Page 42 of Love in the Stacks
“Yeah. Fran?”
I laugh again. The purple T-shirt I’m wearing is a fitted crew neck with a set of two white buttons coming down the center chest area from the collar. On the right breast is embroidered the acronym “SAB” in white thread in block letters. Underneath that, also embroidered in white, but in a fancy script, it says “Fran”.
“It’s a thrift store find,” I explain. “From back in Austin. I’m pretty sure SAB is some kids’ baseball league or something, and I’m guessing this was a coach or parent assistant’s shirt.”
“But your name isn’t Fran,” he says unnecessarily. “Why did you buy it?”
I shrug. “I thought it was funny. Fran’s not a name you see every day, and I thought, I could be Fran. Plus, I like the color and fit of the shirt.”
He shifts his eyes away from the road briefly to give me a curious look. “So, did Fran become your alter ego or something?”
I roll my eyes. “Or something. Nah, it’s just a joke. No one really understands it, and I think that’s why I like it. Gotta leave the people wondering.”
“You like defying expectations.” It’s not a question, but it still feels like he’s asking.
I consider a minute. “I like doing what feels right to me regardless of whether that fits into other people’s expectations or not. Like, I’m not going to do something I don’t actually want to do just because nobody expects it, or just because everyone expects it.”
“Hmmm,” Adam murmurs, encouraging me to continue.
“Like you know there are so many librarian stereotypes out there. And yeah, some of them are not me at all, but some are definitely me. I do like to read. I do like to drink tea. I do wear cardigans. And I’m not about to give those things up just to buck convention. But I dye my hair in all sorts of colors. I have tattoos. Idon’t–”
“You have tattoos?”
“Yes. The point is I’m just me. I’m not a mousy librarian. I’m not a sexy librarian.”
Adam makes a choking noise, and he’s conspicuously focusing on the road in front of us. His face turns red up to his hairline.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing. Just … I tend to disagree about that last part.” Now I’m blushing, but before I can even think of how to respond, he quickly continues. “But I see what you’re saying. The fact that I’m a male librarian throws people for a loop. Plus, I’m a dog person, not a cat person. I do wear glasses though. And I'm pretty awkward.” He smiles.
“Hmm,” I say. “I tend to disagree with that last one.”
He looks over at me quickly, and I grin. Before he turns his head forward again, I see his small, pleased smile.
“Let’s circle back to those tattoos,” he teases.
I laugh. “I have a small one on the top of my foot. And a slightly larger one over my rib cage. How about you? Any ink?”
To my surprise, he nods. “I have one. It’s a fishing rod that goes around my bicep. I got it in memory of my dad. Deep sea fishing was our favorite thing to do together.”
“That’s really sweet,” I say quietly. “I didn’t know you fished.”
He shifts uncomfortably in his seat. “I haven’t been since he died,” he admits. “But I really loved it when I was younger.” After a pause, he asks, “What are yours? If you don’t mind sharing.”
I shrug. “Nothing too exciting. My sisters and I got the foot one together. We each got the letters MNO in script. Our first initials.My older sister is Molly, and my younger sister is Olivia. The one over my ribs is kind of embarrassing.”
“Now I have to know,” he says with a grin.
I hesitate. “It’s just some song lyrics.”
“Embarrassing song lyrics? Let me guess. Justin Bieber or something?” Adam teases.
I make a face. “Ugh, no. Never.” I pause again. The real answer is not so much embarrassing as it is revealing, and I’m not sure I want to reveal that much yet.
Adam notices my hesitation. “What if I tell you something embarrassing about me?” he asks. “Tit for tat?” As he says it, his eyes light up. “Or should I say, tit for tattoo?”
I groan and roll my eyes. “That was bad, Adam.”
