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“Okay. You have—” Alex checks his watch and taps the tiny screen “—two minutes to grab some books.”
Henry blinks, frowning. “What? Alex—”
“Starting now.”
“Darling, what on earth do you mean?”
Alex smiles, smug and self satisfied. He crosses his arms over his chest in that way he does when he’s preening, and wants Henry to acknowledge how wonderful of a boyfriend he is. “You’ve got two minutes to grab whatever books you want, no upper limit. All on me.”
“All on you?” Henry swings his head around the bookstore, across the table of features and endless shelves housing only a small portion of their catalog. “You’re aware I have plenty of my own money, aren’t you,” he mutters. They’re only on floor one of four.
“Y’know, the Burberry and private jets never clued me in on that.” Alex cocks his head, a clear farce of deduction pulling his handsome features. “Should I stop the clock?”
Henry jerks. “What? No, Christ.” He almost trips over himself as he approaches the staircase, preparing to take it two steps at a time. From the top down, he thinks. Faster to run down a set of stairs than up. “Restart it, you fool!”
All’s fair in love and war, Henry reminds himself. And in literary fiction, historical nonfiction, and most important, queer biographies from pivotal figures across the world.
Actively hiding from his partner with his armful of prizes could be toeing the line a bit, he will concede.
“Hen, come on!” He hears Alex stage-whispering from a few shelves over. It may not be a library, but the attitude carries over. “You’re not a dragon hoarding gold, sweetheart. It’s been way over two minutes.”
Henry sucks his bottom lip between his teeth. He has space between his right ring finger and pinky—he could probably find something light to carry there, couldn’t he?
Ignoring a suspicious look he’s getting from a person wearing a staff lanyard, Henry bends around a corner, ducking slightly just in case. He's in the self-help and communications corner, but if he’s quick, he thinks he might be able to make it to the gender studies section, and beside that is where the politics books live. Alex would like something, Henry tells himself. There was a new book on intersectionality in public policy he’d mentioned amidst his sleepy morning rambles that Henry is sure he’ll be able to track down.
He’s wondering how he can get his phone out to look up the book Alex had been talking about, when a single arm springs out from around a shelf, and clings around Henry’s torso like a viper.
“Bloody—!” Henry yelps, dropping almost every book he’d gathered in his foraging. They make a great mess of thunks, and even a hardback hitting the toe of his shoe doesn’t distract him from the way some of the pages warp at the rough treatment. It makes him wince.
Alex is panting against his neck. “You are a goddamn snake in the grass, mister,” he hisses. Henry can hear the shadow of a laugh behind it. “And people think I’m the chaotic one.”
Henry tuts. “That’s because you are.”
“Excuse me, sirs?” A hesitant voice calls from one side. The store attendant from before, this time holding a metal shopping basket. “Do you… uh…”
Gently, Henry shrugs Alex’s grip away. “A basket would be lovely,” he says lightly, taking the metal handle and crouching to stack the books carefully.
Alex kneels beside him. “So how many of these did you actually grab during the first two minutes?”
Henry shrugs and makes a noncommittal noise, which causes Alex to snicker. He stacks carefully, puzzling the hardbacks at the bottom with the paperbacks and special editions on top, and hoists the heavy basket up.
“Have you ever thought about getting a kindle?” Alex eyes the strain of the basket handles.
“That’d never compare.”
“Oh, ‘course,” Alex entertains his claim and follows behind Henry like a puppy. “Dinners on you tonight, by the way.”
Henry swats away Alex’s fingers where he’s trying to take the basket in a gesture perhaps chivalrous, but more likely underhanded. “Oh, is it?”
“Yep! And I’m craving sushi.”