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The texts come through in the middle of my French lit class. Thinking it might be Jeremiah, I slip my phone out of my pocket and peek, already smiling.
It’s Tom, Jere’s fraternity brother.
Oh no. Frowning, I tuck my phone back into my pocket. Jeremiah has been beating himself up over his math final all week, spending all his time in the library to try to stay focused, and it sounds like he might’ve just hit his last wall. Tom has been tutoring him, but math just isn’t Jere’s thing, not like history or any of his business and media classes. It never has been and it’s probably starting to feel like it never will be.
I just wish there was more I could do. The flashcards I made him earlier in the semester were a bust. Studying together is out because I'm not much better at math than he is, which is where Tom comes in. Moral support is all I've got going for me and it sounds like he needs an extra burst of that right now.
After my class gets out, I stop by the cafe next to the library to grab a couple of Jeremiah’s favorite strawberry peach energy drinks and a Cherry Coke for me, then head inside and up to the second floor.
I spot him before I reach the top of the stairs. Even though he’s clear across the large space, his golden curls glow like a halo under the overhead lights, and his red and navy striped sweater stands out in the muted room. As I make my way over to him, he shoves both hands through his hair and tugs in frustration.
“Hey,” I say, setting the drinks down in front of him.
His curls spring free of his fingers and end up pointing every which way as he looks up at me miserably. “You’re in love with a stupid person.”
“You are not stupid. Math is just dumb.”
“Why can’t it be dumb and still stick in my brain?” he moans. “I’ve practically lived in this library all week not getting to see you near enough for my sanity and I’m not any closer to being able to pass this test than I was on Monday.”
Sighing, I sit on his lap and loop my arms around his neck. “Nothing Tom’s been showing you works?”
“No. I’m going to fail, Bells, and I can’t fall behind any more than I already have.” He thunks his head onto my shoulder. “My dad is going to kill me.”
He won’t, but Adam will definitely give him a stern talking to, which is the equivalent of kicking a puppy with how hard Jeremiah tries to be a son his father might care about. That’s something he’s working on in therapy.
“Do you want to take a break? Maybe grab a snack? I brought you a drink.”
He runs a finger over the side of the can, drawing a heart in the condensation. “Thank you, but if I drink any more caffeine, my brain is going to explode. Can we walk around or something? My ass is numb from sitting in this chair for the last”—he looks at his watch—“four hours. Fuck.”
I slide off of his lap and offer him a hand. He takes it and hobbles to his feet like he’s eighty years old. I swear his back even pops. “Wow. Okay, grandpa. Good thing the soccer season is over. Need me to find a walker?”
“Funny,” he grumbles. “After this damn test, I’ll be sure to remind you exactly how young and virile I am.”
“Virile?” Laughter bubbles out of me. “Have you been reading old romance novels again?”
“That was one time. I was bored.”
“Uh huh. Come on. We’ll take it slow. One lap around the stacks, nothing too strenuous.” I hold onto his arm and pretend I’m keeping him steady as we head toward the aisles of books. “Lean on me if your knees can’t handle the strain.”
The side eye he gives me is hotter than side eye has any right being. “I don’t see how mocking me is going to help me pass math. I was mocking myself just fine on my own, thanks.”
He's worse off than I thought if he isn’t in the mood to be teased. Changing tactics to something more foolproof, I tuck myself into his side and smile up at him. “Has anyone told you how handsome you look today?”
“If they have, my brain was too full of polynomials and linear equations to notice.” He lifts an eyebrow. “Are you saying I look handsome? I might be able to make room in my head to hear that. You look very pretty, by the way.” He touches the fuzzy knit of my cream colored sweater. “I love when you wear this. It makes me want to cuddle.”
Got him. “Maybe that’s why I wear it. Meanwhile, you look handsome and hot. And seeing you around books?” I gesture to the stacks all around us. “Huge turn on.”
His face light with surprise. “It is?”
“For a bookworm like me? You have no idea.” I turn us down one of the aisles and run my fingers along the smooth book spines we pass. “The country club might not be Narnia, but a library sure is. So many places to explore…and get lost. Together, preferably.” I bat my eyelashes and snuggle closer.
His eyes narrow as he studies my face. I mentally flip through every dirty thought I’ve ever had about hiding away in a dark corner of the library and wait for him to see it all in my mind.
“Fuck,” he groans. “I want to do whatever you’re thinking about. Where?”
I glance around at the sea of shelves and books. A semester isn’t long enough to know any good hiding places. “What’s the least busy floor?”
“No idea and I don’t care. Let’s go.”
He grabs my hand and tows me deeper into the stacks. After a couple of turns, hopping a few aisles over when we stumble across a student sitting cross legged on the floor with a thick philosophy book in her lap, and a few more turns after that, Jere tugs us to a stop. “This is lost enough.”
We crash together in a desperate, fiery kiss that takes my breath away. Not that he’s letting me breathe anyway. I wind my arms around his neck and hang on for dear life as we pour how much we’ve missed each other into how our mouths give and take and take even more. It’s like we can’t get close enough, not even when he bends me over his arm because he’s too tall for us to be pressed together everywhere if he doesn’t.
A frustrated sound slips from his chest and then he’s crouching, grabbing my knees, hauling me higher so he can wrap my legs around his waist.
Yes, this is what I need. I lock my ankles behind him, both of us intertwined, and make sure there’s not even a sliver of space between our bodies. My back hits the wall of books as he presses closer still.
“I want you so damn bad,” he rasps and then licks his way deeper into my mouth.
God, how I want that. With the way Jeremiah is kissing me and the rhythmic press of his body against mine, I’m in danger of forgetting my name, let alone being the sensible one in this situation. Ten more seconds of this and I’ll give him whatever he wants. Probably would’ve already if I wasn’t wearing jeans. We’ll be expelled for sure.
The shelf of books behind me shudders.
I break away on a gasp but his mouth chases after mine and he presses into me again.
Another shudder.
“Jere, wait.”
He’s dazed when he blinks his eyes open.
“The bookshelf,” I say urgently. “We’re going to knock it over.”
That sobers him up in a hurry. He swings me around, keeping me locked around him, and eyes the shelf. “Are these things not bolted down?”
I have no idea, but with how he was rocking into me, bolts might not have been enough.
“Shit, okay. Let me just…” He sets me on my feet, looking so sad about having to stop that I want to laugh, but the fact we almost sent the stacks of books domino-ing through the second floor keeps me in check.
“How about this," I say. "You pass your math final and I’ll let you pick your reward.”
“Any reward I want?”
“Any reward that doesn’t involve knocking over all the bookshelves in the school library.”
He runs his palms over my shoulders and down my arms. "Mmm. Bells, that's nearly blanket consent. You know how much I love it when you give me that."
I do. He's very good at showing his gratitude. I suspect his reward is going to feel like my reward once he's done.
Cupping his face in my hands, I give him a quick kiss. “Let’s go study.”
Tom is bent over his own thick textbook by the time we get back. He shoves aside the flop of his dark hair as he glances up, assesses the two of us, and rolls his eyes. “Suckfaces. Feeling better?”
“Feeling motivated,” Jere amends as he pulls out a chair for me. “Bells, can you stay the rest of the afternoon? You’re good for my brain.”
Tom snorts. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”
Feeling my cheeks heat, I pull out my French lit book and a pack of highlighters. “I’ll stay, but there’s no way I’m sitting for four hours straight. We’ll need to go for a walk at least once an hour.” Alone, preferably. On a floor Tom isn’t, because he will absolutely come find us if he thinks I’m distracting Jere for too long. He’s serious about his tutoring.
“Every hour, huh?” Jere cracks open his energy drink and gives me a wicked grin. “My pleasure.”
And mine, too. He’ll make sure of it.