Page 43 of Love in the Stacks
He shrugs. “I liked it. So, what do you say? Want me to go first?”
I consider his offer. On the one hand, I’m dying to know Adam’s embarrassing story. On the other hand, if I hear it, I’ll be honor bound to share my own cringe-worthy past. Or at least a piece of it.
“Okay,” I finally relent. “You first.”
He takes a breath, and his ears are already turning red, so I know this will be good.
“When I was in graduate school,” he begins, “the school of library and information science, also known as SLIS, had a yearly tradition of printing a ‘Men of SLIS’ pin-up calendar.”
“Oh my gosh,” I choke.
“It was funny on two levels, both related to the tradition of firefighter pin-up calendars to raise money for charity. First, it poked fun at the relatively low number of men in library science programs.Second, because male librarians are maybe not as … physically fit, let’s say, as firefighters tend to be, positioning them in stereotypically sexy poses has a more comedic effect.” The twitch at the corners of Adam’s lips belies the smile he’s holding back.
“I get why it’s funny, but don’t tell me…” I’m practically holding my breath now in anticipation.
“Yes,” Adam nods solemnly. “I was Mr. July. On the beach.”
“Nooooo!” I can’t hold back my laughter. “That’s too funny! Were you shirtless?”
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
I abruptly stop laughing and whip my head around at the uncharacteristically flirty comment. Judging by the deep red of his face and neck, Adam is just as surprised by his words as I am. An awkward silence fills the car, but by the power of suggestion, my brain is now inventing a picture of what a shirtless Adam might look like. No six-pack abs certainly, but the muscle definition I’ve seen in his arms and calves suggest a lithe runner’s body. I mean, we know the man takes care of himself with his healthy eating and daily walks with Joan. I imagine a firm chest, with defined collar bones and strong shoulder muscles. My eyes glaze over as I stare out the front windshield.
Adam clears his throat. “To answer your question, no. I wore a tasteful sweater vest.”
I bark out a laugh. “At the beach!”
He glances at me and grins.
“Ihaveto see this,” I tease. “Where can I find a copy?”
“I do have a copy,” he admits. “But I’ve hidden it so well that hopefully no one will ever see it again.”
“Boo! Such a killjoy.” I laugh.
When the car is quiet again, Adam nudges me with his elbow. “Your turn.”
“My story is not nearly as interesting,” I say. “Do you know Chelsea Jordan?”
“No,” Adam responds, a question in his voice.
“She’s a musician whose songs are kind of dark and emotional. I was really into her music in high school. When I was in graduate school, I got a tattoo of lyrics from one of her songs.” I’ve doled out just crumbs, but they may be an easy trail to track; I brace for his follow-up questions. I got the tattoo during my breakup with Steven.
“What’s the lyric?” he asks.
I take a deep breath, using my finger to trace the letters underneath my shirt. “Love in force / Gunning for you.”
Adam is quiet for a beat. “That’s haunting,” he finally says. “But not embarrassing.”
Now it’s my turn to sit wordlessly. I slowly shake my head. “Maybe not,” I say in a low voice.
To my surprise, he doesn’t ask anything else.
Chapter twenty
Nicole
We’ve been driving for a few hours when I see a billboard and shoot up in my seat.
