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I sit on my spinny chair at the counter of the library

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I sit on my spinny chair at the counter of the library. I've finished my book and I don't feel like starting another. My inventory is done as well, so I have nothing I need to do.

I sigh and rest my chin in my palm.

"Boring," the voice sings. It's joined me more and more recently. I think it's because I stopped taking my pills. Killian took me to the doctor two weeks ago, and I've been taking the new painkillers. They don't numb me like the old ones, but they take the physical pain away.

I won't pretend I don't miss the old pills because I do miss shutting off my brain sometimes. But as upset as I feel sometimes, I feel much happier.

The voice has been less daunting too, less mean. It's always been a sort of gender-neutral bully, but lately, it's been a girl's voice, higher than mine, and she's just been commenting on my life. It gets annoying, but it's so much better than it was.

The bell on the door rings, and I perk up, fixing my posture and smile. "Can I help you find anything?" I call out.

I receive no answer and assume they'll come see me if they need something. I resort to spinning on my spinny chair out of boredom. I watch the world swirl by in a blur before my chair slows down and comes to a halt. When it does, I come face to face with a little white container. I look up and see my favorite giant Brazilian.

"Killer! Hi!" I say, sitting up straighter.

"Ice cream," he says, nodding to the cup. "Let's go," he turns and begins to walk away.

"Whoa, whoa there!" I stop him. "I'm working; I can't just leave."

"I got ice cream," he says, pushing the cup towards me. "Cookie dough."

"I know, I can see that," I nod slowly. "...Thank you, but I'm still at work," I giggle.

He frowns. "Well, when will you be done? We're going out."

"I'm done in an hour," I sigh. He rolls his eyes and nods before turning around and leaving. I smile to myself and eat my ice cream, putting the cookie dough pieces to the side with my spoon to eat after.

An hour later, Nisha comes in and waves at me from the entrance, signaling me to go over; it makes her car keys jingle.

"Maya, hey...!" she says awkwardly, giving me an uncomfortable side hug.

"It's okay, I know you were just doing your job," I smile at her.

She sighs in relief. "Okay, good because I really do like you, and I wanted to tell you the second I figured out it was you, but by that point, Micah knew too, and I figured you'd want to hear it from him and not m..."

I cut her off. "It's okay. I know. And even if you did know Killian was supposed to kill me, it's your job," I shrug and give her a hug. "We're good. I promise," I smile softly at her as I hold open the door for her, locking it behind me.

"I swear I wasn't pretending to be your friend. I really liked hanging out with you," she says, the sincerity in her voice obvious. She smiles down at me. "I like hanging out with you too." I say.

She nods and rounds the car; I get into the passenger seat. "Is that your natural hair?" I ask her; her free curls are a big contrast to her usual straight slick-back.

She nods. "Yeah, it is," she grins as she touches the tip of one of her curls with one hand, using the other to drive. "Mamãe keeps giving me shit for 'losing Brazilian roots' every time she sees it straight, as if the woman isn't living in a mansion on the outskirts of New York City," she shakes her head.

"Mamãe is Mira, right?" I ask. "That's what Killian calls her."

Nisha glances over at me. "Mamãe is mama," I nod, "but Mira is our mama." i nod again "Hey, since you brought up Killian..." she grins at me, shaking her shoulders up and down.

"What about him?" I ask. "I know we didn't exactly get the best start, but he's a really good friend."

Nisha sends me a straight face. "Girl, please," she deadpans. I laugh. "What? It's true," I shrug.

"Baby, sweetie," she pulls up to a red light and cups my face in her hands; I furrow my eyebrows. "My sweet innocent little Maya, that man is so madly in love with you."

I scoff and push her hands off, laughing. "You're crazy."

"I've known Ian my whole life, and... let's just say the Ian he is around you is a lot different than the one I know," she explains.

"Could you be any more vague?" I roll my eyes with yet another laugh.

"Okay," she turns to me in her seat, "how many times does Ian go into the café?"

I furrow my eyebrows in thought. "I'd say once a day on average."

She laughs a little and grins at me. "Unless it's from Bean Haven, specifically on days you work mornings, Killian won't touch coffee." I scoff and send her a 'whatever' look. "I'm serious! I don't even think he drinks the one he buys from you!"

"You don't know what you're talking ab—" I start, but I'm cut off.

"He brought you ice cream," she over-pronounces every word to emphasize her point. I blush and look away. "Focus on the road," I say half-jokingly, remarking that the light had turned green.

Not even a second later, the car behind us honks. Nisha repositions herself in her seat and yells out, "Sorry!" making a yikes face.

It's silent for a while until we pull into the club parking lot; she unbuckles herself and faces me again. "Seriously though," she starts, her tone much less light-hearted than before, "be careful with him. I love my brother, but... he's dangerous, not physically... to you anyway," she mumbles the last part with a chuckle, "but emotionally. He has a lot of... feelings, but showing them might send him to like, the grave or something. He has a lot of baggage. He's just not who you think he is," she finishes off with a nod, "oh, and tell him about your tumor before you guys get serious," she adds.

My eyes widen. "H-how did you..."

"Micah told me. I won't tell Ian for now, but he doesn't need another important person in his life to die." And with that, she gets out of the car, not even waiting for a response.

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