Manne doesn’t reply to my text until later the same afternoon.
Manne: Of course she did.
Manne: But I’m glad.
I smile as a third message pops up on my screen.
Manne: Sorry for taking so long to answer, but I just got off work. Is your day still great?
Adrian: It is. I was out walking for hours. I love winter. I could have stayed out all day, but real life happened so here I am. Folding laundry.
Manne: I hate when real life interferes.
Adrian: It’s terrible. But alas, nakedness is frowned upon at work so it had to be done or I would have frightened the little old ladies tomorrow.
Manne: I’m laughing.
Manne: And are you sure about that? Maybe the little old ladies would be delighted and throw themselves at you?
I chuckle as I tap out my reply.
Adrian: That would frighten ME, so no matter the scenario, someone would be scared.
Manne: Then maybe I should stay away from the library tomorrow since the books frighten me.
Adrian: Or I wear clothes to work and no one is frightened. You know I’ve got your back.
Manne: Too bad. I was looking forward to you naked at work. I bet that’s just the thing that would make me unafraid of books. Positive associations and all that.
My smile grows so wide, my face hurts. I abandon the rest of the laundry and wander to the bed and sit, leaning against the wall, propped up on my pillows.
Adrian: We can certainly explore that option, but I suggest we do it in a more private setting and not in a public library where anyone can come in at any time.
Manne: I don’t know any other suitable place. It needs to be full of books or the desensitizing won’t work. Because being naked in a bookstore is also frowned upon, I assume?
I burrow down in my pillows and wiggle my butt. The blatant flirting makes my belly tingle with anticipation. I haven’t experienced it for so long, and I’ve missed it more than I realized.
After re-reading his messages, I get out of bed and walk to the kitchenette, turning on the wide-angle option on my cell phone camera and snap a picture of my place.
As I had mentioned to him the day we’d met, I have books on every possible and impossible surface and need a bigger apartment. But I like it here, and I hate moving, so I just ignore that the walls are bowing outward and find new places to stack them. Linnea lectured me when she found a book in the fridge once, but that was an honest mistake. She didn’t believe me, and I can’t say I blame her. Soon, the only book-free space in my tiny studio will be the fridge.
I send him the picture as I drift back to the bed and retake my previous position.
Manne: Holy shit. You weren’t kidding when you said you have a lot of books.
Adrian: I wasn’t.
Manne: I bet you have more books than the library.
Adrian: LOL no. I wish. But they have a few thousand square feet of space on me.
Manne: You have enough to intimidate me. You’d definitely have to be naked when I come over.
When. Not if. The tingles in my abdomen spread to the rest of my body and I burrow deeper into my pillows. I’ve forgotten how much fun flirting is.
Manne’s next message makes me burst out laughing.
Manne: Or if you wanted to wear a bowtie and nothing else, I guess that’d be okay, too.
Adrian: Only a bowtie? Really? Is this some weird fetish you have?
Manne: It’s not my fault I find bowties sexy.
Adrian: Then whose fault is it?
Manne: Yours, duh. I never knew I found bowties sexy until a couple weeks ago.
Adrian: No one’s ever said that before. Dapper, yes. Distinguished, gentlemanly, elegant. Yes. Never sexy.
Manne: Now you know.
Adrian: So you think me wearing nothing but a bowtie would condition you out of being afraid of books?
I picture myself in my favorite bowtie and nothing else, opening the door to a fully dressed Manne. His big frame towering over my small apartment as he’s devouring my naked body with his intense gaze.
I jump when the phone rings, but hurry to accept the call as soon as I see Manne’s name on the screen.
“Hi,” I say.
“I got tired of hearing my phone’s robotic voice reading your messages. I need to hear you saying all those things.” His deep, gravelly voice settles low in my stomach and I lay my hand over my dick and bite my lip so I won’t moan.
“What things?” I manage.
“Anything related to the topic we’ve been talking about.”
“Oh. So you want me to tell you about how I just imagined opening the door for you, wearing nothing but my favorite bowtie?”
Manne groans. “Yes. That.”
I lower my voice. “It’s blue. I’ve been told that it brings out the blue in my eyes. Of course, that’s when I’m wearing clothes. No one would bother looking into my eyes if all I wear is the bowtie.”
“I would.”
I snort. “Nah. No gay guy would look into a naked guy’s eyes, and you know it.”
He laughs. “True. Busted.”
“Phew,” I say. “I’m happy we seem to have veered away from the road leading to phone sex. I’ve never understood it, to be honest.”
“No?”
“Nope. It makes me tongue-tied and I say stupid things.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Shit like ‘Oh, look at my penis, it’s very hard,’ and then it’s not hard anymore because I die of mortification.”
Manne guffaws and I imagine his broad shoulders shaking and his dimples popping. Ah, those dimples! They’re my favorite feature of his. No, wait. His thighs. Or maybe his arms.
“You’re ridiculous,” he says between bouts of laughter, interrupting my spiraling into daydreaming about his body. “I love it.”
“I’m glad.”
“Seriously, you didn’t say that, did you?”
“I’ve tried having phone sex only once when I was younger and I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was something equally ridiculous.”
“Aww, man. I wish I’d heard that.”
“I don’t. You wouldn’t have wanted to talk to me again if you had. It wasn’t sexy. My boyfriend at the time made me promise never to attempt phone sex again.”
That sets off his laughter again and it’s so contagious and sincere and I can’t help joining in.
“What about you?” I ask when the laughter dies down. “Do you have any experience with phone sex?”
“Sure. And facetime sex. But not lately.”
“No?”
He draws a deep breath. “No. Something…changed?…when I turned forty. I got tired of empty encounters that mean nothing. I got tired of a lot of shit. Like how shallow the world is. All everyone cares about is how attractive people are. No one cares about what’s inside anymore. I guess that’s part of why I let Charlie talk me into this whole ‘going back to school’ thing. Because I crave something…more.”
I hum.
“Is…that not what you want?” he asks.
“I haven’t been looking for something…but I’m not averse to the idea.”
“Are you sure?” When I don’t reply immediately, he hurries to continue. “It’s fine if you’re not. I just want to know where to set my expectations.”
“I’m sure. I like you. I did from the first time we spoke. Or you know, when you started breathing.”
He chuckles. “Hey. You can’t blame a guy for panicking when faced with his biggest fear.”
“I would never.” I’m going for faux-scandalized, and judging by Manne’s laughter, I’m successful.
“What’s your greatest fear, then?”
I don’t hesitate even for a second. “Losing my family.”
“I understand that. And I like a man who loves his family. How many sisters have you got?”
“Two. Emma and Linnea. They’re fabulous, but don’t tell them I told you so.”
“I don’t know. It might be useful for blackmail material one day.”
“You sound just like them,” I grumble.
Manne laughs again. Gawd, his laughter settles low in my hips and makes me tingle in the best possible way. “Listen, I gotta go. I’m helping a buddy of mine to move. I’m on box-carrying duty.”
I shudder at the thought of packing everything I own into boxes. “I hate moving,” I groan.
“Me, too. But he’s in the middle of a divorce and moving out of the house. He’s torn up about it, so I’ll probably do most of the carrying while he talks my ear off.”
The genuine concern for his friend shines through and warms my heart. Sexy, funny, a family man, and a good friend? He’s too good to be true, methinks. “You’re a good friend.”
“Nah, it’s nothing special. Besides, the next time I move, he’ll have to help me.”
“A hidden agenda! I approve.”
“If you’re so in favor of it, you should come help. That way, you’d have something on him, too.”
“That is a very nice offer. And you know, I’d be there in a heartbeat and carry those boxes, but you said he needs to talk, and I don’t want to interrupt that, so…” I snicker.
Manne guffaws. “Nice save, book boy.”
“I thought so. And book boy?” I raise an eyebrow even though he can’t see me.
“If the shoe fits.”
I harrumph.
“I really have to go. But I’ll swing by the library tomorrow, okay?”
I wiggle my butt and grin. “I don’t know if I’ll have time to talk to you. At least not if you call me ‘book boy.’”
“You like it.”
“Do not.”
“I bet I can make you like it.”
“I don’t think so.”
Manne laughs. “Not even if I say that I love your ass and your long, long legs as you strut around the library, book boy?” His voice is lowered and husky and rumbly and vibrates low in my belly, making me squirm on the bed.
“Yeah, all right, you can call me ‘book boy,’” I grumble, setting off his laughter again.
“See you tomorrow then?” he asks when he finally stops laughing.
“Yeah. You know where to find me.”
“Loved talking to you.”
“Me, too. I’m glad you called.”
We fall silent, but neither of us makes the move to hang up.
“You better not keep your friend waiting,” I say.
“No.”
And still, we don’t hang up.
“Adrian?”
“Yes?”
“I’m not imagining things, am I? We really do have this crazy chemistry?”
I burrow deep in my bed, his question making me giddy. “You’re not imagining things.”
“Good.”
“Very good.”
“I better go.”
“Yes.”
“Bye.”
“Bye.”
When the line goes silent, I toss my phone on the bed and lay my hand over my heart. He affects me everywhere. Body and soul. Everything about him calls out to me in a way I’ve never experienced before. It doesn’t just feel like crazy attraction, even if my dick has been half-hard in my pants the entire time we talked. It’s something…more. Deeper.
I can’t put my finger on it, but whatever it is has got me hooked. Wanting more.
I can’t wait to see him tomorrow.