Page 6

Since I’m not just making a beeline for the reception desk, everything looks unfamiliar.

There’s only a handful of people in here tonight. It’s after dinnertime, but not late enough that it’s completely silent. Whispering from every corner distracts me momentarily as Iwonder what people are talking about…and feel a few pairs of eyes on me.

My focus immediately shifts when I spot him.

Ethan.

He’s sitting at a small two-person table near the back of the library, away from the computers and nestled between two tall bookcases.

His bright blonde hair is easy to spot, even in the dim overhead lighting.

I adjust my book bag over my shoulder and head over there. My black designer combat boots feel heavier than normal, and their thuds on the carpeted floor are louder than any other noise in here.

Just as I reach the table, Ethan’s pretty green eyes flick up to me, disinterested at first, but then they widen.

“What…?” he says slowly. “Dante?”

I take a step to the side, as if I wasn’t just walking in the exact direction of his table.

“Well hey there, pretty boy.” I smirk at him.

The skin around his nose instantly reddens.

“Uh, hi,” he replies and sits up straighter, no longer hunching over his laptop and notebook. “Do you need the table?”

I raise a brow.

“You know, because it’s closer to a plug,” he tells me. Ethan motions to the side, and I follow his fingers, seeing a two-slot plug, one taken up by his laptop charging cord.

“Right, yeah. You mind?” I ask, but I’m already sitting down in the hard wooden chair across from him.

“No…there’s room,” he says, and moves his things closer to him. I swear I can see his pulse racing in his neck.

“Fuck yeah. Ethan, was it?” I ask, locking my eyes to his, never looking away for even a moment.

He licks his lips before he speaks. “Yup. Ethan Moore.”

Yeah, I know.

I smirk, both at him and to myself.

For another moment he just looks at me, then looks away and down at his work, as if he’s trying to figure out if he should keep talking to me or focus.

I move my bag in front of me, unzip it, and take out a notebook.

The tension in the air is already thick, and I can’t help but look at the way his fingers gently turn the mechanical pencil between them…

…and wonder what his hands would feel like on my dick.

3

ETHAN

Dante Romano is sitting across from me in the library.

Not across the room, and not even across from me at a long table, but within arm’s distance at a small two-person table. His dark hair is even more inky in the dim lighting of the library, and his piercing blue eyes seem to brighten as he stares at me from just a couple feet away.

I can’t help but look at him as he unzips his backpack. His fingers are long, thick…even his knuckles are tattooed.