Page 30 of Beyond the Hedge Maze

Jesse stood in the center of the room with his back to Oliver. His hands were in his hair, elbows bent and exposed with his shirt sleeves rolled. His fingers flexed, and Oliver watched the veins in Jesse’s forearms pulse. That sight should come with a warning label.

Oliver would have happily stayed and silently stared if it weren’t for the absolute chaos in front of him. Most of the books had been emptied from the shelves and were haphazardly stacked in random piles throughout the room. Oliver picked one up from the pile closest to him. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“Don’t touch that!”

Jesse swiveled around, and Oliver nearly burst out laughing at the crazed look in his eye, his hair a mess. He lifted his hands in surrender and slowly returned the book to its previous resting place.

“Oh my God.” Jesse rubbed his face. “I’m so sorry. It’s your book, of course you can touch it.”

Oliver bit the inside of his cheek in another attempt not to smile. He wasn’t expecting to find Jesse so frazzled, but he loved it. He loved the thought that maybe Jesse was feeling just as nervous to be back in each other’s orbit as he was. “Figured I’d check in. Everything going okay in here?”

Jesse sidestepped around several piles that looked dangerously close to toppling over, and moved to stand in front of Oliver. Before, he had been so overwhelmed by Jesse just being inside the house. Overwhelmed by the onslaught of memories that slapped him in the face from the first glimpse of him. He hadn’t had time to properly take him in.

The fit of the light blue button-down shirt Jesse wore was almost as indecent as the skintight compression shirt he had worn in the Boat Race. It was obvious that Jesse kept in shape, as evidenced by his early morning runs, but more so by his trim waist, the bulge of his biceps, and shoulders that should be studied. It wasn’t the body Oliver remembered—it was taller and broader, and far more tempting than anything his teenage mind could have dreamt up.

They were standing close, probably too close. If Oliver closed his eyes, he could imagine his trainers on the gravel in the maze. He could imagine the one, maybe two steps needed for those trainers to slot between Jesse’s.

Jesse was the first to break eye contact, rubbing the back of his neck which did nothing to keep Oliver from staring at his arms. “Books tend to be easier to evaluate, so I thought I’d start here.”

He should return to the study, go back to hiding. Because he had been unraveled by Jesse Alvarez before, and looking at him now, just being close to him again…He knew he didn’t stand a chance.

Oliver took a step backward, putting a bit of distance between them. He was liable in that moment to do something irrational, like be friendly—or try to climb him like a tree. “It doesn’t look easy.”

“Well, in my experience, appraising books is typically easier. Granted, I usually only have a handful at a time and not an entire library. Everyone thinks they have some rare first edition of something extraordinary, but that’s mostly not the case. Especially when you can find a rare bookseller on nearly every corner.”

Oliver mulled about the room. He stopped at a random pile and picked up another book, pretending to be interested. He needed a break from looking at Jesse.

“What’s the hardest?”

Jesse sputtered. “Hardest?”

“Thing to appraise.” Oliver hid a smirk behind the book in his hand, pleased he had ruffled him.

“Oh. Um. Furniture. Art, sometimes. It’s hard for me to distinguish what was actually done by the artist and what was completed by an apprentice in their studio. I thought maybe you could help with that…”

Oliver needed to change the subject. Replacing the book, he turned back to Jesse. “So what was the purpose of taking every book off the shelf? Why not take one down, make an assessment, and put it back?”

Oliver swore he saw Jesse’s eye twitch.

“There’s no system.”

The inside of his cheeks were going to be raw by the end of this conversation. “Of course, there’s a system. It’s a library. All libraries have systems.”

“Yours doesn’t. It’s not sorted alphabetically by title or author, not sorted by genre, I even checked to see if it was by publisher, or even publication dates. Nothing. It’s anarchy. Not a Dewey fucking Decimal in sight.”

Finally Oliver grinned, he couldn’t stop himself. Jesse looked so sheepish standing there, his face flushed behind a shadow of stubble that trickled across his cheeks and jaw.

“You already knew that, didn’t you?” Jesse asked. “You’re messing with me.”

“Apologies.” Oliver’s gaze latched onto Jesse’s expression. Even if Jesse had been embarrassed, he wasn’t afraid to show Oliver. Jesse had never been afraid to express any emotion with Oliver. Not ten years ago, and apparently not now, either. His resolve crumbled—the last bit of arseholery leaving his body. “Look, I sincerely do owe you an apology. I was surprised to see you. I’m under a lot of stress, things here aren’t…Well, you’re here, aren’t you? But that doesn’t excuse my behavior. I’m sorry.”

Jesse shrugged. “I hope I can help somehow.”

Oliver looked around the disheveled library—a clear reflection of how he was currently feeling. “I hope so, too. Is this a service Emerson usually provides? Organizing libraries?”

“It is now.” Jesse clapped his hands, rubbing them together. “I’m on a mission.”

Oliver smiled again and pushed up the sleeves of his jumper, watching Jesse watch him. “Walk me through the system, then.”