Work Text:
BAZ
The new hire is late.
I’ve been putting off shelving books for an hour now, just waiting like a bloody idiot at the front desk. I can’t even get into reading my book because I have to be ready for someone to burst in at any moment, surely full of apologies.
That’s why I’m surprised when the new hire walks in, slow and confused looking. He approaches the desk, not even bothering to blubber out an apology. I stand up, extending my hand, and he shakes it rather weakly. Weak handshake, weak man, is what my father would have said.
“I’m Basil. You’re late. Let’s go.” I step out from behind the desk and start walking, hoping he gets the message.
I stop at the research desk, where he’s set to work. “This will be your workstation. I trust that you understand the Dewey Decimal System?”
“The Huey what?” he asks, his eyes wide.
It’s work not to roll my eyes at him. This is why we shouldn’t hire university students to work here. Am I a university student? Yes. Am I like the other idiots at this university? Not remotely.
“That’s fine, we can train you,” I say, keeping my voice level. “I know your expertise is in physics, so you will be helping out the physics students with their research.”
“Physics?” he blurts out far too loud.
I scoff. He doesn’t even look like a librarian. He’s shown up in a plain white t-shirt and a pair of jeans with holes in them. With holes! On the first day of a new job.
On my first day, I wore a smart floral button up and fitted black trousers. The older librarians fawned over me (they still do). Up until now, I’ve been the only university student to work here, and they all treat me like their grandson, though it’s not as precious as it sounds. Today I’m in my favorite forest green cashmere jumper, a stark contrast from his casual garb.
“Physics is what we hired you for,” I manage to say without raising my voice. Yelling at a whispering volume is a skill I picked up from working here. Someone has to rid this place of the couples kissing in the stacks. “Have you been here before?” I ask, crossing my arms.
“Er...not exactly.” He looks embarrassed. Serves him right! Who hired this git?
“Follow me.”
For the next half hour, I lead him around the library, pointing out important places and trying to explain the Dewey Decimal System to him.
“So each category is assigned increments of one hundred?” he says, clearly trying to work it all out in his head.
“Do try to keep up,” I tut.
He sighs. “It’s just a bit confusing.”
This time, I do roll my eyes at him. “Do you have a better classification system in mind?”
He stays quiet, so I take him over to the science section.
“Here you are. 500s, natural sciences.” I gesture toward the rows of science books.
His blue eyes widen. “And why does this matter to me?”
“Because you’re the science librarian?”
“Listen, I think there’s been a mistake,” he huffs.
I feel my anger finally boil over. “There certainly has. I don’t know why they hired you, but-”
“Oh Basil!” Dorothea comes flitting over, interrupting me. “I meant to tell you. The new librarian can’t make it in today. He has a bit of a cold.”
“He can’t come?”
“Nope! I’ll train him tomorrow.” She turns to the mystery man before me and says, “I hope Basil is helping you find everything okay!”
I watch Dorothea walk away for a few moments, swallowing uncomfortably. “So you aren’t Mason?”
“No.” Somehow he’s smiling. “I’m Simon. Simon Snow.”
I nod awkwardly. “I’m really sorry about this, Simon. I’m Baz.”
“I thought you said you were Basil?”
“I just use a more formal nickname for work,” I explain. “I thought you were…”
“Here for work. I think I got it now.” Simon smiles again. I don’t know how he’s smiling after this ordeal, but I’m glad he is. It’s surprisingly warm and inviting. “Basil is also a nickname, though? What’s your whole name?”
“Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”
“I see why you’ve got so many nicknames,” he chuckles.
“Your surname is Snow, so you’re one to talk,” I grumble. I probably shouldn’t have grumbled, considering I spent the last half hour yelling at him. “So how can I help you, Snow?”
“I was looking for some sociology books, but I think I know where to find them now. Dewey Decimal System and all,” he winks.
Then he’s gone before I can say anything else. I realize my heart is beating way too fast and my hands have clammed up. Reaching up onto my tiptoes and peering over the stacks, I get a glimpse of Snow’s bronze curls on their way to the 300 section.
“He was cute!” A voice behind me whispers. I turn to find Dorothea standing rosy-cheeked behind me, smiling smugly. “A shame you ruined your chances with him.”
Yeah, a real damn shame.
SIMON
That was really weird.
I’m not sure why I went along with the whole thing for so long, but I did. Baz seemed kinda nice despite him yelling at me the whole time. He looked so posh in his stupid sweater with his useless library knowledge. It was almost cute.
Okay, he’s totally cute. Like, totally unbelievably cute. His black hair was slicked back, but not in the arsehole kind of way. More in the insufferably cool kind of way. His clothes fit him so well (is that a weird thing to notice about someone?), and he left me with a weird feeling that I can’t seem to shake.
I’m not really sure why I’m thinking all this about Tyrannus Basilton Grimm-Pitch. I’m not sure that I’m interested in him; all I know is that I want to talk to him more. I walk past the social sciences section twice, lost in my thoughts. When I finally get there, I search for my book and head to the desk to check it out.
Of course Baz is sitting at the counter when I come down the stairs.
“Find what you’re looking for?” he asks, his voice tight.
“Yup!” I say, trying to lighten the mood. I found the whole mess more funny than annoying, so I don’t want him to be embarrassed about it. Smiling even wider, I slide the book across the counter. “I’d like to check this out, please.”
Baz nods silently, scanning the book into the computer system. My stomach clenches when I realize this could be the last time I talk to him (I’m also hungry, but that’s another issue). Watford may be a small school, but it’s easy to get lost in it. I might never have a reason to talk to Baz again.
“Can I buy you lunch?” I say quickly, my face flushing.
He blinks hard, like he needs to process that this is actually happening. I might have made a huge miscalculation about him. After a moment, he returns to his usual expression, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I have to work through lunch, since I waited for that new hire all morning long.” He looks at me like it’s somehow my fault.
“Oh, yeah, I totally understand,” I manage, scrambling to grab my book. I didn’t think he’d turn me down, but I guess I’m not completely surprised.
“If you brought lunch here, we could eat while I worked,” Baz says, raising an eyebrow in question. It’s almost like a dare.
I suppress the grin that’s brewing and respond, “Perfect! It’s a date.” I can feel myself flushing an even deeper shade of red, so I just wave and keep moving. If I’m not mistaken, I can spot a faint blush on Baz as I rush out the door.
My heart is in my throat as I run to the curry place down the street. As I stand in the queue, I realize I don’t even know what he likes. Is he vegetarian? Gluten free? Surely he would have mentioned any restrictions to me.
I end up ordering way too much food for two people, so lugging it back to the library is a challenge. Baz smiles as I open the door, holding up the takeaway bags like trophies.
“I hope you like curry.” I smile sheepishly as I rest the bags on the counter.
“I do.” Baz returns my smile just as tentatively.
“I didn’t know what you liked,” I explain hurriedly, “so I got a bit of everything.”
His eyes meet mine, and I’m struck by the all encompassing greyness of them. It’s like staring out into the sea on a cloudy day.
“I’m working on shelving in the literature section right now. We can eat there,” Baz says, already turning to make his way there.
“We can’t eat around the books!” I exclaim.
He shrugs. “I trust you won’t get any food on the books, Snow.”
I don’t trust that, but he doesn’t know me very well yet. Still, I follow him, bags of curry in tow.
“Here we are.” He sits down against the wall, and I follow. We’re sitting between the stacks, in front of a huge picture window that overlooks campus. This has got to be the best view of the White Chapel I’ve ever seen.
“It’s gorgeous up here,” I breathe.
“Yeah. I used to come up here as a kid a lot. The rare books room is right over there,” he points to our left, “and that’s where all my mother’s books were.”
“Was she a librarian?” I ask as I set out our food on the floor in front of us.
Baz is fixated at a spot far away, somewhere out over the Great Lawn. “She was the president of the university before she died.”
“Oh.”
“Let’s eat, shall we? I’ve got to get back to shelving.” He turns to me, forcing a smile.
I always seem to muck things up almost immediately when I meet someone new. Except for Penny - my antics didn’t seem to bother her.
I shake my doubts as I open the containers, explaining what each dish is. To my relief, I seem to have picked at least one thing Baz likes. We eat in silence for a moment, just gazing out the window.
I feel so lucky to go to Watford every time I truly take a look at the campus. The rolling hills, the beautiful old buildings. I love the way our campus intersects with the small town around it, so it feels like we live in our own little world. I feel like I belong to something bigger when I’m here, and it’s oddly comforting.
“Why did you go along with me for so long this morning?” Baz asks.
Because I was drawn to you like a magnet for some really odd reason I can’t seem to figure out?
“Oh, I dunno. It seemed like you were having a bad day. I just wanted to help,” I say.
He has an odd look in his eye. Add that to the list of things I can’t figure out about today.
“Did you start working here because of your mother?” I wince when I realize I’ve gone and brought her up again. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to talk about it if it’s too hard.”
“No, no. I’m okay,” he says, clearing his throat. “She passed when I was young. I barely remember her. What I do remember, though, are her books. Like I said, I spent a lot of time up here trying to feel close to her.”
Baz pauses, his eyes trained to that faraway spot again. “One summer I interned here for fun. I took to it quite well, and they kept me on. I’m basically a librarian at this point.”
I smile, taking another bite of my curry. It’s really hard not to be distracted by how good all this food is. Just the smell of it is making me giddy. I try to focus on the conversation at hand.
“That’s really sweet.” A fucking lame response to him pouring his heart out, I know.
Baz sets down his curry and starts reshelving the books. I eat as I watch him, making my way through both my meal and all the extra meals. Sometimes I stop him to ask a question about the Dewey Decimal System, just to try to understand better. I feel like if I want to be friends with him, I need to at least understand the library.
Once his lunch break is up, Baz helps me clean up our food and walks me to the front of the library.
“Thank you for lunch,” he says, the faintest blush on his cheeks.
“No problem.” I want to say more, to really say how much I enjoyed this, but I don’t know how. “Maybe we can do it again sometime?”
He raises his eyebrows and smirks. “I’d like that very much.”
“Great! See you around!” I smile way too big and push out the door before he can process just how awkward I am.
BAZ
“I think that boy likes you,” Dorothea says as we lock up that evening.
I hope he does. It feels strange to have hope in my heart. I’d mostly given up on the people at Watford; not that many other gay kids, not that many interesting folks. But Simon Snow might be the most perplexing person I’ve ever met. Even after our talk, I can’t figure out why he didn’t protest when I’d told him off this morning. Still, I’m glad he stuck around.
“He’s good company,” I reply, trying to keep my voice neutral.
Dorothea puts her hands on her hips and turns to me. “Well I think he’s very sweet. To bring you lunch! Now that’s a proper first date.”
I roll my eyes at her. “It was not a date.”
“Call it what you want, dearie, but it was cute,” she grins. “Even if you left the literature section smelling like curry.”
“Sorry, D.” I should have seen that coming, but him buying me lunch was too sweet a gesture to turn away. Plus, I love curry.
“All’s fair in love!” Dorothea calls, waving as she heads to her car. Sometimes I wonder how she didn’t end up as an actress with all her dramatics.
The next day as I’m making my rounds about the library, I’m surprised to spot a mop of bronze curls at one of the long study tables.
“Snow?” I say, my voice low.
He doesn’t hear me at first. I realize he has headphones in and opt instead for a tap on the shoulder.
“Baz,” he says, startled. “Sorry, I didn’t see you.”
I just smile. “What are you doing here so early on a Sunday morning?”
“Oh, y’know. Reading.” He gestures at the table in front of him as if to explain.
“Ah, I see. And listening to music, it seems.” I point to his phone, still hooked up to the headphones he’s abandoned.
“Yeah. Taylor Swift helps me study. Not personally. I don’t know her. She seems nice, though. I think she could help me, honestly.”
I put my hand over his. “You don’t have to explain, Snow.”
His eyes flit nervously down to our hands, so I pull mine away.
“I just like folklore,” he says, his face becoming more red by the second.
“Mmm.” I don’t much like Taylor Swift, but I’m not one to judge. “Well, I’ve got to go, but it was nice to see you.” I try to smile flirtatiously, but I’m not sure if it comes off as creepy. I think it’s landed well, though, given Snow’s surprised expression.
We meet like this throughout the week, him showing up at the study tables around when my shift starts. Sometimes, when I finish working, I sit with him, and we study together.
I enjoy having company more than I thought I would. I typically study alone, but it’s nice to have someone else there, even if we don’t speak. Besides, it’s the perfect time to admire him. I can take in the detail of each spiraled curl, each mole dotting his cheeks and neck.
One day, when I’m feeling particularly adventurous, I take his hand and lead him to the rare books room. Snow looks down at our hands, surprised, but he doesn’t let go.
We’re breathless as we reach the third floor. We pass the spot where we had lunch that first day, and my stomach twists.
“I wanted to show you this room, since I went on and on about it that day.” I open the door and gesture for him to go inside.
I watch the wonder on Snow’s face as he takes it in. Much of the library has more modern furniture at this point, just because decades of students sitting on the old chairs had taken its toll. This room is much more private, so the original furniture has remained intact. The bookshelves have ornate carvings in their corners, and the armchairs are upholstered with green velvet.
Taking a deep breath in, I smile. It still smells the same. I can almost see myself as a child, sitting on my mother’s lap in one of the armchairs. I push back tears. I’m here. Can you feel me?
“Wow,” he says.
“Astounding vocabulary. Good thing you weren’t one of our librarians,” I joke.
“How old are these books?” he asks, unbothered, as he runs a soft hand along the bookshelf nearest him.
I take a seat in the armchair by the window. “Hundreds of years. They’ve been in my family for generations.”
Snow’s face falls. “That’s incredible, that you have all this family stuff.”
“We keep everything,” I explain, trying to lighten the mood.
“It’s just...you’re lucky to know them at all,” he whispers.
In a moment, I’m up from my seat, taking his hands in mine. Purely as a comforting gesture, and not at all because of how much I like him (which is a lot).
“Sorry,” he clears his throat. “Family is hard for me. I never knew my parents.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say, squeezing his hands tighter.
“It’s okay, I manage. I’ve found something like family here at Watford, anyway.” Snow leads me to the window, only dropping one of my hands. “Plus, with a view like this, how could I ever really be sad?”
As I look at him, I can’t help but think, how could anyone ever be sad around you?
SIMON
I’m not someone who goes to the library. I’m definitely someone who studies, don’t get me wrong. I just have a tendency to study on the floor of my friend Penelope’s apartment and bug her with questions. The library is nice, though. It’s open and airy, but still cosy. I love the dark furniture and the views of campus that I somehow never get over.
I also like one librarian in particular. What’s drawing me to him is beyond me. Until this very moment, I don’t think I’d realized I might like blokes. I brush the thought off. When I dated Agatha, we were madly in love. At least I think we were.
Regardless of why I keep talking to him, being around Baz is so nice. I especially love it when I time my study session at the end of his shift so that he can study with me. He’s such a calming presence, especially when he rests his hand on mine while we talk. Honestly, I feel like I study better here. Also, I love sneaking looks at him. His dark hair and stormy grey eyes are the perfect companion to the dark wood of the furniture.
Like I said, the library is nice.
Penny doesn’t know I’ve been coming here, though. I don’t have the energy to try to explain the Baz situation to her. Between asking Dorothea when Baz is working next (is that creepy or friendly?) and Penny’s time at the library, it can be hard to find a time to come. I usually just tell her that I’m going to mess around on the pitch, but I think she’s onto me.
Which is why I let her come to the library with me today when she sees me.
“Simon!” She calls, waving and running to catch up to me. “Where are you headed?”
“Oh, just playing some football with the lads,” I say, trying to keep a straight face.
Penelope crosses her arms and stops in front of me, blocking the way. “Simon, the pitch is in the other direction. Besides, you can’t play football in that.” She gestures up and down at my outfit.
I feel myself blush as I look down at what I’m wearing. Today, I felt the need to put thought into what I wore to the library, so I’m wearing one of my nicer pairs of jeans and a fisherman sweater. It’s not quite my style (Agatha’s mother got it for me for Christmas last year), so Penny must know something is up.
“I’m going to the library,” I say, like nothing about that is weird.
“That’s exactly where I’m headed!” Penny laces an arm around mine. “We can study together.”
Great.
We take my usual spot at the long study tables toward the back of the library. I know for a fact Baz is working today (thanks, Dorothea), which means he and Penny will probably have to meet. I feel an odd twist of anxiety in my stomach at the thought. I liked having the library to just Baz and I.
As per usual, Penny gets straight to studying, so we work in silence for a bit. I can barely focus, since I keep worrying about whether or not Baz is coming around. I don’t even put my headphones in to listen to folklore.
“Hey, Snow,” a voice says softly.
I look up to see Baz standing in front of our table. My brain completely checks out of the conversation, and I feel myself smile brightly at him and give a little wave.
“Hi, Baz,” I say as he walks away.
Penny’s head shoots up from her book. “How do you know Baz Pitch?”
“How do you know Baz Pitch?” I retort.
Penny rolls her eyes like it’s obvious. “He’s in my Honors classes. You didn’t answer my question.”
“He works here.”
“And you come here?” I can see her mind working as she speaks. “Ah, so this is where you go when you lie about playing football.”
My cheeks feel hot, and I’m sure I’m giving myself away.
“Why would you lie to me about coming here, though?” Penny wonders aloud. Then she looks me dead in the eyes and says, “You like him.”
“I do not!” I practically shout. “I don’t like him,” I add in a whisper.
“Oh, Simon.” Penny reaches out and grabs my hand. “You can tell me if you’re not straight. You know I love you.”
A comment like that from a friend might annoy someone else. Not everyone would appreciate a friend acting as a doting mother, but I appreciate knowing someone is always in my corner.
“Penny, I’m not gay.”
“I saw the way you looked at him,” she says softly. “Do you like being around him?”
I stop to ponder that for a second. Baz is pretty much the only reason I come here. Like I said, it’s nice to study next to the human Google when I’m with Penny, but I like being with Baz. I like the banter that crops up between us sometimes, and the way that he seems to soften his exterior just for me. Shit, maybe Penny has a point.
I sigh. “He’s the whole reason I come here.”
“You can’t even eat in here, yet you spend almost all your time here. That’s a real sacrifice,” Penny says, half joking.
“Actually, Baz let me eat here, upstairs in the literature section.”
Her eyes go wide. “Simon, he likes you.”
That’s something I had not considered. Sure, I’ve considered that it’s a little suspicious that I come here all the time, that I asked him to lunch, and that I dressed up to come here today. But I’d never thought about what would happen if he liked me too. My stomach is in knots again, but this time it’s almost pleasant.
“How can you be sure he even likes men?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Simon, Baz has a pride pin on his backpack, everyone knows he’s gay,” she says, like its obvious.
I think back to the rare books room. “We kinda did hold hands.”
“Simon!” Penelope shrieks, swatting me on the arm.
“We’re in a library, Penny,” I chide playfully. She just swats me again.
“Tell me the next time you fall in love with a dark and handsome man in a library, will you?”
“All right!” I say. “I don’t even know how to get on his radar, like romantically or whatever.”
Penny has a wicked glint in her eye. “You leave that to me.”
BAZ
It’s been days since I saw Snow and Bunce studying together, and Snow hasn’t come back since. Perhaps Bunce told him what an arsehole I am in class and scared him away. I suppose that’d be fair.
I haven’t been an arsehole to Snow, except for that first day. It’s just hard to stay angry around him. He shines a light on everything that’s dark.
Lovely. Now I’m getting all sappy about someone who probably will never speak to me again.
I’m sitting at the front desk, and it’s near closing time. On Fridays we close early, at six o’clock, because apparently most students party on Friday rather than study. A bunch of right idiots, and I’m sure Snow’s one of them. Dodged a bullet there.
“Basil, be a dear and shelve this book for me?” Dorothea places a book in front of me and leaves before I can protest. She knows I hate shelving one book at a time. Maybe this is punishment for the curry in the literature section.
Huffing, I grab the book off the counter. The cover has a gloomy photo of Oscar Wilde on it. Writers: Their Lives and Works, section 809. I grumble about having to go upstairs, and start making my way there.
The library is more tall than wide, so sections 100 through 300 and fiction are downstairs, with sections 400 through 600 on the second floor. Then 800, 700, and the rare books room are on the third floor, and section 900 lies in the small attic-like space on the fourth floor. It’s a real pain to go up and down, which is why I don’t usually reshelve individual books.
Once I get to the spot where this book should be, I find a note instead.
Mr. T. Basilton Grimm-Pitch,
If you wish to find me, find the answer to this riddle and find a book to learn more about it. A container without hinges, lock or a key, yet golden treasures lay inside me. What am I?
“Dorothea? Is this your way of trying to cheer me up?” I call out to no one. It must be close to closing time now, because the library is deserted. Not even Dorothea answers.
The ladies must have noticed I’d been brooding about the library for the past few days and tried to cheer me up. I appreciate the sentiment, but I really don’t have the time for this. The riddle is enticing, though, so I try to crack it.
Crack it! An egg! Food and drink is in section 600, so I head down to the second floor. There, in section 641, is another crumpled piece of paper.
Well done, Basilton!
For your next clue, seek the name of the first surprise album of one who moves swiftly.
I’m immediately frustrated by how short this clue is. I was hoping for another riddle, but this has me stuck. Surprise album. I have to assume they mean a musical album. One who moves swiftly. Are there any musicians who are also runners? My brain can only manage word association at the moment, so I focus on swiftly, and the first artistic person that comes to mind is Johnathan Swift. Swift! Taylor Swift.
I rack my mind for the name of the album Snow was listening to. Our conversation is the extent of my knowledge on the subject. What was it? Folk songs or lore or something like that?
“Folklore!” I exclaim. Thankfully, there’s no one around to judge me.
I practically run down the stairs to the 300 section, where another note waits for me in section 398, folklore.
Before I know it, I’m running up and down the stairs gleefully. It’s well past closing time, so I know that Dorothea must be waiting for me behind the front desk. I hate to admit it, but this really is cheering me up. On top of that, I’ve got a weird feeling that my mother would be happy to see me exploring the library like this. A strange sense of peace settles over me.
I smile as I grab the note in the political science section on the first floor.
A librarian for this subject you need, too bad you didn’t find one in me.
In me? Then it all comes flooding back. We needed a science librarian, one who specialized in physics. None of the current librarians interviewed for the job, though, so who could this clue be referring to?
Simon.
I can feel my heart practically beating out of my chest. The folklore clue and now this? Could it be that Snow orchestrated this whole thing? Taking a deep breath, I push my feelings aside. He’s been ignoring you for days. Just finish the stupid scavenger hunt and go home.
I walk shakily up the stairs to the 500 section, anxious hands grabbing the paper left for me in section 530.
I think you’re out of this world.
Without even thinking, I break into a run and head for the attic. The shelves are closer together up here, so I have to wind around them before I reach it. Section 999, extraterrestrial worlds.
I nearly gasp when I see the section donned out with white Christmas lights. There’s a table set up right in front of the small window that gives the most beautiful view of campus and the town beyond. Walking slowly toward it, I notice a few tiny candles set up. The plates have been set meticulously, so that the curry dinners on them look as though they came from a fancy restaurant.
“Simon?” I wonder aloud.
“Over here,” he calls. I turn around to see Simon standing before me, holding a bouquet of flowers.
“What’s going on?” I ask, breathless.
He steps toward me, and I can see that his face is flushed. “I just wanted to show you that I cared.”
“Cared about what?” I can’t let myself think about what this might mean. Not if I could get it wrong.
“You!” Simon practically shouts. “I care a lot about you. It’s why I come to the library all the time. I don’t study here normally, I just like seeing you.”
Oh. “I like seeing you too.”
Snow’s eyes widen at that. He takes a deep breath and goes on. “I like you, Baz. I like how you scold me about the Dewey Decimal System, and how studying with you feels like sitting next to a warm fire.”
I feel my breath catch in my throat. He couldn’t possibly understand that he’s the fire, and that he’s the reason I’m warm at all.
“I don’t know if you like me,” he continues sheepishly, “but I needed you to know.”
My throat feels itchy and hot. I can’t manage to get words out, so I do the next best thing. I grab the flowers out of his hands and set them on the table behind me. I can literally feel the electricity between us right now, the fire. Simon meets my eyes, and his bright blue eyes are practically smiling at me as I lean in to kiss him.
It’s corny, I know, but it’s really like that scene in a movie when the characters finally kiss, and the music swells, and the camera spins around them. Simon keeps doing this thing with his chin that I adore, and I have my hands threaded through his curls.
“How did you do this?” I breathe.
Simon bites his lip and looks at the ceiling. “I asked Dorothea when you were working and if we could stay after closing.”
“She’s been trying to get us together since you first walked through the door,” I laugh, pulling him closer.
“Penny helped with the clues. She also thought it was obvious that we liked each other.”
I smile, pulling him in for another soft kiss. Suddenly, Simon tenses. “The food! It’s getting cold. Someone took longer than I expected.”
“The stairs!” I protest. He laughs in answer, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
Simon leads me over to the table, set up beautifully for us. He’s looking out the window, awestruck. I love the way the lights from outside seem to sparkle in his eyes.
He’s brought the same curry as the first day (I guess our first date, really), and it smells amazing.
“It’s so beautiful here at night,” Simon says, his voice barely a whisper.
I reach for his hand across the table, not taking my eyes off him. “Yeah, it really is.”