“If I think you’re not concentrating, I’m going to leave,” Kit said sternly—but quietly. He didn’t see any librarians, but that didn’t mean they weren’t lurking in the corners.
Holden chuckled. His thumb kept moving, tracing tiny circles. “I promise I’ll be good.”
“See that you are.” Kit slumped back in the chair. After triple-checking his phone was muted, he flipped open a game and started playing.
This was exactly what Kit had been doing at James’s house. But for some reason, sitting next to Holden was completely different. Kit hated the thought of depending on people, but fuck, it felt better sitting around doing nothingwith someonethan doing it by himself.
And Holden was exactly what Kit needed right now. An antidote to the insanity of the past couple days. Yesterday, Kit dressed up as a corpse so a professional assassin could stage his death. That was a lot even if Kit wasn’t a freak who was triggered by photographs.
This blocky, boring, quiet library might have been maddening. The whisper of pens and clatter of keyboards. The quick, echoing footsteps. The squeaks of side rooms opening and closing—the doors squeaking even louder when people tried moving them slowly.
Except Holden’s constant touch kept Kit grounded in himself. Focused, and increasingly forgetful of his vow not to interfere with Holden’s schoolwork.
Because while Holden worked, flipping pages and copying quotations and underlining whatever, his left hand remained on Kit. Starting from Kit’s thigh, then moving to Kit’s shoulder.Then his other shoulder, so Holden was half-hugging him as he worked. Gradually, their chairs slid closer together, until Kit’s thigh pressed against Holden’s.
Kit lost three mini games in a row before he gave up and locked his phone. Shoving his hands in his sweatshirt pockets, he followed the inevitable natural course of things and leaned against Holden.
Only when he fully relaxed under Holden’s arm did he realize how tense he had been.
Holden squeezed Kit’s opposite arm, then his hand crept lower, joining Kit’s hand in his sweatshirt pocket. The pocket was nearly too small for both their hands to fit, until Holden covered the back of Kit’s hand with his palm and slotted his fingers in between Kit’s.
Kit chewed his lip, trying not to squirm too obviously. Ducking his head, he kind of hoped nobody else was paying attention. He also kind of didn’t care, as long as Holden didn’t let go.
What the actual fuck? Since when did holding hands feel this slutty?
The whole time, Holden seemed totally focused on his work. His pen only stopped moving when he pulled a book closer to reference, and he filled two full pages of his spiral notebook. Like he was some kind of essay-outlining, Kit-maddening combo machine.
Twenty minutes later, Holden set down his pen and murmured into Kit’s ear, “I need another book. Come with me.”
“Sure,” Kit managed, his throat dry.
Holden disentangled himself, leaving Kit suddenly aware of how cold the air conditioned building was. Kit expected Holden to grab his hand again. Instead, Holden frowned and fished inhis front pocket for something. A piece of paper—but a small white object fell to the ground too.
“Shit!” Holden knelt and waved Kit back from helping. “Thanks, cutie, I’ve got it.”
“What is it?” Kit asked.
Holden straightened up again with an easy smile. “One of my friend’s DND dice. She left them at my place last time we played.”
It hadn’t looked like a die—Kit hadn’t seen any pips, and it was too small. But he hadn’t gotten a good look at it, and he was still buzzing and hot with Holden’s mere presence.
“What friend?” Kit asked, trying to sound cool. He was such a fucking hypocrite. Here Kit was, the day after fucking two guys at once, still sore from Darius’s cock, and he was jealous of Holden playing tabletop games with a friend.
Holden’s smile just widened. “Don’t be jealous of Soraya. I’m extremely gay, which means I only like boys. I’m also extremely picky, which means I only like really cute boys.”
“I wasn’t jealous,” Kit protested. Not very believably, probably.
“That’s too bad.” Holden glanced at the piece of paper, then tossed it on the table. “Come on, the book should be in this section.”
Stewing in his own hypocrisy, plus unreasonable disappointment that Holden hadn’t taken his hand again, Kit followed Holden into the stacks. The shelves were metal, and this far in the corner, tall enough to block out some of the overhead lighting. Kit briefly paused at a sign that said in bold red font:NO SWINGING ON LADDERS.
“What’s your paper about anyway?” Kit asked, hurrying to catch up.
Holden stood at the very end of the aisle, where the shelf met the wall. His long fingers jumped from spine to spine as he inspected the books in front of him. “It’s for my sociology elective. Come look at this.”
The molten heat in his eyes said Holden wasn’t thinking about textbooks right now.
After all the flirting and fondling, Kit expected the trap. He wanted it. He was somehow still surprised when Holden pushed him against the wall and seized his mouth in a kiss.
