I couldn’t help it. Every time I went to work, I hoped I’d see him. I didn’t want to hope for it, didn’t think anything could come of it, but a thousand happy sparks twirled through me whenever he came into Jitter Beans.
I liked everything about him—his masculine features and thick-lashed eyes, his jaw sometimes dusted with a hint of stubble. I liked his dark hair, his tall, strong body, his smile, and the twinkle that shone in his eyes when he looked at me.
I started to welcome the feelings he aroused in me, all so utterly different from the narrow practicality that had driven my life for years. One morning he pushed a folded piece of paper across the counter along with his dollar bills.
Half-expecting it to be his phone number, I opened the paper. There was a library call number written in scrawled, masculine handwriting: PR9199.3 R5115 Y68.
I looked at Dean in confusion.
“Memorial Library,” was all he said before taking his coffee and going to his usual table by the window.
I tucked the paper safely into my pocket. As soon as my shift ended, I hurried down State Street to the massive campus library. I took the stairs to the second floor and checked the numbers on the ends of the stacks that stood like sentries throughout the floor.
PR9199.3 R5115 Y68. I ran my finger along the rows of dusty, old books before I came to the correct volume. My heart thumped as I pulled it off the shelf and looked at the title.
Your Mouth Is Lovely.
I smiled.
When Dean walked into Jitter Beans the next day, I pulled the book from beneath the counter and handed it to him. I’d stuck a Post-It on the front with another call number: Aston 552.
“Cooperative Children’s Book Center,” I said. “What can I get for you, sir?”
“Medium coffee, please.” He put the book under his arm. “No room for cream.”
He returned two days later and held up a children’s picture book titled A Rock Is Lively. I grinned.
His eyes twinkled. “Lots of stuff buried beneath the surface of a rock, the book says. Very turbulent. Molten, even.”
“The book is right.”
Our gazes met. A bolt of energy arced between us, one that made my heart hum with warmth and excitement.
“Medium coffee, no cream?” I asked, turning to the dispenser.
I pushed his cup across the counter at the same moment that he reached for it. Our fingers met, and a shiver of awareness jolted clear up my arm.
I jerked my hand back, my breath shortening. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.” His eyebrows drew together, faintly puzzled by my reaction.
My face grew hot. Now he must think you’re a freak.
I wiped my damp palms on my apron and tried to regain my equilibrium. “We… uh, we have some fresh scones in.”
“No, thanks.” He continued looking at me, one hand curved around the cup, a frown tugging at his mouth.
Yeah. You should probably stay away from me, Professor West.
“Olivia, I’m giving a lecture at the Chazen Museum on Friday night,” he said. “I’d like it if you’d come. We can go somewhere afterward.”
I blinked. “Are you asking me out?”
The bluntness of the question made him smile. “I am.”
“Oh.” Oh!
He waited. I flushed. Panic fluttered in my chest.
“I don’t… I don’t really date,” I stammered. “In fact, I don’t date at all.”
“Okay.” He scratched his chin. “Well, we don’t have to think of it as a date, if you don’t want to. We can just go out.”
The tight knot of dismay inside me loosened a little. I badly wanted to spend time alone with him, this medieval history professor who was luring me with library call numbers.
“Isn’t us going out against university policy?” I asked. “Since you’re a professor?”
A shadow eclipsed his expression for an instant, as if I’d reminded him of inviolable rules. Then I got worried he would retract the invitation.
What the hell is wrong with me?
“It’s not against policy if you’re not a student of mine,” he said. “But if you’d rather not—”
“No, that’s not it,” I interrupted. “I just… I was just making sure.”
“Do you plan to take any medieval history classes?” he asked.
“Actually, I plan to stay far away from the medieval history department,” I admitted.
“Good idea.” He paused. “So what do you think?”
I took a breath. For God’s sake, Liv. It’s a lecture and maybe coffee afterward. That’s it.
“Okay,” I finally said. “Friday night.”
“Good. The lecture starts at seven.”
“What’s it about?” I asked.
“Monastic architecture and sarcophagi.” He lifted his cup in a salute and winked at me. “Prepare to be dazzled.”
I already am, I thought as I watched him walk away.