Page 9 of Hiss and Tell
“It’s a terrible idea.” His snakes all nod in vigorous agreement. “Forget I mentioned—”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“Yes, I’ll fake date you.” The words come easier than they should. “If Milo can come back to storytime.”
“I…” He glances around, then lowers his voice. “I can’t promise anything, but after seeing how upset Milo was about missing storytime, I spent last night reading through the library bylaws. According to policy, the ban applies to disruptive public behavior.”
He steps closer, lowering his voice to a more confidential tone. I have no idea why that makes me want to lean in to smell him better.
“However, there’s a provision that allows for special consideration in cases involving library staff or their families. If we were… seeing each other, your incident would be reclassified as a personal matter rather than a public disruption. The disciplinary committee would likely reduce the ban significantly.”
He stops, as though his offer is complete, then hastens to add, “Though,” he cautions, palms toward me as though trying to stop a speeding freight train, “no guarantees implied or intended.”
My heart leaps. “That’s perfect! When do we start?”
“Now?” The word seems to surprise him as much as me. “I mean, on your next break… or when you’re off. There’s a coffee shop around the corner. We should discuss the details.”
“I’m allowed a thirty-minute break. I can take it now.” My tone is so eager that I sound desperate.
The tomato in his hand looks ready to burst from his nervous grip. “Maybe put that down first?”
He blinks at the squished vegetable like he’s never seen it before. “Right. Yes. Good idea.”
His presence beside me feels both thrilling and comforting, like finding something I didn’t know I was missing. As we walk, every time his arm accidentally brushes mine, a small thrill runs through me, and I find myself wanting to close the careful gap he maintains. The scent of him—something like old books and fresh cedar with a hint of something spicy—makes me want to lean closer.
People definitely notice; Sebastian tends to draw attention, but their glances hold more curiosity than judgment. Sebastian keeps a careful distance between us, like he’s afraid of crowding me. It’s sweet, if unnecessary.
“So,” I venture as we claim a small table at the coffee shop, “what exactly do your neighbors expect from your dating life?”
“Everything.” He somehow makes his massive frame smaller in the dainty café chair. “In their minds, they’ve fast-forwardedtwenty years and have mentioned they want babies to spoil. Which is… I mean, not that we would… this isn’t…”
“Breathe.” The blush creeping up his neck shouldn’t be so endearing. “Let’s start smaller. How about a walk by the lake tomorrow? Very public, very romantic-looking, but totally casual.”
His snakes perk up noticeably. “You don’t have to—”
“I want to.” The words come out too fast, too honest. “I mean, for Milo’s sake. And your neighbors sound scary.”
“Terrifying,” he agrees solemnly. “Mabel makes stress-baking look like a combat sport.”
My laugh bubbles up unexpectedly, real. When was the last time someone made me laugh like this? “Tomorrow then? Around two?”
“Tomorrow.” He stands, nearly bumping the table in his haste. “I should let you get back to work. And I need to… buy tomatoes. Er, different tomatoes.”
He pauses, then his eyes flare wide. “I just replayed my proposition… er… suggestion… and I think I may have made this sound like a quid pro quo. Uh, you had to fake date me in order for me to try to get the ban reduced. Let me assure you—”
“Sebastian?”
He pauses, and something about seeing him in the sunlight streaming through the window makes my breath stutter. The light catches his snakes’ scales in a way that makes them seem almost molten, like living copper wire threaded through dark silk. They react to his emotions in real time—I can see them subtly rising and swaying as his mood shifts, some stretching toward the warmth of the sun while others curl protectively around his shoulders. It’s mesmerizing, this crown of serpentine life that responds to his every feeling.
“Thank you for offering. I realize I don’t need to help you in order for you to help me, but I’m happy to, really. Besides, you’ve been so good with Milo. He really loves storytime.”
“He’s a great kid.” His smile transforms his whole face. “He gets that from his mother.”
The warmth in my chest definitely isn’t just gratitude. And the flutter in my stomach when he glances back from the door isn’t just relief about the library.
This fake dating thing might be more dangerous than I thought.
