Chapter 10
Ash
I'm only here because Robin threatened to tell everyone about the time I cried watching Bambi.
"Jason always goes to the library on Thursday mornings," he'd said, grinning like the manipulative little shit he is. "He looks at cookbooks before the lunch rush. You should accidentally be there too. Run into him. Be charming."
"I don't know how to be charming."
"Then be yourself and hope he finds awkward military guys endearing." Robin had shrugged. "Worst case, you see him for five minutes and then leave. Best case, you get to have an actual conversation without a pack of lions watching your every move."
So here I am, walking into the public library at 10:30 on a Thursday morning, feeling completely out of place.
The library is bright and quiet, all high ceilings and natural light and that particular hushed atmosphere that libraries cultivate.
Full of moms with strollers browsing the picture books, retirees reading newspapers in comfortable chairs, a few college-age kids with laptops at the study tables.
I'm wearing jeans and a henley like Robin suggested, trying to look like someone who belongs here. But I still feel like I'm infiltrating enemy territory. Too big, too rough, too much tactical awareness for a place where the biggest threat is a late fee.
I spot the cookbook section—Robin gave me detailed directions, including which aisle and approximately where Jason usually stands—and head that way, trying to look casual.
Then I see him.
Jason's in the stacks, flipping through something thick and glossy with pictures of food on the cover.
His face is lit up the way it gets when he's excited about something, animated and bright, completely absorbed in whatever he's reading.
He's wearing a soft gray t-shirt that makes his eyes look golden, and his hair is slightly messy like he didn't bother styling it this morning.
He's beautiful. Standing there in a beam of sunlight from the window, surrounded by books about food.
But he's not alone.
Some guy is standing way too close to him.
Young, maybe mid-twenties, pretty in that soft academic way with carefully styled hair and a jawline that probably photographs well.
Wearing thick-framed glasses and a cardigan over a button-down shirt.
A library employee, based on the lanyard around his neck.
He's leaning into Jason's space, laughing at something Jason said. Too close. Way too close.
And then he touches Jason's arm.
His hand. On Jason. On MY Jason.
A surge of possessiveness hits me so hard it almost knocks me back. Mine. That's mine and he's touching him.
"—really changed how I think about fermentation," Jason's saying, oblivious to the way this asshole is looking at him.
Oblivious to the hunger in those eyes, the calculated charm in that laugh.
"The whole section on sourdough starters was incredible.
I've been trying to maintain one for months but it keeps dying.
I think I'm not feeding it often enough, or maybe the temperature in my kitchen fluctuates too much—"
"You should check out this one too." The librarian reaches across Jason to pull a book from the shelf, deliberately brushing against him as he does.
Leaning in so close their shoulders almost touch.
"It has an amazing chapter on wild yeasts.
Really gets into the science of it. You seem like the kind of person who appreciates the science. "
He's flirting. This asshole is flirting with Jason, using bread books as his angle, and Jason doesn't even notice because he's too busy being excited about sourdough.
"Oh, thanks!" Jason takes the book, beaming at the guy with genuine gratitude. "I've been wanting to try wild fermentation. There's this bakery in Portland that does a forty-eight hour sourdough and I've been trying to figure out how they get that depth of flavor—"
I'm moving before I consciously decide to.
Across the library. Through the stacks. My footsteps are silent—years of training—but my intention isn't. I'm a missile locked on target, and the target is getting my hands on what's mine.
I slide my arm around Jason's waist and pull him against my side, fitting him against my body like he belongs there.
Jason jumps, the books in his hands nearly falling. "Ash! What are you—"
I kiss him.
Not gentle. Not careful. Not the tentative. This one is possessive, claiming, my hand on the back of his neck holding him in place while I make it very clear to everyone watching that this man is taken.
His mouth opens under mine in surprise and I take advantage, deepening the kiss for just a moment before pulling back. Leaving him breathless. Leaving no doubt.
When I pull back, Jason's eyes are huge. His lips are wet, slightly swollen. His cheeks are flushed.
"Hi," I say. Then I look at the librarian, who's gone pale. All that carefully cultivated charm has drained right out of his face. "Don't think we've met. I'm Ash. Jason's boyfriend."
Boyfriend.
The word comes out without thought, without planning. It just... is. True in a way I didn't know I was ready to admit. True in a way that feels like stepping off a cliff and finding solid ground.
"Oh!" The librarian takes a step back, then another. "I didn't—sorry, I didn't know he was—" He's already retreating, hands up like I'm pointing a weapon at him. Which I'm not. But apparently I look like I might. "I'll just—those books are due back in three weeks! Nice to meet you!"
He practically runs toward the circulation desk.
I watch him go with satisfaction, then turn back to Jason, who's staring at me.
"What," he says slowly, "was that?"
Shit. "I—"
"Are you claiming me?"
Shit. Fuck. "Maybe?"
"Maybe?" He pulls out of my hold, stepping back to look at me properly. There's fire in his eyes now, his whole posture shifted from surprised to confrontational. "There's no maybe here, Ash. You can't get pissy because someone was nice to me but also not want to date me. Pick a lane."
He's right. He's absolutely right.
Pick a lane.
I look at him—standing there in the cookbook section, clutching books about fermentation and wild yeasts, indignant and beautiful and completely right to be pissed at me—and I realize I already have.
I picked it the moment I saw someone else's hand on him and wanted to break every finger.
"Fine," I say. "We're dating."
Jason blinks. "What?"
"We're dating. Exclusively. No one else gets to touch you."
"Are you—" He shakes his head like he's trying to clear it. "Are you serious right now?"
"Dead serious." I step closer, crowding into his space the way the librarian was, except I have the right to be here.
I've earned the right. "You're mine. I don't know how to do relationships.
I don't know how to be someone's boyfriend.
But I'll figure it out, because the thought of that guy putting his hands on you makes me want to commit actual violence. "
Jason stares at me for a long moment. His expression shifts—surprise, then hope, then his whole face lights up like I just gave him everything he wanted.
"We're dating," he repeats.
"Yes."
"Exclusively."
"Yes."
"You just called yourself my boyfriend."
"Apparently I did."
"In front of witnesses."
I look around. We've attracted an audience, because of course we have.
A couple of moms pretending to browse nearby shelves while clearly watching us.
The librarian peeking out from behind the circulation desk.
An older woman in the mystery section who's given up all pretense and is openly staring with a delighted expression.
"In front of witnesses," I confirm.
Robin appears from behind the next stack over—definitely lurking the whole time, the scheming little shit—dragging Toby behind him. "Story hour's starting! Also, did you just claim Jason in front of the entire library?"
"Yes," I say simply.
"FINALLY!" Robin throws his hands up like he's been personally burdened by my emotional constipation. "Toby, you owe me twenty bucks."
"You bet on us?" Jason asks.
"Everyone bet on you," Toby says, looking amused. "Knox had this week in the pool."
"There's a pool?"
"There's always a pool when someone in the pack is being an idiot about their feelings." Robin grabs Jason's arm and starts tugging him toward the children's section. "Now come on, Miss Glitterbomb waits for no one."
"Miss Glitterbomb?" I ask, following because apparently I'm following Jason everywhere now.
We end up in the children's area, a colorful space with tiny chairs and beanbags and a reading corner with cushions piled on the floor.
The walls are painted with murals of friendly animals and the ceiling has paper clouds hanging from it.
Kids are already gathering, bouncing with excitement, parents settling around the edges with varying degrees of enthusiasm.
I feel absurdly out of place—too big, too rough, too much. Like a wolf who wandered into a sheep pen and is trying to pretend he belongs.
But Jason pulls me down onto a floor cushion beside him, tucking himself against my side like it's the most natural thing in the world.
"This okay?" he asks quietly.
Instead of answering, I shift so I'm sitting with my knees up, creating a space. Then I pull him back against my chest, wrapping my arms around him from behind.
"Oh," he breathes.
"This okay?" I echo back.
"Yeah. This is—yeah."
His back is warm against my chest. I can feel his heartbeat through his thin t-shirt, slightly fast but steadying as he relaxes into my hold. He fits against me like a puzzle piece clicking into place.
Miss Glitterbomb makes a dramatic entrance in a sparkly purple dress, a wig of silver curls that defies physics, and enough makeup to qualify as theatrical.
The kids cheer. She launches into a story about dragons and brave knights and unlikely friendships, doing different voices for each character, making the children gasp and laugh at all the right moments.
I don't really follow the plot because I'm too focused on Jason's weight against me, the way he relaxes deeper into my hold with each passing minute, the way he occasionally turns his head to smile at me. His hand finds mine where it rests on his stomach and interlaces our fingers.
This is what Robin meant. This is what "spending time together without your dick in him" looks like. Just... being. Together. In public. Like a normal couple.
When story hour ends and kids scatter for snacks—Robin made dragon-shaped cookies with rainbow icing scales that the children descend upon like locusts—Jason twists in my arms to look at me.
"Lunch?"
"Yeah. There's a Thai place near my house. Good curry. Really good pad thai."
His face lights up. "I love Thai food."
"I know. Robin told me."
"You asked Robin what kind of food I like?"
"I'm trying to do this right." I help him up, keep my hand on his lower back because I can, because he's mine now and I'm allowed to touch him whenever I want. "That means learning what you like. Taking you places you'll enjoy. Not just winging it and hoping for the best."
"Ash..." He shakes his head, but he's smiling so wide it looks like it might hurt. "You're kind of incredible, you know that?"
"I'm really not."
"You really are." He rises on his toes and kisses me, soft and quick, in front of all these moms and kids and Miss Glitterbomb. "Come on. Thai food. You can tell me about the time you cried watching Bambi."
"Robin is a dead man."
"He's my favorite person right now."
"He's still a dead man."
Jason laughs and takes my hand as we walk out of the library.
My boyfriend.
I have a boyfriend who looks at me like I'm worth keeping. Who fits against my chest during story hour and laughs at my terrible jokes and makes me want to be better than I am.
I'm probably going to fuck this up a hundred different ways before I get it right. But I'm going to keep trying.
For him, I'll keep trying.