Page 25

DIESEL

I only have one thing on my mind when I pull up to the library Symphony told me about—feeling her body clench around my hand.

A place like this is going to be a quickie by design. I joked with Merrick this morning when we picked up some kegs that he might want to make sure he has bail money handy.

He just shook his head. But he’ll come through. A little public indecency never hurt a bar owner’s career. It might actually draw more people to the Leaky Skull, given our clientele. I’d probably run into some of them during booking.

I take the concrete steps two at a time, almost roaring at the stone lions lounging on either side. I feel like an animal on the prowl, ready to partake in the most basic of carnal acts.

But stepping inside is like rolling back two decades of my life.

It’s the smell of the place, the stacks in neat rows, and the sprawl of people in chairs, books in hand. It hits me in a long-lost place. Childhood. Parents. Before skipping town, joining the Army, the desert tours.

I’m ten, following my mom inside the library in our hometown. She’s taking Greta and Sunny to a baby story time. Merrick and I are allowed to wander the stacks and pick out books.

Sometimes, we stick to the juvenile section. Other times, we sneak into the health and sex section to look at illustrations of naked people. Or intestines. Both were good.

I forget to look for Symphony, taking in the high ceiling, the carts parked at the ends of rows. The checkout desk.

It’s been a wildly long time.

“Diesel?”

I turn to spot Symphony, my whole body reacting to the sight of her.

She’s got the schoolgirl look down today, her blonde hair twisted up messily, skewered with a pencil.

She wears a white button-down over a black-and-white checked skirt.

I remember what she said about no panties and have to will my dick to stay in check.

I clear my throat. “Hey.”

“You were checking this place out pretty hard.”

“That’s a library joke, right? Checking out.”

She laughs, and I’m caught by how her eyes go bright and her nose crinkles. “Didn’t realize it. Have you ever been here? It’s my favorite library.”

“Never. What makes it your favorite?”

She walks up the main aisle, pointing at the ceiling. “I love this domed roof. It lets light in and makes you feel like you’re in a cathedral, like reading these books is sacred.”

I get that. “Was this always a library, or did they reuse a church?”

“I think they built it this way. Maybe they intended for us to make the connection.”

We pass the information desk and stacks of nonfiction.

Toward the back is the children’s area. When I spot a circle of mothers on the floor, the librarian in a chair holding up a book, my legs stop moving.

I’m frozen, almost sure I will spot Mom there with a mesmerized Sunny and a bored, wiggly Greta.

“I never got to go to a story time,” Symphony says. “Did your mom take you?”

Did she? I remember going when we were older, when the girls were young enough to take part. But I don’t recall sitting in that circle. Maybe we were too young for it to fix in our brains. Or maybe we were little assholes who wouldn’t sit still, and Mom gave up.

“She definitely brought my sisters. Merrick and I were older by then. We’d wander around.”

“What did you look for?”

“Books that didn’t look boring.”

Symphony pulls a Dogman book from a display. “Like these? Graphic novels are all the rage.” She flips through it, showing the comic-book style pages.

“We would have read the hell out of that. We were into Captain Underpants. ”

“I remember those.” She sets down Dogman . “Oh, look!” She points to a hardcover emblazoned with the bald man with a cape, wearing nothing but big white underwear. She passes it to me.

“I haven’t seen that in a hot minute.” I flip through the pages, stopping on the part where Harold and George rearrange the letters on the school lunch sign.

“Merrick and I did this once. There was a marquee in front of the school where they announced things like parent-teacher night or vacation holidays.”

“You didn’t!”

“We did. It was our favorite part of the books, and we jumped at the chance to be like them.”

“Do you remember what you put on there?”

“Let me think. I’m pretty sure it said, ‘Christmas Break,’ and we changed it to ‘Karate Ms Birch.’”

Her face lights up. “Please tell me Ms. Birch was the PE teacher.”

“Worse. She ran the after-school detention.” I can’t help but grin at the memory.

“Yes! Oh my gosh!”

I keep paging through the book. “You might find this hard to believe, but Merrick and I got a lot of detention.”

Her laugh makes every muscle in my body relax. “How close are you two in age?”

“Ten months. We ended up in the same grade because I’m September, and he’s July. We both made the kindergarten cutoff.”

“So, you had a built-in best friend.”

“I did. To the terror of all who tried to tame us.” I can’t stop looking at the book. Every drawing, every expression, every plot point is like turning back time. I remember more than the story. I feel what it used to be like to be me, to think like I did as a kid.

“I love this about you.” Symphony sorts through more of the books on the display. “I was more of a Junie B Jones girl.”

“My sisters read those.” I find a page where Principal Krupp turns into Captain Underpants, and I can’t help but chuckle. “These are still good.”

She picks up a Goosebumps . “Now, these are classic.”

I glance up, instantly recognizing the cover. “I read them all.”

“I did, too.” She gathers a few of them, plus a Junie B Jones , and leads us over to a cushioned bench.

Here, the sound of the librarian’s exaggerated interpretation of The Very Hungry Caterpillar filters over to us as we look through the old favorites.

Symphony reads me random paragraphs from her books. I point out my favorite pages from mine. We go through everything she brought over, then hunt for picture books we both knew well enough to recite when we were small.

She holds up an open page. “I love you all the way to the moon … and back.”

My body goes still. Mom read that one to me. Hearing it in Symphony’s voice makes something shift. A low-level panic spreads through my gut. What am I doing here with her? Why is this taking me back to my fucking family ?

The librarian pops her head over to where Symphony and I are sitting on wiggle seats by the board books. “Need any help finding something?” she asks.

I’m ready to bolt, but Symphony says, “Just remembering our favorites.”

The woman peeks at our choices, her dark hair falling forward. “It’s good to have core memories like these. A family that reads together is the best predictor of long, happy relationships.”

I slam the book closed. Not fucking true at all. Jesus. Does everything come back to that?

I turn to Symphony. “Am I fucking you or not?”

Symphony’s eyes dart to the librarian. “Thank you for your help.”

The woman turns away, her cheeks pink.

“What did you do that for?” Symphony asks.

“Well, that was why we came, right? Isn’t that why you have on your little schoolgirl skirt?”

Symphony stands up in a rush, no easy feat on the wobbly discs designed to keep fidgety kids active. “What the hell is wrong with you, Diesel? We were having a good time looking at books.”

Fuck. I don’t want to get into it. “You were going to show me the book room, as I recall.”

Her voice is shrill. “I can’t do that!”

“Why not?”

She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. Then she says, more calmly, “We’ve already startled the librarian.

She’s going to notice us. You blew it with your own fucking audacity.

” She flings her copy of Guess How Much I Love You at my chest and whirls around fast enough that I think I might have glimpsed her naked ass.

By the time I extricate myself from the damn seat, she’s halfway up the aisle to the door. The librarian who spoke to us watches as I chase after her. “Symphony, stop.”

But she doesn’t. She pushes straight out the door and down the steps.

I catch her on the sidewalk. “Hey. Stop!”

She shakes her head and keeps going. “No.”

But when she arrives at a gray car, she has to fight with her tiny bag to get a key. “Stupid tiny purse.” She empties things onto her hood.

I step between her and the car. “Hey. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been an asshole in front of the librarian.”

“You think?” She keeps searching until she drags out a key. Two condom wrappers come out with it to land on the ground.

“You came prepared.”

She bends down to pick up the condoms, revealing a lot of thigh. My groin tightens.

She shoves the packets back into her purse. “Please get out of my way so I can gather my things and go.”

I need to pivot. “Can we go somewhere? Maybe get a drink?”

“At two in the afternoon?”

“Okay, coffee. Or a cupcake. I don’t know. I don’t want you to be pissed at me.”

She reaches around me to pick up the wallet and comb she left on the hood. “I don’t know. I think this was all a terrible idea. I’m me. And you’re … you.” She clicks the remote to unlock her door.

I move in her way. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean, you’re driven by your dick.” She waves in the general direction of my crotch. “And while I do like your dick quite a lot, we know how this thing ends.”

My jaw clenches. “And how is that?”

“With you getting bored with me, and me getting my heart broken.”

“What’s your heart got to do with it?”

She lets out a sharp sound. “Fuck you, Diesel. We’re not going to find out. Now, get out of my way.” She shoves me so she can get in, but I don’t budge. I’m aware that this is an asshole move, bordering on stalking, but I’m not giving up.

“Let’s go somewhere, Symphony. Nobody’s dick and nobody’s heart have to be involved. Just two civilized people moving past their first fight and figuring each other out.”

That makes her stop. “Is that what this is? A first fight?”

I fiddle with my chain. I’m nervous. I’m continuing something I never should have started. But letting her go is causing a bigger panic than the thought of keeping her. “Yeah. You learned where I end and you begin. I shouldn’t be crude around librarians, and you shouldn’t overreact when I fuck up.”

“You’re saying I’m overreacting?”

“Not to the crude part. But now when I’m trying to make up for it.”

“Fuck you.” She hurries around the car like she’s going to get in the other side.

I’m a step ahead of her and block that side, too.

“Symphony. I’m not going to get bored with you.

I’ve already fucked you twice more than any girl in five years.

More than that, really, but that’s counting since I’ve been back stateside.

And I’m anxious for more. A lot more. So, please tell me you’ll meet me somewhere around here, and we can be like a normal couple for five minutes.

Like we were in there.” I aim my thumb toward the library building.

This gets her. She looks up at me. “You haven’t had sex with anyone more than once? In years?”

I sniff. “Right. You got it. So, are we meeting?”

“You used the word couple .”

Goddamn it. She’s going to tease out every word. “I did. Let’s go somewhere.” I’m running out of the ability to argue with her. I’m about done.

“Okay,” she says. “There’s a coffee shop two streets down. We could walk.”

“It’s kind of windy.”

She laughs. “Big tough Diesel afraid of some wind?”

I glance down at her skirt. “Nobody’s looking at that ass but me.”

“Oh, right.”

I open her passenger door. “Get in. I’ll drive you.”

“Um, all right.” She slides in.

I bend over the opening, blocking anyone else’s view. “Can I get a little show before I close this door?

Her cute throat bobs for a second. “What makes you think you deserve a peek?”

“Because you enjoy torturing me.”

“Actually, I do.” She lifts the base of her skirt, parting her thighs an inch so I get a nice view of the thatch of hair above that beautiful pink. She must sense a movement on the sidewalk because she quickly tosses her skirt back down. “Good enough for you?”

“Not even close. But I’ll make it until I can get my face in there.”

I notice the flush across her cheeks before I close the door.

We’re gonna figure this thing out.