on her attractive form and compared to the frumpy and comfy look of the older librarians, she stood out.

I could tell she was a librarian from the stack of books she carried both in her arms and on a metal trolly. A lanyard and nametag hung from her neck and identified her as Aristeia. A beautiful name for a stunningly attractive and mature looking librarian. A librarian, no woman -- she deserved that title with respect -- who was currently clearing her throat to gain my attention.

I pulled out my earbuds to make it clear I was listening but they had not been playing music for some time.

"Uh, hello?" Was my fantastic first line.

"Hi there, sorry to bother you it's just that I could see that you seem to be struggling. You're experimenting with romance like the other first years, right? The single scene challenge?"

She was right, so I blustered a hurried "yes" and a nod in response. It was a yearly module so it made sense she would know if she was older than me, and it was possible she had seen the multiple online articles about how to write in the genre that I had been pulling up on my screen.

She smiled, "Well have you read 'Writing Love: 101 Ways to Be Romantic'? It's quite a good overview and it goes into some great ways to plot your story beats and do descriptions. Also..." She started, adding a conspiratorial whisper and leaning towards me, "not many first years take a look at it so it marks you out as going beyond the reading standard list if you use its techniques. I've just had this copy returned and processed so I'm on my way to put it back on the shelf but perhaps you'd like to borrow it instead?"

Saying this she separated a book from the bottom of her pile and held it out.

I hadn't read the book she had mentioned, so I shook my head in answer to her first question but then I realised I should actually be thanking her for her more recent offer. Did shaking my head seem like I was refusing? I hurriedly took the book from her outstretched hand without really looking at it before saying "thank you" emphatically.

I was getting flustered. I could feel it. Was it just having such a sudden conversation? I felt unprepared and my heart was pounding looking up at this woman.

I let out a little breath and allowed myself to calm down. Her gesture was a nice one so I should take the effort to respond to her properly.

"I was definitely struggling to find good sources so thank you for this!" I said tapping the book, now clasping it between both hands.

She readjusted her grip to help hold the rest of her stack of books and smiled back.

"The pleasure is mine. It's my job so I can hardly resist the urge to help out. I'm not able to recommend too many books outside my area of study, but I did English Lit and Creative Writing for my undergrad and I'm doing my MA in Literary Studies so feel free to ask if you need a hand anytime."

"I certainly will A-Ariste-ia." I said, pointedly looking at her nametag, just so she knew it was the first time I was learning her name.

"Please, call me Ari. I think my parents were having a bit of a joke when it came to my name." She said laughing. Laughing in a way I had never done about my own name.

"I-I'm Ellie...um...short for Eloquence. -probably the same joke as yours." I said, cringing and physically wincing about how horrible it sounded out loud.

"Short for Eloquence? Really?" Oh god I wanted to shrivel up. "That's a very pretty name." Huh?

I looked at her surprised.

"I've never heard someone named that before so you'll definitely stick in my mind." She replied, grinning.

"Come over to the front desk when you want to take the book out. It's pretty dense so you might not get through all of it tonight...And I guess since I'm giving it to you, you don't know where it came from to put it back." She added as an afterthought to herself. She really was quite confident and mature. Not in an overly outgoing way but she could handle herself easily. Despite it seeming that she was only two or three years older than I was, labelling her as a "woman" and still considering myself a "girl" certainly did seem to fit in my mind.

Her job done she said a quick "see you later", which I returned, and then went off with her stack of books and trolley. I watched her glide over to the glass barrier that overlooked the entrance. For a moment she was framed on either side by bookshelves and with the opposing walls providing a white and distant backdrop. Her eyes flicked back in my direction for a brief fraction of a second before turning the corner and disappearing behind shelves, heading in the direction of the lifts.

I smiled to myself at the thought that she would be waiting for me at the counter when I left later tonight. That thought was a pleasant one but my happiness at the possibility did cause a slight blush to work its way up my neck. Trying to ignore it I turned back to the book she had given me, ready to get to work.

However, as I have already mentioned, I would not actually resume research on how to write romance that day. As much as I had planned to.

No, I would not study the construction of romance novels in those late hours to progress my ability to write. I would not expand my skillset, although I suppose I would end up expanding my knowledge.

The book that greeted me was not the one I had expected. 'Writing Love' did not greet me. There were not hundreds of tips on how to construct romance, nor any great insight on the genre conventions inside this book. My eyes went wide at the cover, and the blush that had been kept on my neck since meeting Aristeia suddenly rushed to overflowing my face.

This books... this book was!

Ari

Fuck! Oh fuck, I'd messed up. Oh shit this was really bad! She was kind of cute looking all tired out but hard working so I had made a mistake. Oh god Ari, what have you done?

I sat at the library counter staring at 'Writing Love: 100 Ways to Be Romantic'. I was turning it over and over in my hands as if doing so would magically change it into another book and my panic would have all been caused by a trick of the light.

Having retreated to my desk after noticing one particular book was missing the rest of the stack of books now lay in a messy pile next to me. Even as I had searched through them I knew the whereabouts of the one I was missing. It was sods law. If I was going to accidentally give her any book, it was going to be that book. The one I had kept hidden at the bottom of the pile, where my arm could hide the name upon it's spine while I carried it.

Currently, that first year, was sitting in a library after having just been handed a book titled 'Dripping Words', a lesbian erotic romance...that I'd fucking "recommended"!

Oh my god!

She would know I had made a mistake, right? We'd discussed what the correct book was so she wouldn't think that I'd purposefully given her an erotica, right? Unless she thought all of that was some elaborate cover for giving her the book she'd ended up with. Would she think that I was hitting on her in a roundabout way?

I scratched my head vigorously and messed up my hair. What was until a few moments ago straight presentable hair, was now the intensely frizzy mess of a mad woman. I rushed to get my brush out to repair the damage, as if brushing my hair would ease both my messed up style and the problem of the misplaced book.

After I'd noticed my mistake and searching through my pile I had headed back to her seat twice but the first time she was missing and by the second visit other students had arrived around her. At that time she had been reading intently. Probably reading a book that would actually help her with her writing and attempting to drown out the embarrassing situation I had put her in.

Because she had seemingly gotten back to work and the awkwardness of having a conversation about a missing erotic book around others, I hadn't had a chance to apologise and correct my mistake. Instead I simply had to sit and let my brain fizzle in embarrassment.

You wouldn't expect a university library to have "smut" in its collection but due to our large and thriving literature department we had plenty of fiction of all types on the shelves. Erotica was one of the smaller sections within that, necessary for some modules from a very adamant professor, or so I'd heard. Professor Karl-something I think? I'd never taken a module for him personally and I'd never borrowed them for my own use. The erotic books were rarely borrowed and I blushingly restocked them as quick as I could when they were returned.

...Not out of embarrassment for the content inside, I should add. I am perhaps, well acquainted with that type of literature, you might say. Ah who am I kidding. I read a lot of it. Which isn't unusual for women might I add! Romance and erotica are mostly read by women! The statistics say so. Still, evidently, I feel the need to justify my interest...

I'd never borrow any erotica from the university library, of course. Borrowed books can be seen by the people who work here let alone when you physically walked around with them. It was mostly digital for me. Regardless, many of the titles we had in stock were familiar to me. The "Dripping Words" series was certainly familiar to me.

I'll admit the title felt a bit too on the nose for me. It advertised too overtly that its content was sexual. I like to be teased with a title. I mean sure Dripping words fit a series about two women slowly developing a romance over sharing feedback on novels they are writing. But there are better options, right? Why not, 'The Power of Pens', or 'Literary Bonds' or 'Connected Words'?

Wow, all of those sounded really generic, didn't they? Okay... not my best I'll give you that. I dunno, I just thought there were possibilities there yet unexplored.

Title aside the series was pretty good. Not a favourite or anything but still, a good work. The first book was exciting and I still was amazed at how the sequels remained entertaining even after the main pair hooked up and answered the "will they, won't they" question. The sex scenes were pretty hot...that bookshop scene...hmm...

I shook myself, most likely messing up my hair again. Eugh, now is not the time to reminisce about that series when its first entry is currently in the possession of a probably quite embarrassed first year. I sighed deeply.

I had likely ruined my chances of a friendship with that girl and failed in my attempt to academically help her. She would quietly return the book to the shelf using its reference number (oh god had I inadvertently forced her to take a trip to the erotica section?) and then use a self-service machine to scan and borrow her actual useful book.

Oh well, my shift would be over in two hours. Luckily I didn't have to do an overnight shift so I could still study tomorrow. My embarrassment would fade and life would be back to normal soon.

Or so I had thought, before I heard a very quiet and uncertain "Ahem."

I looked up. It was her!

"It's you!" Wow, real smooth Ari. "Um- oh, Eloquence wasn't it?" She visibly cringed, oh god, she really was embarrassed. Had she simply chosen handing the book back to me the lesser of two evils when compared to going to the erotica section?

"Um...yes. Um could you call me- Would you mind- No never mind..." She seemed about to say something then made the decision not to mid-sentence. A thought flickered to my mind.

"Oh! You introduced yourself as Ellie right? Sorry, if you want to be called that of course I will. Eloquence is just so memorable." Eesh. What an awkward recovery. Still it seemed to gain a good response from her.

She straightened her body in something near pride as I acknowledged her chosen name and then curled up again embarrassed as I complimented her name. What a meddlesome, if entertaining, reaction. I decided to plough forward, even at the risk of embarrassing her. I had to make things clear.

"Listen," I moved closer with a whisper even though there was no one in the main lobby area, "I'm so sorry about that book. I meant to recommend the one I told you about, this one! That other book was just one I was returning to the shelf. I'm sorry that it probably embarrassed you, and likely was no help for your creative writing." I added as an afterthought.

She blushed in response as Dripping Words was brought up and eyed me warily but gradually as I finished my explanation she calmed down. This really wasn't the impression I'd been hoping to make but at least I had cleared things up.

She forced a laugh out unnecessarily in response and I watched as her eyes flicked all around the lobby, only occasionally flicking to me.