Librocubicularist

“Librocubicularist,” Tyler repeated to himself and grinned. It was his new badge of honor. All it meant was that he read books in bed, but who would know that? Either way, it would spark conversation and make him sound very smart in the process.

He kept his eyes down, walking briskly across the campus. “Librocubicularist,” he muttered the word again, replacing his old label in his mind. Sesquepidian misanthrope (That just meant someone who used long words and hated humanity, or, in his case, someone who showed his hatred for humanity by confusing them with long words.) had served him well over the past three years, but it was time for something fresh, something safe for the job search.

Besides, his puerile misanthrope stage had been nothing more than a coping mechanism for loneliness. He was out of his hellhole of a high school and into his second year of college thanks and no thanks to the spelling bee. It had earned him a prestigious scholarship but also egregious bullying. Moving to a new environment and meeting new classmates had given him a better outlook and a better coping mechanism. He saw the good in people now... at least the good in one person.

The little ding welcoming him to the campus Chick-fil-A had grown all too familiar, but Tyler didn’t come for the sandwiches. He flipped open his laptop as if to study and then watched one of the workers out of the corner of his eye. Evelyn: that’s what her name tag said. What a beautiful name. She was ugly but only in the face. Her intellect was sharp. She dropped witty comments as she dropped off food. Her personality was effervescent. One minute, she was talking about Alexander the Great with some history students. The next, she was reciting a stanza from Emily Dickinson with a literature major. She seemed to know half the patrons, picking up conversations from weeks ago as though they had never left.

At this off-hour, she could be especially chatty. She was an avid reader with a preference for fantasy, a hobbyist saxophone player, and a capable carpenter because she used to work for her dad. All this Tyler knew from observation—eavesdropping. He wanted to talk to her—he even knew what he would say—but he had a conundrum. She wouldn’t like him, probably. How would he cope then? It was better to leave friendship—or even a relationship—a soothing dream than to know the crushing reality.

The next minute, Evelyn was standing at Tyler’s table. “Do you have to be four weeks ahead before you can order your food?”

Oh, that evocative voice! Images of reading in bed beside this woman flooded Tyler’s mind. If only his sophisticated words flooded his mouth. Instead, they dried up with his saliva and poured out through the sweat on his palms. All he could mine out of that dessert was, “Book signing?”

She raised her eyebrows and cocked her head.

Tyler swallowed hard, extracting a few more words: “Sanderson. Tomorrow… with me?”

Evelyn laughed at him. “Well aren’t you a weird one? What kind of guy asks a girl to book signing off the rip?”

Tyler cleared throat, straightened his back, and pushed his glasses back up his nose. “A librocubicularist.”