Note: contains scenes of a homoerotic nature.

I was that small tow-headed boy who sat by himself on the school bus, eyes wide behind thick glasses and nose buried in a book. So to me, a library job sounded perfect. My junior year of college I applied for a position and found myself working evenings seven to midnight, Monday through Thursday, with weekends off. Because I was the new guy on the shift, I got assigned to returns.

In theory, it sounded simple enough -- each book had its place on the shelves and none of the patrons could be expected to put anything back where it belonged. All books that came into the library were sorted and stacked onto carts, spine up and sorted by floor. Once a cart was full, I dragged it to the elevator and began the arduous task of putting the books back in their proper places. With five stories of stacks, one cart could take most of the night to empty, and any books left lying around the study carrels were to be re-shelved, too. As I pushed along my first cart of heavy hardcover books, I told myself returns weren't all that bad. Some people just hated busy work.

But my cart had a bad wheel that jiggled as I steered it towards the elevators. The noise filled the quiet library, making me cringe with each step. At the elevators, I bullied the cart inside an empty lift and hit the button for the fifth floor.

Nothing happened.

I hit the close button but the doors refused to obey. I hit the fifth floor button again -- nothing. "God," I muttered, leaning on the button. My reflection in the mirrored interior muttered in response -- pale eyes blinked at me from behind wire-frame glasses almost obscured by straight blonde bangs. "Close," I encouraged. Thin lips moved on my reflection, a ghostly mimic. Close.

Disgusted, I let go of the button. As if by magic, the doors slid shut. "Thank you." With a jerk, the elevator began its long, slow haul up while my stomach stayed behind.

Almost out of spite, the doors started to open halfway between the last two floors. I watched with sick fascination as the ground beneath my feet crept up to meet the level of the fifth floor. The elevator stopped with a good inch left to spare. Note to self, I thought, tugging the cart out after me, never take the one on the right again.

The cart's bad wheel bumped against the uneven floor and turned, wedging itself in the gap between the floor and the elevator. "Oh fuck me," I sighed. I hated elevators and I hated returns, in that order. When I tried to lift the heavily laden cart up to move it, the wheel pulled free from its socket and stayed put.

Slowly, the elevator doors began to slide shut.

Beneath my breath, I cursed. "I fucking hate returns."

The doors stopped when they hit the cart and opened again. Pushing the cart aside, I bent down to tug the wheel free from the gap but it was stuck in there good and didn't budge. I got on my knees and waited for the doors to close, catch on the cart, and open again before I leaned in to grab the wheel with both hands. But my sweaty fingers couldn't get a decent grip and slipped right off. I tried running a finger under the wheel, maybe to push it loose, but my knuckle was too big to get up under it and I almost lost my hand when the doors tried to close again. They hit the cart, bounced open, and on the other side I heard a handful of books tumble to the floor.

Now I hated libraries in addition to elevators and returns, and in another minute more I'd probably swear off reading altogether. With a disgruntled huff, I fell back onto my butt and knocked against the legs of someone standing behind me. "Enjoying the show?" I asked, bitter.

"You need some help?" came the reply. I ran my hand through my bangs to brush them out of my face and looked up to see dark eyes and dark curls above the brightest, sweetest, sexiest grin that had ever smiled down on me. I stared openly as he nodded at the wayward wheel. "Can't you get it up?"

Suddenly my mind spun out in a million different directions at once, leaving the elevator and the cart full of books far behind. My voice croaked when I told him, "I've never really had that problem before."

He laughed, a delicious sound that lit up his eyes. "Maybe if we both work at it, we can pull it out."

The frustration in me dissipated and I began to giggle. He gave me a quizzical look, a faint smile on perfect lips as if waiting to get in on the joke, and that only made me laugh harder. "I'm sorry," I sighed, struggling to breathe. "It's just -- oh God. My mind's in the gutter. I'm sorry." I took a deep breath to steady myself and quashed the last of my giggles to put on a straight face. "I'm sorry."

"Laugh at me after I give it a try," he told me, but there was humor in his voice and I liked the way his gaze lingered on me before he turned his attention to the wheel. "I'm Adam, by the way."

"Johnny." I scooted back as he approached the elevator, studying the problem. Absently, his backpack slipped off one shoulder to fall beside me on the floor, and when the elevator doors started to shut, Adam stuck his foot out to stop them. He circled the wheel, looking at it from all angles, even going so far as to kick it once but the thing still didn't move. In a low voice, I murmured, "Madam, I'm Adam." At his sharp glance, I shrugged. "It's a palindrome. Means it's spelled the same way forward as backward."

"I know what it means." Adam's smile was back, and the intensity in his gaze made me blush. "I'm impressed you do, too. And here I thought you were just another pretty face."

There was nothing pretty about me. But because he watched me so closely, waiting for some sort of answer, I shrugged and resisted the urge to push up my glasses. "I'm an English major."

That earned me a grin. "And he dodges the play."

I ducked, unsure of what it was he wanted me to say. "I'm sorry."

"It's cool," Adam told me. "You're obviously not interested --"

"I am," I said, a little too quickly. I wasn't sure if he meant what I meant, but God knew I wanted to find out. "I'm sorry --"

Adam nudged my foot with his. "Stop saying that already," he told me with a laugh. "You won't hear me apologize for hitting on you."

I bit back another sorry, my body buzzing at his words. With his back against the elevator's door jamb Adam sank to the floor, legs splayed out in a V so the wheel waited between his knees. I watched him wrestle with the wheel, rocking it back and forth in the gap until he managed to work it free. "Ta-da!" he cried, and I laughed as he held it up in victory. Pushing himself up off the floor, he told me, "I suggest you take the other elevator on your way down." He gave me the wheel, then lifted up one end of the cart. "I'll hold still while you shove it in, what do you say?"

"Do you always talk like this?" I asked, grinning, as I slid the wheel into its slot.

Adam helped me to my feet. His grip was strong and sure, his palm warm in mine, and he held onto my hand a moment longer than he needed to. "Only when I'm flirting with someone. Nice meeting you, Johnny. You come here a lot?"

"This is sort of my first day on the job," I admitted, pulling a rumpled piece of paper from my back pocket to show him my schedule.

He scribbled a phone number at the bottom of the page. "Call me or I'll come looking for you." With a grin, he added, "I know where you work."

****

By the middle of the week, I was surprised to find myself sick of the library. I started to think maybe I loved reading books more than I did working with them. At least returns let me work alone, and more than once I just hid among the stacks, leaning against my cart as I read through one of the books I was supposed to be putting away. Between my staggered schedule and classes, I hadn't had a chance to call Adam yet, but I couldn't get him out of my mind. To be honest, I didn't want to call him -- what if he didn't remember me? What would I say? You know, we met in the library. I'm the idiot the elevator hates. Yeah, that was me.

Wednesday evening found me upstairs on the fourth floor -- no problems with the elevator tonight. I learned real quick to exit first and lift the cart up over the gap to avoid getting stuck. By ten o'clock, there were very few students left on the upper floors. With plodding steps I pushed the cart down the first aisle ... why rush? I had all night to put these books away, and hundreds more waited downstairs. Might as well draw it out as long as I could, like pulling a Band-Aid off inch by excruciating inch in the hopes that maybe it won't hurt as bad.

No dice. Work was a bear.

If I were truly busy, time would soar past, catching me up as it went by. I glared at the first book on the cart, a thick volume of Shakespeare's plays, and thought about how much busier I'd be working circulation. At least then I would get a chance to interact with other people, see what everyone was reading, talk about books and maybe even run into Adam --

Something tapped me on the shoulder.

I whirled around but all I saw was the stack behind me, books lined up on it row after row like soldiers waiting for an order. There was an open space between the top of the books and the bottom of the shelf and I could see straight through to the bathroom doors on the far wall. No one there.

With a shrug, I turned back around and stood on the tiptoe to put the Shakespearian volume away. As I reached for the next book on the cart I felt a poke this time, something hard in the middle of my back. I spun around but still saw no one ...

A muffled laugh made me crouch down and there on the other side of the shelf, half-hidden behind the books, was Adam, hands covering his mouth as he tried not to laugh. Just seeing him again made me grin. "What are you doing?" I tried to sound angry and failed miserably.

It only made him laugh harder. "Picking on you." To prove his point, he snaked an arm through the opening between the books and the shelf above them and poked at my midriff before I managed to swat his hand away. "You haven't called me."

"I've been busy." I should have mentioned that the schedule I had so carelessly balled up before was now smoothed out and folded carefully, over and over again, until Adam's number was the only thing visible, but that might sound desperate. I kept the paper tucked in my wallet and frequently pulled it out to look at the scrawl of those seven digits. Even though I hadn't dialed yet, I knew the number by heart.

Nearby I heard the elevators open and I stood up, sure my boss was coming to check on me. Turning to put away the book I held, I kept my voice to a low murmur and told Adam, "I get in from work so late, you know. I didn't want to wake you --"

"I'd love to wake up to you," Adam said. Because I didn't know how to answer that, I let it slide. With a sigh, he wondered out loud, "What's a guy got to do to get your attention?"

I thought it was obvious he already had it, but then he reached through the bookshelves again and this time his hand traced the curve of my butt through my jeans before his fingers slipped between my legs. At his touch, so gentle and so unexpected, in places quivering for more, I jumped and knocked the cart away as books tumbled to the ground in a graceless heap. My knees shook when I squatted to clean up the books. "That worked."

Skirting the shelf, Adam came down my aisle and knelt down to help me gather up the fallen books. "Sorry about that," he said with a soft laugh. "I didn't mean to spook you or anything."

My face flushed and I ducked my head so he wouldn't see the color rising into my cheeks. "I just wasn't expecting it --"

Adam grinned. "Oh, like you wouldn't have spazzed if you knew I'd do it."

I shrugged and concentrated on straightening the books balanced on my knees -- this close I could smell Adam's faint scent, a light cologne I didn't recognize, and his dusky skin looked like burnished gold in the shadows of the shelves that towered over us. I stole quick glances of him and each time I looked up, I found him staring back. His eyes were dark depths I wanted to drown in, and his untamed curls hinted at a cottony softness that I could plunge my fingers into and grasp in my fists. God, I wanted him, more than I had ever wanted anyone else up to this moment in my life, and my desire made me dumb.

When most of the books were stacked on my knees, I wrapped my arms around them and started to stand but Adam had something else in mind. He reached out, running a hand up the front of my leg and down the length of my inner thigh. Through my jeans, his touch seared like the summer sun, his fingers dancing along my inseam as if eager for the bulge in my crotch. Startled, I fell backwards, away from him, the books thudding to the ground around me like an avalanche. Before I could recover, Adam crawled over me, a hungry look in his eyes. "Let me guess," he purred as he stretched out above me. "You weren't expecting that, either."

"Adam." I touched the strong, sinewy muscles in his arms, ran the tips of my fingers beneath the short sleeves of his shirt, and imagined a tryst right here, right now, the books on the shelves toppling down around us like rain until our entwined bodies were buried between the dusty, heavy pages, just two more characters in someone's story. I wanted him, ached for him, the front of my jeans obscene with longing as my glasses fogged from the sudden rise in body heat. In a tiny voice I barely recognized as my own, I whimpered, "Please."

He laughed, a haunting sound that seemed to reverberate through me. "We're in the library," he reminded me. "But maybe later, if you're up for it ..." He punctuated that thought by lowering his hips until his crotch rubbed against mine, our jeans the only thing keeping our erections apart. "Go out with me, Johnny. Say Friday? Dinner and a movie, how's that sound?"

It sounded wonderful. "Sure," I agreed, scooting back to get out from under him. My body protested -- I wanted to stay there beneath him for the rest of the night, feel him against me -- but I was still on the clock.

Then Adam touched his lips to mine in a gentle kiss that stopped all thoughts of getting back to work. I couldn't think, couldn't breathe -- I stared at his closed eyelids and the soft corkscrews of hair on the top of his head for a few heart-stopping moments before instinct kicked in and I shut my eyes, my mouth parting beneath his as I leaned into the kiss. For one delicious second his tongue licked into me, and then he pulled away. "Friday," he promised, pushing himself off the ground before he helped me up, as well.

****

The next day passed quickly, my mind full of daydreams about what Friday might bring. Even going to work didn't dull my mood, and the carts of returns didn't bother me as I looked them over before clocking in. Then I noticed a stack of folded paper beside the time clock, my name scribbled across the top page. "What's this?"

"New schedule," one of my co-workers said as she elbowed past me to clock out. "After the first week, some people always quit. So those of us left get a revised schedule. Hope you don't mind weekends."

Drifting toward the returns, I looked over the new schedule. I had afternoon hours three to five on Saturday, what a way to screw up the day. And Friday I was down seven to close, same as my other week nights ...

Friday. Oh shit.

****

During my break, I finally dialed Adam's number. My blood pounded in my temples and I massaged a sore spot just above my left eye, trying to work a budding headache away. After two rings, I was ready to hang up when the line clicked and Adam's voice filled my ear. "'Lo?"

"Adam." Just hearing him again soothed my jangled nerves. "It's me."

He laughed. "Hey me." I wondered if he recognized my voice or was just playing along, trying to place it. Before I could add my name, just to jog his memory, he breathed into the phone, "How you doing, sexy? I thought you were at work."

"I am." Sexy. What a silly thing to call someone like me, but it warmed me up inside and made me want to giggle foolishly. "I'm on break."

"So what's up?" I took a deep breath to steady myself and he asked, "Johnny? What's wrong?"

I glared at my schedule, torn into tiny pieces of confetti and littering the desk in front of me. "Don't hate me."

"I couldn't --"

I cut him off. "I've got to work tomorrow."

Silence.

"Adam?" I asked in a small voice. "I'm so sorry. Say something."

"What'd they do, change your schedule?" He sounded chipper, like it didn't bother him I was breaking off our date, but his tone rang false. "I thought you had Fridays off."

With a sigh, I explained, "Apparently some people quit --"

"Imagine that," he muttered, bitter.

I hated the pout I heard in my own voice. "You're mad at me."

"I'm mad at your boss," Adam pointed out. "Don't tell me they have you down for Saturday too."

"Can we go out then?" I asked, hoping I didn't sound too eager. "I work 'til five but we can do something after that. What do you think?"

Adam drawled, "I don't know. If you stand me up again…"

"I won't," I said, relieved. "I can come Saturday --"

"You better come," Adam laughed. Even on the phone, I blushed at his suggestive tone. "I'll be disappointed if you don't."

****

The next night I went to work with an attitude. For the first time in my entire life I actually had plans for a Friday night that didn't involve pleasuring myself, and I had to cancel. Who studied on the weekend? A handful of people lingered at the computers or in the reference section, but most of the upper floors were empty and the farther I went with my cart of returns, the fewer people I saw. On the fifth floor the stacks were empty. I shouldn't be here, I thought, angry that I hadn't asked anyone to switch shifts with me. I should be with Adam right now but no, I'm here in the library with all the other dateless geeks. Look around you, Johnny. How many other losers here do you see?

I decided then that I hated my job. Next semester, during the first week of classes when the campus facilities were hiring? I'd sign up as a computer lab assistant, or a department receptionist, food court cashier, anything but library help. If this wasn't the only library on campus, I'd boycott the place. As it was, any books I needed from now on would be bought at the campus bookstore -- no more checking out for me. I didn't want to ruin another poor bastard's evening by making him shelve books I returned.

Downstairs waited another half dozen more carts like the one I dragged around behind me. I could almost believe no one else on any of the other shifts even bothered with the returns. Fuck it. With no one to watch over me, I began sticking books onto the shelves haphazardly, wherever they fit. Who cared if their Dewey Decimal numbers lined up in sequence or not? Any student looking for a particular book would find it no matter where I put it on the shelf. As long as it was somewhere near where it was supposed to be, right? I mean, who really gave a shit?

With my new system, the cart emptied much quicker than before and by quarter after eight, I was in the elevator again, heading down for the next batch of books. I wanted to get through all the carts before I left at midnight -- a job well done on first glance, but the books would be scattered around the library, filed on the wrong shelves, the wrong stacks, the wrong floors even ... my small protest for the changed schedule. As if anyone would notice.

The elevator lagged, dropping so slowly I barely felt it move. If the number above the doors didn't change every few minutes, I could almost believe the lift was stuck. By the third floor I grew impatient; when the contraption ground to a halt at the second floor to let someone else on, I wanted to scream in frustration. The doors took years to open. Knowing my luck, the person waiting for the elevator had probably given up and taken the stairs, and I'd have to stand there like an idiot until the doors decided to close again. The cart took up too much space as it was, no one else could really fit ...

But when the doors finally yawned wide, Adam leaned against the wall, the strap from his pack slung across his chest and his arms crossed. Grinning broadly for the first time all night, I asked, "Can I give you a ride?"

Adam laughed. "Do you know how many strange looks I've gotten tonight? Just standing here stalking the elevators?"

Though I knew the answer, I wanted to hear him say it. "For what?"

"You."

The doors started to shut and I hit the open button to stop them. "You getting in?"

To my surprise, Adam grabbed the cart and tugged it out of the elevator. "You're getting off."

"Right here?" I asked, coy.

Adam gave me a salacious wink that made my blood surge. Then he pushed the cart aside and pointed to the closed door of a study room off to one side. "In there," he told me, taking my hand in his. I hung on and let him lead the way. Over his shoulder, he said, "This isn't exactly Blockbuster but they have a few films. Hope you like the one I picked."

"Wait ..." At the door to the study room, I stopped and tugged on Adam's hand until he looked at me. "What are you talking about?"

Patiently he explained, "This is the AV floor, right? They have films and stuff you can check out."

I knew that much. The study carrels on this floor were equipped with televisions and headphones for students who had to watch movies or shows for class. A number of study rooms could be reserved by groups of students who wanted to view the same movie at the same time. The room Adam guided me into was set up like a cinema, rows of chairs facing a large screen TV, the screen a vivid shade of blue. "Since you couldn't go out tonight --"

"We're going out tomorrow," I reminded him.

He gave me an indulgent smile as he sat me down into one of the chairs. "I want to be with you tonight," he said, sitting down beside me. A remote rested on a nearby chair and Adam reached for it. "And tomorrow. I got something I thought you might like."

"As long as it's not Titanic."

With a grin, he hit a button on the remote. Around us the lights dimmed. "Nice touch," I murmured. Another button turned on the DVD player, and the familiar FBI warning flashed up on the screen. Adam draped an arm across the back of my chair and hugged me close. When the menu came up on the TV, I laughed. "Brokeback Mountain? You're kidding, right? I hate to say this but I've seen it already."

"Good," Adam purred. One finger touched my cheek and turned my face towards his. Our lips brushed in a soft kiss. "I wanted something to set the mood," he whispered against my mouth. "Something that wouldn't distract us."

My pulse fluttered where his skin touched mine. "From what?"

His answer was another kiss, and this time when his hand eased between my legs, I didn't pull away.

****

About a week later I was working through returns, taking my time as I looked through the books before shelving them. Occasionally I found one that interested me and I set it aside, until I had a small stack that I wanted to read. It was another Friday night, but working long hours in the mostly empty library didn't bother me so much now. It had taken a few days, but I was beginning to settle into a routine of sorts.

As I glanced through a book of love poetry, someone stepped up behind me. Before I could turn around, warm hands clamped over my eyes. "Guess who?" Adam asked, then planted a damp kiss on the back of my neck.

I'd know his voice anywhere. "You better be my boyfriend, or he'll kick your ass when he gets here."

That earned me another kiss, this one on my ear, and then Adam dropped his hands to hug me against him. I half-turned in his embrace and found his mouth pressed to mine in a hungry kiss that left me breathless from its intensity. "That's a just preview," he whispered. "Wait 'til showtime."

I leaned against him, the books forgotten. "What's tonight's film?"

"Something French." At the strange look I gave him, Adam grinned. "Don't worry, it's subtitled. Not that we'll be watching it. I t's got full frontal nudity and real sex scenes, can you believe it? I looked it up online."

"And the library owns it?"

Adam gave me a wink that promised fun. "It's some art house crap, on reserve for students taking gay film this semester. Did you know they even offered a class like that? Why didn't anyone tell me? I'm switching majors."

I laughed. "To what, film?"

"Gay studies," Adam said, turning me around. His hands slipped into the back pockets of my jeans to cup my ass and he kissed me again, thrusting his hips to grind his crotch against mine. "Good thing I've already got us a room downstairs. We have some intense studying to do."

I couldn't wait to get started.

THE END