A Library Romance

*Nico's P.O.V.*

The bell for classes rings and Drake and I head towards home room. Mr. Schmidt gives me a death glare as Drake and I seat ourselves at a table. As expected, Abigail, a really annoying girl, skips to the table behind us. You’ll find out why in a second.

A finger jabs my shoulder roughly. A voice squeaks in my ear, “Nico.”

I turn around slowly, “What Abigail?”

“How was your holiday?” she asks, biting her bottom lip seductively.

Remember how I told you I’m gay? Well she can’t seem to grasp that fact.

“Great,” I turn around.

“Did you miss me?” she asks hopefully.

“Bunches,” I say sarcastically.

“Are you sure you haven’t changed your mind?”

“Sorry, but I’m still gay.”

“Are you sure?” she asks, grabbing my hand and placing it on her boob, “Are you really sure?”

“You know what I wish my hand were on, Abigail?” I say back seductively.

“What?” she asks, again hopeful.

“A nice. Hard. Thick. Throbbing. Cock,” I emphasize every word.

“But why?” she whines.

Drake is sitting awkwardly beside me. He knows I’m going to try my hardest to dissuade Abigail. He doesn’t want to hear it.

“A dick is beautiful, you know that. The length, the many nerve endings set throughout the entire thing. Just the one appendage can cause so much pleasure,” I whisper, “You know what I want to do to some of the guys in our class? I want to grasp their dicks firmly in my hand. I want to suck on it until they come and cry my name. I want to shove myself inside them and thrust until they scream so loud they hurt their throats.”

I gotta stop or I’m gonna turn myself on. Abigail shudders, blushing. Sick freak. I turn back around, smirking.

“Sorry,” I try not to laugh at Drake’s discomfort.

-----

After school I drive to the book store. I wish I was working with Deana but she has a soccer game. Instead I’m working with an old woman by the name of Ester. And I have to work the counter because Bill, the owner, told me she’s not allowed to run it since one time she chased a little kid out for dropping his drink. It was a good thing I had a book. I’d finished The Stand on Saturday and was starting Greg Iles’ Blood Memory today.

Again the familiar and warm scent of the wood and books comforted me as I stepped over the threshold in to the small book store. No one was in just yet so I took off my trench and scarf and situated myself on the leather sofa chair.

When does murder begin?

With the pull of a trigger? With the formation of a motive? Or does it begin long before when a child swallows more pain than love and is forever changed?

Perhaps it doesn’t matter.

Or perhaps it matters more than anything else.

We judge and punish based on facts, but facts are not truth. Facts are like a buried skeleton uncovered long after death. Truth is fluid. Truth is alive. To know the truth requires understanding, the most difficult human art. It requires seeing all things at once, forward and backward, the way God sees.

Forward and backward…

“Good book?” a male voice asks and I jump.

“Gesù Cristo,” I mutter, putting the book down.

I get up and walk to the counter. There he is again, Adlar Ackerman.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he smirks.

I just want to kiss those lips.

“You didn’t scare me, startled is all,” I correct him with a smile.

“What did you mutter anyway? I didn’t recognize it.”

“Oh, Gesù Cristo, it means Jesus Christ in Italian,” I chuckle.

“Oh,” he chuckles.

“So, what can I do you for?” I mentally slap myself; Adlar would never let me do him.

“Oh, I was wondering about a job here,” he says, looking at his hands.

“You want a job here? But don’t you work on the farm?”

“One; it’s winter, there is no farm right now. Two; I’m tired of doing everything my parents tell me. And three; why not here?”

“Oh, well, it’s just, not many people really want to work here.”

“Than why do you?”

“I’m emotionally attached,” I laugh, “I’ve been coming here ever since I was a kid. One day Bill just asked if I wanted to work here and I jumped at the chance.”

“Bill?”

“Oh, the owner. He’s pretty well my second dad.”

“Oh, cool, so, do you think I’d be able to work here?”

“Probably, I don’t see why not. Give me your number and I’ll talk to Bill before I close up and then I’ll call you tomorrow or something.”

Adlar writes down his number on a card from the desk. Before he hands it over he gives me a playful look, “This isn’t just you trying to get my number so that you can stalk me, is it?”

“Oh, ya, I’ve been planning it for months,” I say sarcastically.

“Oh, well in that case,” he chuckles, handing over the card.

I laugh, “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. And I also want to be finding a weird message on my voice mail some time,” he laughs.

“Gotcha.”

Adlar leaves with a wink.

-----

“Hey, Bill,” I say, knocking on Bill’s office door.

“Come on in, Nico,” he calls.

I walk in, seating myself on the couch.

“What do you want?” he looks up from his paper work.

“Guy came in looking for a job today.”

“Know him? Info?”

“Ya, he’s nineteen; one of the Ackerman boys.”

“One of the Ackerman boys wants to work at my shop?” he asks skeptically.

“Ya, he claims he’s tired of doing what his parents want.”

“Is he a good kid?”

“Oh, ya, practically squeaky clean. No worse than me.”

“Ha, ‘cause that means a lot,” he chuckles, “Ya, all right, he’s in. Work out the schedule with him, Deana, Ester, Fred, and Marge.”

“Sure thing, have a good night.”

“You too, kid.”

-----

“He was totally flirting with you!” Deana shrieks happily.

We’re currently sitting on the front steps of the school. It’s lunch time and I’ve just finished telling Drake and Deana about Adlar’s second visit.

“Come on, Adlar, the Adlar, could not have been flirting with me.”

“Sorry, Nico, but sure as hell sounds like flirting to me. He winked at you for fuck’s sake!” Drake exclaims, patting my back.

“I still have to call him,” I mutter.

“Then do it, right now!” Deana screams happily.

“All right, all right,” I mutter.

I pull out the card with his number, typing in the numbers on my LG phone. It dials three times before he picks up.

“Yo, Adlar here,” his masculine voice rings out.

“Hey, Adlar, it’s Nico, the fag,” I chuckle.

“Oh, hey,” he says embarrassingly.

“Listen, I hate to break it to you-”

“I didn’t get it,” he mutters.

“Actually, you did. Bill trusts me. How the hell do you think Dee got a job; by her own personal wit and charm?”

“Hey!” Deana cries, smacking my arm.

“Oh, that’s great,” Adlar laughs.

“Ya, so we’re going to have to have a meeting. We need to figure out the schedule. Does Thursday evening work for you, around five?”

“Ya, perfect, I’ll see you there.”

“Oh, and just to warn you, I’m boss, so don’t go thinking I’m gonna take it easy on you,” I chuckle.

“I’ll keep that in mind, sir.” Adlar laughs.

“All right, see you tomorrow.”

“Bye.”

I hang up.

“Fuck ya!” I scream, jumping up and doing a dance. I jump on Deana, kissing her cheek sloppily. I then move on to Drake where I start squeezing him as he tries to run away with all his might

“Adlar Ackerman knows who I am.”

“Okay, dude, get off me,” he shoves.

I stop, and then shriek, “What am I gonna wear?!”