Chapter Three
I t’s two hours into my workday at the library, and I’m placing returned books back on the shelves while briefing my co-worker and friend, Gabriel, on Adam. Gabe is the adult services librarian, but it’s a slow day, and no adults are currently seeking his services.
“And it was full of books!” I say, referring to Adam’s heavy messenger bag. “He even knew what an MLIS was without me having to tell him.”
Gabe scratches the brown skin along his jaw. “I’m confused. Is Adam here to reconnect with this grandma, or is this some freak reality dating show where seniors set up their grandchildren with their roommates?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say, hiding my burning face with a large-print version of Reminders of Him by Colleen Hoover.
Gabe lowers the book. “ He was so good with Rocket! His bag looked so light when it was draped casually on his shoulder but nearly pulled my arm out of the socket! ” His russet-brown eyes twinkle.
I lean against the bookshelf and cross my arms over my chest. “Was that supposed to be me?”
“It was. I’m just missing the moonbeams shooting out of my eyes.” He laughs.
“Stop.” The plea is halfhearted, since he has a point. It kind of sucks that the first guy I’ve been attracted to in a while is my roommate’s grandson and therefore off-limits.
Gabe gestures toward the circulation desk, where Lane is waving us over, and motions for me to follow.
I hesitate. The library cart is full, and when I’m finished returning books, I have a list of ones on hold to pull. Still, I follow Gabe, dragging the cart with me to appear productive in case Jenny, our branch manager, is walking the floor.
Lane, one of the circulation clerks, looks bored out of their mind behind the semicircular desk and brightens when they see us. “The place is dead today. Talk to me. Please.”
“Sabrina has the hots for her new roommate.” Gabe gives them the SparkNotes version of our prior conversation.
Lane’s hazel eyes light up, and they lean over the desk in interest. “Show me some pics.”
“I would, but his presence on IG is basically nonexistent,” I say.
Lane and Gabe exchange grins.
“Checking out his social media? You’re such a creeper, Finkelstein,” Gabe says.
I put my hands on my hips. “I wasn’t creeping. I was just curious what he looked like, so I checked his socials.”
“And what does he look like?” Gabe asks.
“He’s a cross between Dylan Sprayberry and Kevin Zegers.”
“You’re not helping your case,” Lane says, scratching their shaved head.
Gabe chuckles.
I scrub a hand over my face. “Please stop. It doesn’t matter how hot he is. Nothing’s going to happen between me and Adam. He’s here for Marcia, not me.”
“Marcia’s the roommate you met on that app, right?” Lane asks.
“That’s her,” I say, happy for the change of subject.
Gabe smirks. “With her strapping young grandson around to flip her mattress, show her Snapchat filters, and be her emergency contact, she might not need you anymore.”
“Wait. What?” Lane looks confused, but then understanding washes over their face. “ Riiiight . You’re supposed to help her out in exchange for cheaper rent.” They clench their teeth. “Gabe has a point.”
My stomach hardens. “Give it a rest. Adam is only here temporarily to mend his relationship with Marcia. It has nothing to do with my housing situation.” My phone flashes with a calendar reminder to start working on my application for a school scholarship that’s due next month, but I dismiss it.
It’s not like I can work on it from here anyway.
“It always starts out temporary. I know someone who moved back in with her parents ‘temporarily’ after college to save enough for three months’ rent. Six years later, she’s still there. And she’s a lawyer now!” Gabe raises an eyebrow.
The more-empathetic Lane smiles softly at me. “I’m sure Adam will be long gone before six years.”
“But just in case, my friend Brandon’s roommate just moved out if you’re interested. Real cheap. As long as you’re okay with the bathtub in the kitchen.”
I tuck my phone back in my pocket. “Thanks for this heartfelt pep talk, friends . I’ll be off now.”
“We’re just teasing.” Gabe’s eyes crinkle in the corners.
A patron approaches Gabe to ask for thriller recommendations featuring septuagenarian main characters at the same time Lane’s phone rings. After providing my own recommendation, I leave my colleagues to their work and drag my library cart back to the fiction section.
I aggressively push Love and Other Words by Christina Lauren between Josh and Hazel’s Guide to Not Dating and My Favorite Half-Night Stand , but Sita, the other page, packed the books so tightly, there isn’t enough room.
Cursing to myself, I remove half the books from this shelf and the one above it, rearranging everything and leaving some breathing room for future me.
I twirl a lock of hair around my finger.
As much as I hate to admit it, Gabe has a point.
Marcia might not need to rely on me as much while Adam is here.
But I know she wouldn’t kick me out because of it.
Our arrangement began because of what I could do for her in exchange for lower rent, but it’s evolved into a real friendship.
As if the universe knows I’m desperate for validation, my phone pings with a text from Marcia.
Marcia: Hi Sabrina. I hope you’re having a good day at work. I’m making dinner and thought it would be a nice time for the three of us to spend together. Are you free? Marcia.
I recall what Adam said about wanting to learn more about my library program and smile to myself.
I only talked to him for a few minutes, but I liked him.
Was there also a physical attraction? Yes, but it’s not my fault he had a major glow-up since his bar mitzvah.
It doesn’t mean I’m looking at this temporary living arrangement as some sort of dating setup.
Gabe . I roll my eyes. But I also don’t think Adam’s a threat to my relationship with Marcia.
Whatever connection we’ll form will fall somewhere in between those parameters, and I’m looking forward to it, which is exactly what I write when I text Marcia back about dinner.