Page 13 of Icing on the Cake

Straightening up, I take ten dainty, toddler-sized steps backward and clasp my hands behind my back.

Several agonizingly silent seconds tick by, and I start rocking on my heels and whistle. The librarian flips a page, then another, not bothering to engage in any further conversation with me.

My eyes wander to a bulletin board advertising study groups and yoga sessions. One has a picture of a cat doing a downward dog pose, and it makes me smile.It’s the simple things, you know?

Suddenly, my stomach growls again, but louder this time. I skipped breakfast in my rush to find the stick, which is totally not my style. I’m the guy who could eat a horse and still ask, “What’s next?” because I have a bottomless pit where my stomach should be.

Just as I’m about to give up and find the nearest vending machine, the librarian closes his book with a thud. The sound echoes through the library like a gunshot, making several students duck for cover.

He stretches, pulling his sweatshirt up his body to reveal a small patch of his flat belly. His skin is smooth, and I wonder how it would feel under my fingers.

I clear my throat. “So…do you know how long the wait is?”

The librarian shrugs and fixes his glasses before scanning the lobby. He deliberately avoids making eye contact with me.

“Depends,” he says.

“Depends on what?”

“How long it takes me to finish helping the next person.”

Is this guy for real?I’m the only one in line.

“There’s no one else here,” I say, stating the obvious.

He raises an eyebrow. “Is there not?”

I throw my hands up in defeat. “Come on, man! I’ve got places to be.”

The librarian leans back in his chair and steeples his fingers together. A slow, sinister smile creeps across his face.

“You’re one of the Fearless Foursome.” It’s not a question, but I nod anyway. “That explains so much.”

Before I can ask what he means by that, a young woman wearing a cardigan and holding a stack of books strolls up to the information desk. “I’d like to check these out, please.”

The guy smiles kindly at the woman and scans her books into the computer system.

My eyes narrow as I take him in, studying how his thin lips curve and his dark eyes crinkle at the corners. It’s disarming,especially when his gaze flicks to me, and his smile morphs back into a smirk.

I should be pissed. Iwantto be pissed. But instead, I feel this weird jolt of…something to my gut that makes my toes curl.

What the heck is wrong with me?Maybe I’m just tired. Or hungry. Or both.

Or maybe it’s because I haven’t jerked off since last night.

Yeah, that’s probably it. My body is just confused and pent-up.

The woman walks away with her books in a bag, leaving me with Mr. Jekyll and Hyde again.

He picks up a pen and taps it on the desk, still smirking. “So…” He drags out the word as if it’s the most beautiful syllable he’s ever heard. “Where were we?”

I’m about to take a step forward but think better of it. “Look, I really need to find my hockey stick. Coach will kill me if I don’t have it for the game.”

He shrugs again, and that infuriatingly casual motion makes me want to shake him by the shoulders. “Not my problem.”

“Can you at least check the lost and found?”

He crosses his arms over his chest, leans back in his chair, and closes his eyes. “Maybe later. Nap time.”

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