Chapter Fourteen
I wasn’t serious about Adam applying for the library page job, but he was.
It turns out he did a teen internship at the Free Library of Philadelphia in high school, which included a crash course in the Dewey Decimal System.
When Marcia reminisced about taking little-boy Adam to the library where he discovered and devoured Marc Brown’s Arthur series, my heart pinched thinking about Nana, and I said I would put in a good word for him once the promotion was official.
Two days later, I’m in the workroom at the library sorting through supplies for an upcoming program for teens when my phone pings with a text.
Adam: I’m at the library. Is this an okay time?
My pulse speeds up and my heart slams against my chest. I wish I had thought things through better before I joked about Adam applying for my job.
Now I’m afraid that regardless of the outcome, I’m fucked.
If he doesn’t get the job, I’ll feel horrible…
like my good word meant nothing to Jenny.
And if he does get the job… well, that’s even scarier, if I’m being honest. Seeing gorgeous Adam all day surrounded by books and all night cuddling with Rocket and bonding with his grandmother?
Seriously, how much can a horny, single girl take before her panties spontaneously drop to her ankles?
Ping.
Adam: I’m on the second floor—early readers
Determined to pull myself together, I leave the text on read and meet him one floor up.
I find him running his fingers along the spines of the Arthur books.
He’s wearing khaki stretch corduroy pants that fit his ass like they were tailored for him and a chambray button-down shirt rolled up to his forearms. He’s dressed more formally than most of the staff here.
We’re all super casual and comfortable because we spend a lot of time bending and kneeling to return and remove books from the shelves.
I assume he’s dressed to impress Jenny, but she won’t be the only one.
He wins best-looking patron of the day (so far, at least) and I’m tempted to covertly snap a photo for #hotguysreading on Insta.
My footsteps must alert him to my presence because he turns and smiles. “I’d forgotten about these until my grandma mentioned them.” He shows me the one he’s pulled off the shelf, Arthur Meets the President , before putting it back. “I hope this is a good time.”
“It’s exactly eleven thirty, so your timing is perfect,” I say while double checking to make sure he’s reshelved the book in the proper spot.
When I told Jenny my roommate’s grandson was interested in taking over the part-time page position, her head had flinched back comically and understandably, since most people my age don’t live with someone old enough to have a grandson, and if they did, hiring said child would probably break some labor laws.
But after I explained, she said to have him come by today between eleven and twelve.
“You nervous?” I shove my hands in the front pockets of my high-waisted blue jeans and rock on my toes. Perhaps he should be asking me this question.
Adam’s tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. “Not really. If I don’t get the job, it will give me more time to help Grams with all that tech stuff.”
“At this point, she could probably teach you a thing or two,” I joke, working hard to focus on my sarcastic delivery and not his tongue.
His eyes dance.
I shake my head. “Let’s go.”
Jenny’s on the floor talking to Penny, the youth services librarian, by checkout. “Stay back a second,” I tell Adam. I don’t want to put her on the spot in case she’s not ready. I apologize for interrupting them and ask if Jenny has time to see Adam now. When she says yes, I call him over.
“Jenny, this is Adam. Like I mentioned yesterday, he’s interested in the page position.” To Adam I say, “Jenny’s the branch manager and in charge of hiring.”
They shake hands and Jenny suggests we continue downstairs in her office, where she tells Adam to have a seat.
Adam points to the single chair. On it sits the same heavy box from two days ago. “Here?”
“Darn. That’s still there. I forgot.”
While Jenny scans the room like another open chair will miraculously appear, a nonplussed Adam uses both hands to grab the box from the bottom and with one movement, lifts the monstrosity off the chair. Then he holds it like it’s the weight of a thin picture book. “Where do you want it?”
Jenny blinks, seemingly too shocked to speak. “The… uh… over there is good,” she finally says.
Adam gently places the box on an empty spot on the cabinet Jenny pointed to.
“You’re hired,” she jokes. At least I think she’s joking.
I cover my own swooning with a laugh and while Adam sits, I lean against the closed office door for balance.
“Where in the South are you from?” he asks her.
“How’d you guess?” She chuckles. “Northwestern Kentucky.”
“Ever been to the Moonlite Bar-B-Q Inn?”
Jenny’s eyes go wide. “You’re familiar with Owensboro?”
Adam smiles. “College friend grew up there. We’ve lost touch, but I’d go back just for the barbecue mutton.”
I must make a face because Jenny howls. “It’s so much more delicious than it sounds!” She gestures toward Adam. “You don’t have to babysit him. Why don’t you give us a few minutes to chat, and I’ll send him back to you when we’re finished?”
“Oh. Of course!” The tone of her voice is so friendly, I can’t take offense to being kicked out. Besides, most people don’t take chaperones to interviews. I’m still in shock that this is really happening. “Come find me when you’re done, Adam.” My face burns. “If you want.”
I leave them to it and return to my sorting from before, but it’s hard to focus on anything but the conversation between Jenny and Adam happening in my absence.
Presumably, once they stop gushing over barbeque mutton…
gross… Jenny will ask the typical interview questions.
I imagine the interview will go something like this:
What inspired you to apply for this job?
Adam will want to keep it light and admit that it was my idea because he has too much idle time, but he’s too smart to take the risk of sounding apathetic. He’ll say something about his love of reading and how much time he spent with his grandmother at his local library as a child.
Why should I hire you?
I bet he’ll say he’s a hard worker who believes that libraries are more than big rooms with books. He might talk about wanting to pay it forward to the community. I said both of these things in my interview.
What are you reading now?
Last I saw, he was reading The Ferryman by Justin Cronin, but he might be finished by now.
An incoming text jolts me out of my imaginary interview.
Adam: I’m finished
The necklace cord I’m holding, part of our jewelry-making event, slides out of my clammy hands.
Sabrina: Where are you now?
Adam: Young adult
Sabrina: I’ll be right there
For the second time in an hour, I leave the box of supplies unattended and find Adam. This time, he’s thumbing through the pages of This Lullaby by Sarah Dessen. “This one’s on the bookshelf at home.”
This isn’t how I expected him to greet me minutes after concluding his job interview with my boss. It’s also strange to hear him call the apartment “home,” but not a bad weird, just weird. “She’s one of my favorite authors.”
He grins. “I got the job.”
“Way to bury the lede. Congratulations!” As the word comes out, I realize that, despite my anxiety over spending so much time with him, I truly mean it.
“Thank you! I can start training on Monday, but there’s paperwork to fill out. Jenny has a lunch call so I’m going to come back later. In the meantime, you get a lunch hour, right?”
I laugh. “You haven’t started yet, and you’re already concerned about your lunch breaks?”
“No. I’m asking if you want to grab lunch with me today. Like now.”
My breath catches. I figured he’d go home after the interview and I’d have time to ease my way into the reality of us living and working together. But now he’s asking me to lunch. Will this be a regular thing?
“I’ll come back with you after to complete the forms, but I have some questions about the job you can probably answer best.”
I feel a mixture of disappointment and relief that this is about the job and not because he wants to spend even more time with me.
“She also said you’d be the one training me during your regular shifts.”
This catches me off guard and my skin heats up under my T-shirt as my frisky imagination conjures up a scenario where I’m forced to discipline Adam for returning a book to the wrong shelf or some other egregious library act.
Then my stomach growls, reminding me to stay in the moment.
Adam’s asked me to go to lunch, not be the dominatrix to his subordinate.
He points in the vicinity of my belly. “Feed me,” he says in an otherworldly voice.
I press both hands over my stomach and feign confusion. “Huh? That wasn’t me.” Rumble. Rumble. I sigh. Why is my digestive system such a bitch?
Adam’s eyes twinkle. “Seriously. Let’s eat.”
We go to Citizens of Gramercy, an Australian café a few blocks away that serves “brekky” all day.
Although there’s plenty of seating, either at two communal tables by the entrance or one of the six smaller tables deeper inside the narrow space, I follow Adam to the counter, where we sit on two of the four open stools.
Aside from a patch of floral wallpaper, the walls are painted white.
On the far end of the café, the phrase, “Stay gorgeous, Gramercy” is lit up in hot-pink script.
I flip through the laminated menu. It’s a vegan/gluten-free/dairy-free paradise. “Too bad they don’t have mutton.”
“Don’t knock it until you try it.”
I drop the menu onto my lap. “No, thank you. I might not celebrate Christmas, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with eating Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
Adam freezes with a glass of water at his lips and squints at me.
“What?” Do I have ink on my face or something?