Naturally, old Mrs. Humphrey would give him a list of lost books to look for.
Shit. It was the evening. Oliver never looked for books this late. What had he done? Really? He and Bex were in the middle of a conversation. It was serious. They'd never finish it at this rate. He wanted her to know the truth. Well, most of it. He didn't want to admit who Nelson was to him. Who did she think he was? Shit. He couldn't stop thinking the word. Next the word "fuck" would be under his breath.
It was useless to really look for these stupid books. They weren't here. Security was lax as it was. The security bars weren't even working. If somebody really wanted something, they could just walk out of here with it.
Oliver sighed about his tedious mission. He so wanted to be back at the counter taking in her scent, the sight of her, the texture of her wonderful skin. And she'd never know any of this. Not one inkling how he really felt because she believed he had a fucking boyfriend.
Fuck. His teeth gnashed, and he did a bit of stomp dance that kicked a few of the Calvin and Hobbs books out of place. He looked at them with satisfaction for a moment and finally put them back on the shelf.
Tears were about to emerge, but then they were always swimming in his eyes. He just didn't cry. Why? Why wasn't he someone else? Why did he have to be this? Why did she have to look at him that way?
Besides, what was to come of him? He thought of Izzy. They'd had such high hopes for her. She was quite intelligent, but was that ever enough? And he'd fucked up ever going back to the Art school. What was he suppose to think? Was he suppose to be what everyone thought he was to be.
The harsh reality played over and over again. Why did the world work this way? Everyone placing you in a certain spot because you looked the part even if you went kicking and screaming. He'd always felt he had to stand up for himself. Somehow. He felt himself shaking in anger. He sat down on a step stool then ready to crumble, but then he saw Bex's toes. She was wearing flip-flops. Against regulations. He smiled at the black nail polish. He looked at her, then stood up. The stool turned over.
He smiled. She smiled. There was nothing to tell. Was there? His fingers touched her lips and his thumb was a the corner of her mouth when he found his lips on hers. It was more than just a kiss. It was like going to a whole new world swirling around with his tongue on hers. Were they even in the library, anymore?
Their bodies swayed and an avalanche as books tumble from above, but luckily nothing could touch them in the splendor. Finally, Oliver felt her break away. She rubbed her lips then with her finger tips as if it weren't true. The isle was a mess. Books everywhere. She turned away, hurriedly.
Oliver licked his lips and put the books away and stayed there for a few minutes in the silence looking around to see if anyone were there. Maybe a ghost. Maybe Mrs. Humphrey. No one. No one at all.
Finally he walked back to the counter.
"Was there something you needed?" He looked at Bex.
Her eyes were wide open. She looked a bit startled and slightly stressed.
She shook her head, no.
"You can still give me a lift home tonight, can't you?" God, he didn't want to ask. It was this unsaid thing. It always happened when they worked a night together.
He turned away and sighed. Oliver cleared his throat a little and walked back to where ever he was supposed to be. Somewhere far from Bex. Evidently.