32. Nicole
Chapter thirty-two
Nicole
I peer up at Adam standing over me next to the couch.
“Come on, Nicole,” he repeats, holding out his hand, a determined glint in his eyes.
Dropping my tablet, I take his hand, and he hauls me to my feet.
“What are we doing?” I ask as he pulls me toward the front door.
“You’ll see,” he says.
Is Adam being … spontaneous? My stomach flutters, and I turn myself over to him, ready to follow wherever he’s leading.
We slip on our shoes, pausing at the threshold long enough for me to lock the door. It’s late, and the streets are mostly quiet as Adam practically bounds down the steps of my apartment, tugging me behind him. I’m wearing black joggers and an oversized T-shirt. Up to now, it has been a simple night at home. I hadn’t planned to go anywhere or see anyone other than Adam. The night air is warm and sticky against my arms, my heart racing as quickly as my feet. Adam turns a corner headed toward campus, and both my heart and my feet stutter to a near stop.
“Adam!” I eek out, half confusion, half glee, pulling back against his hand. He turns to me, a deadly smirk on his lips. His eyes glitter as he pulls me closer, ducking his head until his mouth is right up against my ear. “Come on,” he whispers thickly.
I’m grinning like an idiot, side by side with Adam now as we rush through the streets. When we reach the front steps of Parker Library, Adam drops my hand. Out of the corner of his mouth and without making eye contact, he instructs, “Be cool.”
I immediately start cracking up. Already out of breath from our race over here, I bend over and put my hands on my knees as I try to collect myself enough to go inside. Adam takes a couple steps away, eyeing me warily.
I take a deep breath and stand. “I’m cool, I’m cool,” I say, which unleashes another bout of laughter, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes. Finally, I steady my breathing, wipe my eyes, and school my expression into a mask of seriousness.
“I’m sorry,” I say solemnly. “I’m ready now.”
“You better be,” Adam grumbles as he takes his Parker Library badge out of his pocket and taps it against the scanner by the front entrance. The leftmost door makes a thunking sound as it unlocks. Adam pulls it open, motioning me to step inside ahead of him.
We walk quietly and calmly through the main lobby. Two bored-looking student workers sit at the circulation desk, hardly glancing at us as we pass. At the top of the stairs, Adam gently takes my hand again. The second floor is nearly deserted. I see a few students at the study carrels around the perimeter, but it’s eerily quiet. We pass through the stacks and finally duck into a row buffeted on either side by empty carrels. I glance around at the books on the shelves. The PN 1000s. Poetry. Seems fitting.
Adam hesitates. Now that he’s gotten me here, he looks unsure of what to do with me. Facing him, our bodies parallel with the shelves, I place one of my hands onto his shoulder and the other on his chest. My eyes locked with his, I inch forward. He steps back. I step forward again, and he steps back. Slowly, we continue this dance across the narrow aisle, until Adam’s broad shoulders bump against the shelves, making a distinct but hollow clunk sound. The books on the top shelf wobble a bit. Strung out on the high of this night, these zany circumstances, I nearly start laughing again, until I’m quickly sobered by the heated look in Adam’s eyes. He reaches his arms around my waist and pulls my body flush against his. As he lifts one of his hands up to tangle in my hair, his mouth covers mine.
I shift my arms, moving my hands behind Adam’s neck. He tips his head to one side, breaking away from my lips to trail hot kisses up my jawline to the tender skin below my ear. I shiver as his mouth catches on my earlobe. I swallow a moan, but he feels the vibration in my throat, and his lips are back on mine, needy and intense. I part my lips and his tongue sweeps through my mouth. Reaching my hand higher to bury my fingers in the hair above his collar, I gently scratch my nails against his scalp. He growls, and moving both hands to grip the backs of my thighs, lifts me up and wraps my legs around his torso. He moves forward until my back is against the shelves on the other side of the aisle. The scent of old paper and dust spreads around me, mixing with the smell of sweat on our skin. When he finally slides me back down to the ground, we’re both breathless. Adam quietly kisses my forehead, and then the top of my head, running his hands up and down my arms.
“Let’s go,” he murmurs next to my ear. He nudges me forward, giving me a warning look and touching his index finger to my lips. As we get to the end of the aisle, he drops his hands to his side, and we walk back down the stairs and through the lobby without touching.
Once we’re outside, he bumps me with his shoulder. “Well?” he asks with a smirk.
“Well, what?”
“How was it?” He motions toward the library building.
Grinning, I place my hand on his cheek and say, “Easily in the top five hottest moments of my life.”
His mouth drops open. “In the top five?” he sputters.
I laugh and dart away from him down the steps. I feel him on my heels as I turn the corner. He grabs me around the waist and spins me to face him. I push against his chest playfully. Laughing, I say, “Okay! Okay! Number one top spot to you, sir.”
He smiles and pulls me against his chest. “Hottest moment of your life?” he murmurs into my hair.
I pull back and meet his eyes. “Without question,” I answer.
He grins and kisses my forehead softly. “ Me, too.”
The next week, finals are officially over and we’re all transitioning into our summer projects. I’m in my office, checking each of my online subject guides and making a list of which need to be updated before the fall term.
Herb pops his head through the doorway. “Nicole, can you come meet with me for a moment, please?”
Nervously, I follow him down the hall. When we enter his office, I see Adam already sitting at the small table there.
“If this is about Thursday…” I trail off when Adam subtly shakes his head at me, a glint of panic in his eyes.
“What happened Thursday?” Herb asks.
“Never mind,” I answer and take the chair across from Adam as Herb sits between us.
“What’s going on, Herb?” Adam asks.
“I just heard from one of our friends on the board of trustees,” he says. “It seems that high-ranking members of the Harkness leadership, namely Dr. Clifton and his cronies, have been making a fuss about the graphic novel collection.” Dr. Clifton is the college provost.
I’m immediately on alert. I sit up straighter. “What kind of fuss?”
Herb clears his throat. “The kind where Dr. Clifton doesn’t think the content of the graphic novels is appropriate for the library.”
“What content?” I demand.
“To be honest, Nicole, I don’t think that Dr. Clifton has any idea what graphic novels we even have in our collection, let alone their content. I think he has a problem with us having graphic novels at all. ”
“But that’s not fair!” I object. “The graphic novels we bought are wholly appropriate for the degree programs at Harkness. Faculty members are already using them in their classes to teach students.”
Herb holds up his hand, as if to ward off my protests. “Right now, they just want more information. A list of the titles, their synopses, that kind of thing.”
Adam glances at me quickly, then says, “I have a spreadsheet of all the titles that lists how much they cost, which academic department they match up with, and their Library of Congress subject headings.”
“That’s perfect,” says Herb.
“Herb,” I warn, “if they start digging into these titles, they are going to find themes they don’t like. But they’re the same themes that students in English classes read in their assigned works of literature, and that students in art history study in great paintings, and students in history classes learn about throughout all human history. It’s nothing they won’t find in the rest of our library’s collection.”
Herb sighs. “I know,” he says. “Right now, they’re only asking for more information. We’ll see what happens next.”
My brain starts whirling with the possibilities of all the things that might “happen next.” I’m not afraid of a little controversy, and I am prepared to stand up for this project. I believe in it. But Adam. He was dragged into the project. He didn’t choose this. I don’t want to put him in the position of fighting this battle, too. He may not even want to.
“Herb,” I say resolutely, “the graphic novel collection is my project. I introduced it. I pushed for it. So, I’m the one who should be held accountable for it to the leadership. I understand that because you approved it as the director of the library, you’re implicated here as well, but Adam doesn’t need to be involved — ”
“No,” Adam interjects, but I talk over him.
“The graphic novel collection is not his responsibility. Can we leave him out of it?” I finish.
I hazard a quick glance at Adam, and his jaw is tight.
“I don’t want to be left out,” Adam bites out. “This is my project, too. And I stand behind the work I did on it.”
Herb’s eyes bob between me and Adam as he considers our words. “I agree with Adam,” he finally says. “You will both do any work the leadership needs done for them to feel comfortable with the graphic novel collection being part of our library.” He shifts to look at me directly. “It’s a good project, and it was done well. Neither of you should doubt that.”
As we step into the hallway, I start, “Adam — ”
He cuts me off quickly. “Let’s talk in your office.”
I nod, and we walk down the hall.
When we’re settled with the door closed, I jump in before Adam can say anything. “I know you’re upset,” I begin, “but I was just thinking of you. You’re Mr. Rules, and this could lead to a confrontation with the leadership of the college, literally a nightmare scenario for you. You don’t want to do that.”
When he speaks, Adam’s voice is controlled, his words clipped. “I do like the structure of rules, but we didn’t break any in doing this project. I worked hard to make sure the title choices were academically vetted and supported. I have confidence in my work, and I am a man who takes responsibility for my actions, even when it’s uncomfortable.”
A rock lodges in the pit of my stomach. Words and intentions and feelings have gotten mixed up somehow and they’re all swirling into a tornado. And I think it’s my fault. I look at Adam again, and it’s no longer anger I see in his eyes, but hurt.
“I would have thought,” Adam continues, his voice shifting now, cracking, “that you would know me well enough by now to know that I would never let someone else take the fall for me. Especially you. Is that really what you think of me? That I’m, what, too weak, to stand up for what’s right?”
“No, of course not,” I say softly. I try to take his hand, but he pulls away. I feel panic inching up my throat as my heart hammers in my chest. I have the sudden sense that I’m losing everything and that nothing I can do will stop it.
A thought comes from the back of my mind, like a pinprick of light in the fog. Breathe , it says. Breathe . I close my eyes and inhale deeply, holding it for seven seconds before exhaling gently through my mouth. Once I do, the panic slowly recedes, and I’m left feeling solid and strong.
I take Adam’s hand again, softly rubbing my thumb against his palm. This time, he lets me.
“I would never ask you to fight my battles for me,” I tell him.
His expression changes again, to remorse as the brown of his eyes sharpens into amber.
“And I would never let you fight alone,” he rejoins, his voice gruff .
“I know.” I look him straight in the eye so he can see my sincerity and my trust in him. “I’m sorry.”
He sighs. “I’m sorry, too. I overreacted.”
I smile slowly and squeeze his hand. “Was that our first fight?”
“Yeah, I think it was,” he answers, but he sounds tired.
Fluttering my eye lashes, I grin and tease, “Too bad we can’t make up, since we’re at work and all.”
He finally smiles, and my relief at seeing him back at ease with me is palpable. He squeezes my hand. “Later,” he promises.