Page 36 of Love in the Stacks
Adam eyes me cautiously. “We should go sometime.”
The flutter is back in my stomach, but I will it away. “Yeah, that would be fun,” I say casually. “We can talk about the graphic novel project.”
Adam smiles, but I see the disappointment in his eyes. “Sure,” he says.
Thursday morning is a blur of activity as I run around getting all the pieces in place for the graphic novel collection launch party. Despite the emphasis I’ve been putting on it in my own brain, the “party” is actually a pretty casual affair. We scheduled two hours in the middle of the day when students, faculty, and staff can come into the library and enjoy light festivities in honor of the graphic novels.
We have a table of refreshments, including iced sugar cookies I had specially made with comic book action words in colorful designs: Wham! Zap! Ka-boom! Pow! The cookies used most of my event budget, but they look amazing.
And they match my dress. I ordered, using my own money of course, a comic pop print dress online. The dress has a black background covered with comic book action words and speech bubbles in bright red, yellow, blue, and orange. The skirt is semi-pleated and flares out over my hips, flowing down to my knees. It has a sweetheart neckline, and since it’s a tank-top style and I’m at work, I wear a sunshine yellow cardigan over top of it. My red ballet flats add another bit of color. It’s all ridiculous, and I love it. Will I ever wear this dress again? No, probably not, but I’m having fun wearing it today.
We set up a second table with drawing supplies so students can create their own comic-style artwork. Displayed above this table are sample pages from the graphic novels in our collection.
Then, of course, front and center, the focal point of the event, is the shelf of graphic novels, newly cataloged and ready to check out. We have fifty total to start with, so we’ll see how well they circulate over the next few weeks and months. My hope is that we can justify buying more before the fall term.
The event goes well. Students flow through, munching on cookies, drawing, and flipping through the graphic novels. The most frequent question of the day is, “I can check this out?”
I repeat, “Yes, of course. Please do,” over and over again and my cheeks start to ache from holding a friendly smile in place. I’ll beexhausted after the event is over. I plan to shut the door to my office and just be alone for two hours this afternoon to recover.
My outfit gets lots of compliments, though I’m not sure if they actually like how it looks, or if they’re just impressed with my bravery for wearing it in public. I know that despite my best intentions, I’ll spend some time dissecting everyone’s words and glances later, trying not to feel embarrassed after the fact.
In between smiling and answering questions, I keep glancing at the doors. My eyes frequently wander to the back door that connects the public area of the library to the staff offices, but I also watch the front door too often. I know what, or rather who, I’m looking for, but I don’t see Adam or his mother until the last thirty minutes of the event.
Adam helped set up tables this morning, but that all happened while I was out picking up the cookies from a local bakery not too far from the college. Being that Adam is not an interacting-with-people type of librarian, we agreed that he should make an appearance at the event but doesn’t have to be here the whole time. Even still, I’m surprised I haven’t seen him at all yet today.
Finally, the back door opens, and Adam emerges, smiling back at his mother who’s close behind. He turns and our eyes lock across the room. He gives me a once-over, the smile on his lips replaced with a look of awe. Eyes wide, he stalks toward me, Mary watching him closely with a smirk on her face.
“That’s quite a dress,” he says when he reaches me.
“I hope I don’t look too ridiculous.”
“Not at all. You look amazing.” The heat in his eyes confirms his words.
I press my fingers to my warm cheeks to cool them down. “Thank you,” I say carefully. “I thought it would be fun.”
He surveys me again, his gaze lingering on the bodice of my dress. “It is,” he affirms. “I like the pattern.”
Mary approaches us, then, exclaiming, “Well, don’t you look festive!”
I turn toward her and smile, though I can still feel Adam’s eyes on me.
I end up chatting with Mary the rest of the event, in between answering questions from the last few guests trickling through. I really like her. She’s funny and whip-smart, and maybe because she reminds me a bit of my own mother, I don’t feel like I met her just this week, but like we’ve been good friends forever. Adam hovers on the periphery, interjecting comments from time to time, but otherwise listening quietly. At one point, he steps away to examine the artwork left behind on the drawing table, and Mary rests her hand on my arm.
“It’s been so nice meeting you, Nicole,” she sighs with a contented smile.
“You too, Mary, but listen, I don’t want you to get the wrong impression. I’m not sure what Adam’s told you—”
“He’s told me nothing, dear.”
“Okay,” I continue, watching the top of Adam’s head across a group of students walking past, “but you should know that Adam and I are just coworkers. He’s lovely to work with, but that’s all thisis.” Desperately, I reach for her hand and cling to it, willing her to understand.
She squeezes my hand gently, her eyes soft. “It will work out,” she murmurs.
I want to shake her a little, make her realize I’m not a match for her son. I also have the unexplainable but frantic urge to pump her for information, ask herwhatwill work out, andhowexactly, and how can she know for sure?
But Adam returns, and we drop our hands while he gives us a quizzical look. I force a smile and finish out the event, thoughts swirling and counting down the minutes until I can escape to my office.
Chapter seventeen
