I Have a Crush on the Librarian.

I don't eat lunch.

I know what you're thinking, but I'm not anorexic. I don't have an eating disorder of any sorts. I eat breakfast, the most important meal of the day, they say. I eat dinner, and I often sneak food into my classes after the lunch period. None of the teachers notice, anyway.

So why, you ask me, do you not eat lunch?

Well, the answer is quite simple. Food isn't allowed in the library.

Every day, except for going to the lunchroom and eating, I'd much rather go to the library.

My friends are used to this by now. Sure, they were disappointed when I wouldn't sit with them, but they soon got over it and moved on with their life.

The first time I went to the library during lunch was about a week after school started. I had to make up a test, so instead of going to lunch, I went to the library and finished it.

The library is really peaceful, I can think clearly, and nobody can bug me there.

Though, those reasons don't compare to the real reason why I stay.

I hear you breathe by my ear. I ask whether or not I should tell them in the beginning, or make them wait and find out for themselves. "You're the author," you whisper sweetly in my ear. I sigh and look down at the keyboard.

The real reason why I stay is a person.

A man, to be more specific.

He’s the Librarian.

Not many librarians are males. So that's what really caught my eye, that first day I walked into the library.

There he sat, his feet up on the desk. He was reading a really big book. It looked like he was reading War and Peace or a giant bible. His raven black hair was over his eyes, and I wondered how could read. On his chest sat a name tag. It said "Librarian" in large print. Arial Black, I believe. I knew this because at the start of the summer I decided to remember the entire font names on Microsoft Word and match them to the correct fonts. It was just a something that would make feel proud and feel like I accomplished something.

Under the Arial Black text was "Mr. Way" written in sharpie. The writing was italicized, slanting to the right. The "M" had pointed tops, but when in lower point, it curved, like a half-circle. The Capital letters were very large next to the smaller, lower-case letters.

I tried to place the font. It resembled Bradley Hand, in the way it was messy, but neat. Yet, at the same time it reminded me of Forte, the way it was slanted.

I searched my mind, trying to figure out what font it resembled most, but I couldn't place it. I either didn't remember enough fonts, or maybe there hadn't been a font that could match it.

Mr. Way looked up, he caught me staring. I looked down at my shoes, and then walked to a table. I sat at an old table that wobbled. It had many signatures adoring it. "Jane was hurr", "This place sucks", "I <3 J.U.", and the oh-so original "Ms. Maurer is a female dog."

I smiled in spite of myself as I started to work on the test.

I came the next day. And the next. And the next. Going home everyday and checking my favorite website, one that listed every font style known to man.

I could never find one that could match.

I'm pretty sure that was the reason I kept going back. I'd get that rickety old table, the one where I could watch Mr. Way and his name tag. I'd observe it and go through a list of font names in my head. I could never find a match. So I'd go home, his signature still in my mind, and look for the match.

That was a long time ago. I come to the library now for different reasons.

I have a crush on him.

It frustrates me, though. All the girls have a crush on Mr. Way. I couldn't help but feel like one of crowd, nothing special, and I hated that.

You put your hand on my shoulder. You read what I had written. You look at me sadly and tell me that I am special. I give you a small smile and you smile back. I start to type again

But what angered me most, was that all the girls didn't know him. They just thought he looked good, and they didn't know what he was like. They didn't know his thoughts, his dreams. Why he got the job at the school, his likes and dislikes. It made me angry, because I knew that I deserved him more than they did.

I never did anything, though.

I'd come to the library during lunch and after school. We'd talk softly, at first about our taste in books, bands, everything. I learned that we had similar tastes. Then it got more personal.

He told me about his brother, his family. He told me that he was an artist. He wanted to start his own cartoon, or his own comic. He wanted to do something that would make a difference. I asked him what difference a comic or a cartoon could make.

Everything, he told me.

He told me he wouldn't be who he is today if it weren't for comic books and cartoons. He said that they made a real impact on his life. It sounded silly back then, but now I can truly understand.

I told him about my interest in font styles. He didn't know what they were at first, so I explained them to him. He thought that it was very interesting. The next day I brought in a list of fonts and taught them to him. I pointed to the word "Librarian" on his name tag.

"That font is Arial Black," I said.

"What's the difference between Arial black and Arial just bolded?" he asked, puzzled.

I giggled. I told him the lines were thinner, even if they were bolded. He didn't look like he believed me, but he didn't say anything else about it.

You chuckle lightly. I stop typing and look up at you. I ask you what's so funny. You say that you remember that day; you say you went on your Word program and checked for yourself to make sure that I was right. I giggle at you, and continue.

My feelings for him started to grow, but I never told him. I didn't tell anybody. Even though it felt like love, I kept telling myself it wasn't. I told myself that he couldn't possibly like me as anything other than a weird boy who tries to remember every font.

It was a few weeks ago when it happened. He asked me what my favorite font was. I thought about it a long time. I told him Porky's. He started to laugh at me. I pretended to pout; I told him that he hurt my feelings. He asked me what it looked like. I took a bookmark that he had and tried to spell out his first name in the font style Porky's on the back.

The edges were round, kinda like bubble letters. They were bold, and each letter went in a different direction. Some leaned to the right, others to the left.

I wrote out Gerard in Porky's.

I love his name. I love the way it rolls of my tongue. I love the way it sounds, the way it's spelled. Most of all, it looks best in every font. Even in my rough imitation of Porky's.

You beam, proud.

The Porky's looked horrible, so I take him by the hand to the computer. I sit down in the chair and type in the address of the website that lists every font.

I show what Porky's really looks like. He tells me that he can see why I like it. I grin, and I start to scroll up.

But something catches my eye. It's a font. I scrolled down quickly, and I stare at it.

I can't believe that's in been right under my nose this whole time. It was the font that fit Gerard's signature.

Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that it has a name like "Franklin's Love" or "Gerard Hand" or something like that. I admit, that would incredibly awesome and an amazing coincidence, but that wasn't it.

No, it was a font called Staccato222 BT.

And it matched his name perfectly.

I looked from his name tag to screen back and forth in disbelief. I can't believe that I've found it. I gave up the hunt a long time ago, and didn't really think of it anymore.

It surprised me, because Staccato222 BT is a featured font. It's not one of those types of fonts that you have to download, it isn't anything special, and yet I've missed it for so long.

He looks at me quizzically. I tell him that this font best matches his signature. He looks down at his nametag.

"Why, yes it does."

I smile at him, and he smiles at me. There is nobody else here, it is a Friday, and even all the teachers wanted to get out of the building as fast as they could. I suspected that nobody else was in the school other than the janitors. Our faces get closer, until finally our lips touch.

I pause and look at those words on the screen. They seem so perfect. You take this moment to hold my hand, as they are now free from typing. "You know how much I love you?" you ask, but it isn't a question. I blush; I remember those exact same words the first time we kissed. You said them right after we kissed, then I said:

"Not as I much as I love you."

*

I highlight everything I written. You watch me as open up the "Fonts" drop-down bar. I scroll down until I see Staccato222 BT. I click and the words change from the coldness of Arial to the warmness of Gerard.

I print it out, and I give to you. It’s seven pages long.

I smile, and you smile. You scan the whole page, and tell me you love me.

"I love you too," I say, and we kiss.

If anyone were to ask me what my favorite font was now. I know exactly what I'd tell them.

Staccato222 BT.