Chapter Two Vivian
CHAPTER TWO: VIVIAN
A lthough most of the university library staff loathed working the evening shift, it was my favorite. It was glorious getting to spend the first half of the day writing or knitting to Netflix while being a hermit at my house before I had to go to work.In many ways, the library didn’t come alive until the afternoon. It truly was at its best when it was teeming with students as the sounds of click-clacking keyboards, pens scribbling on paper, and hushed conversations filled the air.
Tonight I was stationed at the reference desk. Since we were short one student worker, I was forced to shovel in my heated leftovers while sitting in my chair. There would be no rest for the weary since Thursdays were usually busy days for us since many of the professors gave Friday deadlines.
I’d just taken a huge bite of lasagna when a lanky guy with glasses came sprinting over to me. “Um, excuse me, Miss…?”
“Whitlock,” I muttered through the cheese and noodles. From his creased brows, I realized with my mouth full, I probably sounded a lot like Charlie Brown’s teacher. I held up my finger as I swallowed. “Sorry about that. It’s Ms. Whitlock or Vivian.”
The young man smiled. “I’m Amir.”
“Nice to meet you.”
“Look, I hate to bother you, Ms. Whitlock, but like, I’m totally lost. Could you maybe help me figure out what the hell this poem is saying?” At his curse, he gave me a sheepish grin. “Sorry about that.”
Nodding, I dug a mint out of my drawer before rising out of my chair. Call me OCD, but I never wanted to make students refuse help because I’d assaulted them with heinous breath.
As I came out from behind the desk, I asked, “What is it you’re reading?”
“It’s this poem for my English 101 class. It’s called The Wanderer .”
I stifled a groan. The chair of the English Department loved to torture the first-year students by having the other professors make them read a poem written in Old English. Even for someone like me who adored old texts, it was like asking them to read and interpret a text that read like a foreign language.
“There’s a book in the reference section that will help you break it down line by line.”
“Can’t I just use Google?”
With a smile, I replied, “Assuming this is for Dr. Barlowe’s class, he’ll want your evidence from scholarly sources.”
He grimaced. “Oh yeah, I do need those.”
I motioned to one of the tables. “Have a seat, and I’ll go grab the book.”
As I walked deeper into the stacks, I could’ve sworn I felt eyes on me. Glancing over my shoulder, I found no one in the aisle with me. Craning my neck, I eyed the row to my left before turning to my right. A tall figure stood with his head buried in a book, but he wasn’t looking my way. Since it was October, I guess I was getting a head start on spooking myself. Usually, I reserved that for the library basement.
Once I located the book, my heels clicked back down the tiles to the waiting student. While he sat at the table, I put the book down in front of him. After flipping to the middle section, I tapped on the article. “First, you can read the line in Old English and then the modern translation. Then you–”
At a loud bang and a bellowed, “ Fuck !”, Amir and I jerked our attention from the text over to the stacks. A guy gave us a sheepish look. “Sorry,” he muttered as he rubbed his head before disappearing behind the shelves.
“As I was saying, then you’ll find scholarly articles. There’s one on the theme of loneliness.” I flipped a couple of pages. “Here’s one on the theme of religion, and then if I remember correctly, there’s one on suffering.”
Amir smiled. “This isn’t your first time at the rodeo with this one, huh?”
I laughed. “Nope. You’re not the only one to be stumped by this poem.”
“Thanks for the help.”
“No problem. I’m going to make a sweep to see if anyone else needs me, and then I’ll come back to check on you.”
“Great.”
As I left Amir for the next table, I saw two discarded books. “Can I put these up for you?” I asked three girls buried under numerous multi-colored graph printouts.
“Yeah, thanks.”
After taking the books in my hands, I started eyeing the Dewey Decimal numbers on the spine. When I whirled around the corner of the stacks, I smacked into a wall of hard, male flesh. The books in my arms tumbled at his feet. “Oh, I’m so sorry,” I murmured.
The guy was so ridiculously tall that I had to pull my neck back to gaze into his ridiculously handsome face. Get a grip, Viv. He’s a student, not a piece of meat to be ogled.
His sandy blonde hair was buzzed short on the sides but fell longer across his forehead. Even if he hadn’t been wearing one of Southeastern’s bulky warmup jackets, I would’ve known he was a hockey player. He had the build.
He grinned down at me. “It’s okay.”
“No, it isn’t. I was paying too much attention to the decimal numbers and not where I was going.”
After reluctantly tearing my gaze from his, I eyed the books at his feet. “Here let me,” he offered.
“No, no, I’ve got it,” I replied.
At that moment, we both bent over, banging our heads together. I groaned more in mortification than pain. As I pulled back and rubbed my head, I said, “Once again, I’m so sorry!”
Squatting down, he peered up at me with a teasing smirk. “Don’t worry about it. I’m used to taking hard hits.” After sweeping the books into his hands, he rose back up. With a wink, he added, “Of course, usually I’ve got my gear on to protect me.”
“Wait a minute. I think I know you. You’re Grant Collins.”
“Grayson, actually.”
I winced. “Sorry. I knew it started with a G.”
“It’s all good.” When he grinned, two adorable dimples popped out on his cheeks. “Are you a Southeastern hockey fan?”
I laughed. “Sadly no. It’s my dad who is the fan, and he’s dragged me along to some of the home games.”
After placing his hand on the top of the bookshelf, he leaned in closer to me. “I must’ve made an impression if you remember me.”
“Let’s just say you made an impression on my dad. He was a Southeastern defenseman back in the day.”
Grayson’s brows popped in surprise. “No shit. That’s cool. Did he pursue hockey after he graduated?”
“No, he hung up his skates,” I mused.
“Why?”
I shrugged. “He met my mom and wanted to settle down. His heart belonged to her and structural engineering.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” he replied diplomatically.
“True.” I eyed him curiously. “So, Grayson, was there something you needed from me?”
A strangled noise came from deep in his chest before he succumbed to a coughing fit. “Are you okay?”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Fine,” he croaked.
Once he seemed to have cleared his throat, I asked, “Did you need me?”
For a moment, something flashed in his eyes that I would’ve almost taken for desire. But it was gone just as quickly as it appeared. In its place was a desperate look. After licking his lips, he shuffled anxiously on his feet. “Actually, I’ve got this macroeconomics paper I’m struggling with.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Hmm, as much as I’d love to help, macroeconomics isn’t really in my realm of understanding. But you’re in luck because one of my colleagues is ridiculously knowledgeable.”
He frowned. “Well, maybe you could just let me bounce some ideas off of you. Tell me if they make any sense for the direction of my paper.”
With a laugh, I replied, “Trust me. You might as well be speaking Latin, which isn’t the best analogy since I actually can read Latin.”
“But I want you ,” he blurted forcefully. Okay, that wasn’t the response I was expecting. At my furrowed brows, he shook his head. “I mean, I want you to help me because I feel comfortable with you.”
“I’m sure you’ll feel just as comfortable with Jan.” As I saw her wheeling around a cart of books to be restocked, I motioned to her. When he followed my gaze, his eyes bulged almost in horror. I’m not sure why he would possibly be threatened by her. Jan had been at Southeastern since the late 90’s. Everyone considered her the library’s unofficial grandmother.
“She’ll be more than capable of taking care of your needs,” I assured him.
Grayson paled slightly. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s happening.”
“I’m sorry, but I–”
After gently taking my hand in his, Grayson pulled me down the aisle away from Jan and the others. I tried ignoring the zing that radiated up my arm at the feel of his skin on mine. “What are you doing?” I demanded.
“I lied.”
“Excuse me?”
“I don’t need help with a macroeconomics paper. Surprisingly, I’m not a dumb jock, and I have an A in the class.”
I furrowed my brows at him. “Then why did you ask me for help?”
“Because I wanted to talk to you longer.”
“Why?”
“Do I have to have a reason?”
“Considering we’re standing in the middle of a university library, I would assume so.”
Grayson sucked in a ragged breath. “Okay, you got me. I do have a reason for wanting to talk to you.”
“And?” I prompted.
“I wanted to ask if you’d go out for dinner or drinks with me.”
A high-pitched nervous laugh trilled from my lips. “You’re joking.”
“No. I’m not.”
I glanced left and right to see if I saw some of his team standing by. Like it was some part of a prank to ask out the librarian. But I didn’t see anyone.
Oh my God. How was this real? I’d spent months on dating sites where no one swiped up for me unless they had a fetish that involved me doing inappropriate things to books. But completely out of the blue, there was an impossibly good-looking, ridiculously sexy young man asking me for a date.
By the look smoldering in his eyes, he was dead serious. I was completely floored. Outside of my online dating attempts, it had been weeks, possibly even months, since I’d been asked out on a date, least of all gone out with a guy. “ You want to go out on a date with me ,” I repeated.
A sexy smirk curved on his full perfect lips. “I sure as hell do.”
I blinked at him. “I can’t believe this.”
Grayson tilted his head at me. “Why is that so shocking? I’m sure you get hit on all the time.”
My face warmed at his compliment. In a way, Grayson was right. Students of both sexes harmlessly flirted with me. To them, it wasn’t necessarily about looks but more about the allure of the taboo and forbidden of dating someone who held authority over them. Of course, I didn’t imagine a librarian holding the same allure as banging a professor. The power balance between a professor and a student was completely different than between a student and a librarian.
In the last three years of working at the university, there had only been a handful who’d actually asked me out, and they were usually freshman babies who just missed their moms. They certainly weren’t hockey gods who probably waded through mounds of panties thrown at them by the adoring female population.
“Um, well, yeah, I get hit on, but I certainly don’t encourage the attention.”
“That just makes you even sexier.”
My eyes bulged at his remark. After glancing left and right, I hissed, “Shh, someone will hear you.”
“Is that a problem?”
“You telling me I’m sexy could be a problem.”
“I’m pretty sure there’s nothing in Southeastern’s code of conduct about a student having a potential working dinner with a staff librarian.”
“Now you’re asking me on a working date?”
He grinned. “I’m just trying to find a way to make you comfortable with the situation. Macroeconomics is off the table, but I’m sure we could find something academic to discuss.”
“You’re not giving up on this are you?”
He slowly shook his head back and forth. “I just realized that although you know my name, I don’t know yours.”
I licked my lips that had run dry before lamely flashing my Southeastern badge at him. “It’s Vivian.”
“Like in Pretty Woman ,” he replied.
“Did you just liken me to a prostitute?” I asked before I could stop myself.
His blue eyes popped wide. “No, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re like the farthest thing from a hooker ever.”
I laughed. “You’re not the first person to say that about my name.” Tilting my head at him, I asked, “Do you often watch old rom-coms?”
“My mom loves the movie.”
His mom. That was the jolt I needed to remind me I wasn’t standing around flirting with a man my age. Grayson was considerably younger than me. I slowly shook my head back and forth. “You’re a student.”
“Yes, I’m aware of that.”
“That means you’re younger than me.”
“Is that a problem?”
I nibbled my lip. “Age is usually a factor when it comes to dating.”
Wagging his brows, he teasingly said, “I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours.”
“I’m twenty-nine.”
“Just a measly six years between us since I’m twenty-three.”
“I’ll be thirty next week.”
“Really?” When I nodded, he added, “You should let me take you out for an early birthday dinner.”
“A ‘working, early birthday’ dinner?”
“Exactly.”
As I stared into Grayson’s earnest face, the vision board in my office flashed before my mind. I thought of my word for the year. Going out on a date with a younger student was certainly living. The angel on my shoulder would argue that it was living far too dangerously than I was accustomed to. I needed to start living with baby steps, not base jumping off a cliff.
“I can’t.”
“Because I’m a student?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know you.”
Grayson gave me a teasing grin. “Now, Vivian, as someone older and wiser, you do know how dates work, don’t you?”
“I do.”
“Then you should know getting to know each other is part of a date.”
Considering he had me there, I crossed my arms over my chest in a huff. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Look, I get that you’re worried I might be some closeted serial killer.”
I gasped in horror. “That’s not what I meant at all.”
“Rest assured, I’m not some creep walking in here off the streets. As a member of the hockey team, I’m completely vetted. They even let me work with children.”
Although I tried fighting it, my lips quirked up in a smile. “That’s good to know.”
“Then you’ll go out with me?”
With the devil on my shoulder screaming at me to base jump, I sighed. “I’m very flattered by your offer, but I have to say no.”
After turning to walk away, Grayson said, “Come on, Viv, live a little.”
I froze so fast that my heels made a screeching sound on the tile. Slowly, I turned to face him again. “What did you say?”
“I said to live a little.”
There it was: my word for the year. If ever believed in signs, Grayson had just sent a blazing one to me with one simple phrase. With determination in my step, I walked back to him.
“All right. I’ll go out with you.”