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where are you?

His response comes seconds later.

library

I know exactly where he is. I can picture him sitting at one of the long tables near the windows, his textbooks spread out in front of him, his brow furrowed in concentration.

I head toward the library, scanning the main floor when I get there.

And there he is. Sitting at a table near the study rooms, his head bent over a thick textbook, a highlighter in one hand. I watch him for a few minutes, staying out of sight. I love watching him when he’s relaxed, unselfconscious, so himself.

He’s focused, seriously studying. The tip of his tongue pokes out slightly as he reads.

I pull out my phone and text him again.

where in the library? I can’t find you

I watch as he picks up his phone, reads the message, and types back.

near the study rooms.

I send another text.

i checked there. don’t hide from me, baby

His head snaps up, and he looks around, scanning the room.

Then he looks back down at his phone, and I watch as a smile spreads across his face.

He’s mine. He’s really, truly mine. It’s then I realize that I don’t have to stay here in the shadows. I don’t have to catalog his movements from a distance like some obsessive inventory. He knows I’m here. He wants me to find him.

I pocket my phone and saunter over to his table, sliding into the chair next to him.

“There you are,” I say, like I’ve been searching for him this whole time.

He looks at me, and the smile is still there.

“Hey.”

“What are you studying?” I ask, glancing at the textbook in front of him.

“Biology,” he says. “I have a test next week.”

“Fun.”

He laughs. “Not really.”

I reach under the table and place my hand on his thigh.

He jumps, his eyes going big, and he looks around nervously to see if anyone noticed.

No one did. No one’s even looking at us.

“Relax,” I murmur, leaning in slightly. “No one cares.”

He swallows hard, his eyes flicking back to me.

“You smell good,” I say.