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The guy one table over from Alex won’t stop fucking shivering.
His fellow student, wearing only a thin t-shirt and jeans, is hunched over an enormous textbook with his arms wrapped tightly around the middle of his abdomen. Alex can see goosebumps on his skin even from a distance, and his soft-looking lips are trembling so much Alex is worried they might vibrate off completely.
It’s the middle of fucking November in New York City.
Alex isn’t sure if he should pity the guy or ask him what the actual hell he was thinking.
All Alex knows is that every time his teeth chatter, Alex can hear it. And every time Alex hears it, he looks over at the guy. And every time Alex looks over at the guy, he winds up staring for an ungodly amount of time because the dude is fucking hot.
Which is, admittedly, not the best adjective for the boy shivering in the middle of a campus library at one in the morning.
There are a million other words he could probably use to describe how stupidly beautiful the man is, all swirling around in Alex’s brain and making it insanely fucking hard to focus.
He has a term paper due in forty-seven hours, and Alex knows that as soon as he says he’ll work on it from home, he’s already lost the battle.
So that’s why he’s here, in a dimly lit, dusty library with only five souls in the entire goddamn building, and that’s including the fucking ghost that sometimes knocks shit off of the shelves.
Alex came prepared to deal with the conditions—he has a thick hoodie, a thermos full of hot coffee, and a laptop that sometimes threatens to catch on fire if Alex opens one too many Chrome tabs.
Tall, blonde, and handsome over there clearly didn't get the memo.
This library in particular is notorious for not caring about student well-being if it saves them some cash, so they frequently pinch pennies by doing shit like this—Alex is pretty sure the heat hasn’t turned on in the two hours he’s been here. But considering it’s one of the only twenty-four hour libraries on campus, there aren’t many other choices.
Another tremor shakes the man’s body, and he pushes his messy hair away from his forehead, brows furrowed at his book. His mouth moves silently as he reads the words, which makes Alex’s lungs feel tight even before a pink tongue flicks out to wet his lips.
Alex watches him for a moment too long this time, though, and the guy catches him, stupidly blue eyes meeting Alex's when he doesn’t look away quick enough.
Pink spreads over pale cheeks, the first sign of any warmth in over ninety minutes. He smiles timidly in Alex’s direction, glancing back down at his materials. But his gaze flicks upward again after a few seconds, like he can tell Alex is still watching him.
And now that he’s already been caught, Alex can’t look away.
On the third glance up, the man’s eyes trace over Alex’s face and then down, and suddenly the temperature of Alex's computer is nothing compared to the heat burning in his veins.
And then the guy fucking shivers again.
Alex is never going to get any work done at this rate if he doesn't find a way to raise Mr. Shaky’s body temperature.
Plus, he's curious.
Might as well at least talk to the guy.
Alex stands, pulling his hoodie off over his head and walking toward the other table.
“Here,” Alex says, holding it out.
The man blinks up at him. “Pardon?”
There’s an alluring accent there, even in those two syllables, and Alex is going to lose his fucking mind.
“You’re cold,” Alex points out. “And I’m warm-blooded.”
“Are you insinuating that I’m a… reptile of some sort?”
Alex tilts his head, fighting the smile trying to twist the corners of his mouth. “If I were, do you have a preference of which one?”
“Well, I’d like to think of myself as something strong, at least.”
“Alligator? Komodo dragon?”
“Perhaps, yes.”
“Nah, doesn’t fit,” Alex tells him, wrinkling his nose. “I’m thinking, like, one of those cute lizards that people keep as pets. A gecko, maybe.”
Alex knows he just admitted that he thinks the guy is cute, but a pleased expression spreads across that unbelievably attractive face, and Alex thinks that maybe it’s fine.
“A gecko?”
“You could sell insurance for Geico,” Alex says, grinning. “Way prettier than the mascot they have now.”
“Is that so?”
“I’d buy whatever you’re fucking selling, for sure.”
“Well, at any rate.” His cheeks are pink again, and this time the color is spreading down the column of his throat. Alex has the distinct vision of sinking his teeth into it. “I can’t take your jumper.”
“It’s a hoodie, Queen Elizabeth,” Alex replies. “And I can’t focus if you’re over here quivering a-fucking-way. You can give it back to me when you leave, or you can give me your number and I can get it back from you later, since it looks like you don’t have one.”
“I do. I did, I mean.” The guy sighs. “I, er, left my coat in a classroom earlier today. It was locked when I went to retrieve it, but I needed to study before going home for the evening, so I—”
Alex interrupts. “Take the jacket, baby.”
“Oh,” falls from the man’s lips in a sharp exhale. “My name is… uh, Henry.”
“Okay, mine is Alex,” Alex says, liking the way Henry echoes around in his brain. “And I repeat: take the jacket, baby.”
Henry reaches out and takes the hoodie, running his fingers over the fabric. He holds it up to his body first, but it’s one of Alex’s favorites, which means it’s two sizes too big for him. Despite Henry’s broader shoulders and longer frame, Alex knows it’ll fit even before Henry slides it over his head.
“Uh. Thank you,” Henry says.
Alex winks. “You’re welcome.”
It only takes five minutes for Alex to realize he's made a mistake. He thought that he would be less distracted, but now Henry is over there, like some beautiful marble Greek sculpture, wearing Alex’s fucking jacket and somehow looking sexier with more clothes on.
Alex huffs. He’s been reading the same goddamn paragraph over and over and over for nearly ten minutes, and he’s getting fucking nowhere. Running a hand over his face, he pulls out his phone.
Smartest Person I Know
nora
sos
hot cold guy at library
is one of us having an aneurysm
he was shivering
I gave him my hoodie
and he's stupid hot
are you asking for a wedding planner
what should i do
get down on one knee ig???
you're so unhelpful
its fucking 132 in the goddamn morning
just talk to him
or don’t
i need to emphasize how much i truly do not care
idk what if he doesn't like me
that would make two of us
🙁
i swear to god alex
just TALK TO HIM
Alex locks his phone and glances over again. Henry is toying absentmindedly with one of the strings hanging off the jacket hood, bottom lip caught between his teeth.
Just talk to him.
Yeah.
Alex can do that.
Picking up his stuff, he shuffles over to the table where Henry is sitting and plops himself into the chair across from him.
“Is something wrong with where you were sitting?”
Maybe Alex is tired and delirious, or maybe he’s just enamored and helpless, but he isn't really thinking about it when he says, “I'm staring at you anyway. I might as well make it easier on myself.”
“Hm.” Henry looks pointedly down at his textbook, but it doesn't hide his smile. “I hadn't noticed.”
Fuck, he's cute.
“Liar.”
Henry laughs, rubbing a hand over his face. “And an awful one, at that, eh?”
This time, Alex gets a whole two sentences written before glancing back over. Henry seems to sense his attention and looks up, raising an eyebrow when their eyes meet.
Alex holds up both hands before putting them back on his laptop keys, smiling to himself as he sees Henry do the same in his peripheral vision.
“What are you working on?” Alex asks a few minutes later, flexing his fingers.
Henry lifts the corner of his book to reveal US HISTORY 1860 TO TODAY on the front cover. “I have an exam tomorrow. I put off my history requirement until my last year, and now I'm studying for a history course in a country I did not grow up in.”
“Did you know that I actually grew up in this country?”
One corner of Henry's mouth twitches. “Did you?”
“Texas, to be specific. But I bet I could quiz you. I took that class my sophomore year and could have taught it better than the instructor.”
Henry shuts the book, leaning back in his chair. “Be my guest.”
Alex asks Henry questions based on what he remembers for a while, and when he’s run out of material, Henry pulls out a stack of notecards.
“You know they make these in colors,” Alex tells him, frowning at the solid white cards. “There aren't even lines on these, you heathen.”
“These are more practical.”
“You're wrong,” Alex retorts. “I bet you wear boring clothes, too. Do you own anything in color?”
“Neutral colors are, by definition, colors.”
“I’m gonna take that as a fucking no.”
“Are you always this ruthless regarding strangers’ wardrobes?”
“Nope.” Alex fixes Henry with his best smirk. “You’re just special, sweetheart.”
Henry narrows his eyes but smiles, seeming a little incredulous as he shakes his head.
And yeah, Alex can relate.
It's thirty minutes later that Henry takes his notecards back and starts to pack his things, reaching for the hem of Alex's hoodie as if to take it off.
Reflexively, Alex reaches out to put his hand on Henry's chest to stop that motion. He's not expecting to be met with hard muscle, tensing deliciously under his touch, and he snatches his arm back.
“You can keep it on.”
“Surely you want this back,” Henry says, brow furrowed. “It’s a nice jumper.”
“No,” Alex disagrees, clicking save on his document. His body feels shaky and anxious, like he's losing something and has to react quickly to save it. “I’m heading out, too, and it's fucking cold. Where are you going?”
“Oh, um. Just around the corner from here, actually. So, you can really—”
“Perfect.” Alex closes his laptop and shoves it in his book bag. “I’ll walk you back and then catch a cab from there.”
“You don’t have to—”
“Henry.” Henry stops, and Alex has to speak through the knot in his throat. “I would really like to talk to you outside of the walls of this godforsaken ice palace of a library, and maybe get your number before I go home tonight. Are you vehemently opposed to that idea, or are you just trying to be fucking nice?”
Henry licks his lips, and Alex adds another item to the list of things he wants to do tonight.
There's a pause while Henry considers him, hesitating just long enough for Alex's palms to sweat, for him to wonder if he actually has been too forward, too pushy, too much.
But then, Henry smiles.
“I am decidedly not opposed to that idea.” Henry shifts his weight from one foot to the other. “I think I would like that very much, actually.”
Alex grins. “Good. Come on, then.”
It’s really not a long walk, so Alex tries to get as much out of their fifteen minutes as he can. He learns that Henry is from London, studying English Literature, loves romantic comedies and Star Wars, and has two older siblings who drive him just as crazy as June drives Alex.
The conversation is sweet and effortless, like they’ve known each other for twenty years instead of a few hours. It’s not something Alex has experienced to this degree before, and he’s doing his best not to spiral as he listens to Henry talk.
But he thinks he’s already falling a little in love as Henry tells Alex about his dog, his fascination with the constellations that was sparked by his late father, how scared he was when he moved away from home. There’s a fire in his words as he speaks about finding his path, passion and love and so many aspirations that Alex recognizes.
They seem so different on the surface, but Alex is curious about what he might find if he pulled back the layers of Henry. Part of him thinks he would find something similar to what resides in his own chest, that the pieces of him would match the pieces of Henry.
When they get to Henry’s door, Alex wishes that they had more time.
There’s a moment where he thinks about asking to stay, but he wonders if he did, if they would burn too bright, too quickly. Something in Alex wants to do this right. Or, at the very least, more right than he usually does. There’s this weird, twisting feeling in his chest that this could be something that he wants to keep for a really long time.
And maybe that means starting with a goodbye.
“Would you like your jumper back?” Henry asks.
Alex shakes his head. “Not really.”
“Alright.”
“I’ll be honest, I expected more of a fucking argument.”
“Well.” Henry runs a hand over the hood. “It is nice. Smells quite lovely, too.”
“Oh yeah?” Alex wiggles his eyebrows. “What do I smell like?”
Henry rolls his eyes. “A menace who accosts people in libraries to insult their study materials and wardrobe choices.”
“That seems oddly specific.” Alex purses his lips. “But, uh. There is kind of something else I want, though.”
“And what’s that?”
“A kiss,” Alex admits, drifting closer. “And your phone number, if you’ll let me have it.”
Henry blushes, and Alex thinks about getting someone to capture that flush in a painting—it’s so fucking beautiful.
“A bit greedy, don’t you think?” Henry asks, raising an eyebrow.
“Is it greedy, or is it taking initiative?”
“What’s the end goal for your initiative?”
“I—” Alex stammers, a million possibilities filtering through his mind. “I haven’t gotten that far yet, but we can figure it out.”
Henry smiles. “We can.”
“So can I kiss you?”
“I might be devastated if you don’t.”
“Fucking sweet,” Alex replies, and then he’s taking Henry’s face in his palms and leaning up to press their mouths together.
Henry hums against his lips, wrapping his arms around Alex’s waist. A shiver races down Alex’s spine that has nothing to do with the chill in the air. His hoodie is soft and warm when he slides his hands down to Henry’s chest.
It makes Alex feel a little lightheaded as Henry tilts his head and deepens the kiss, like all the oxygen has been sucked from the air but also like Alex has learned to truly breathe for the first time in his life.
“Fuck,” Alex whispers when he pulls away.
“Quite,” Henry murmurs, leaning his forehead against Alex’s.
Alex swallows. “I know I said a kiss, but do you think—”
Henry kisses him again before Alex has finished speaking, one of his hands sliding into Alex’s hair. There’s the gentlest brush of Henry’s tongue against Alex’s lips, the tiniest taste that nearly makes Alex break his personal promise to not ask if he can stay.
All too soon, Henry leans back. “Would you also still like my number?”
“You bet your fucking ass, baby.”
Alex hands over his phone and lets Henry type in his information on a new contact page, his grin wide and nearly painful when he takes his phone back.
“And you’re sure you don’t want your jumper returned tonight?”
And Alex can’t help it—he leans in for one more kiss.
“We are deep into hoodie weather for the year, and you don’t have your jacket,” Alex says. “You keep it.”
“For tonight?”
“Sure,” Alex replies.
But he has a feeling that Henry will wind up keeping it for much, much longer.
(He’s right.)