My Heart Insists Chemical Reactions
that Combust are Fun
The term is still young enough that Hammill isn’t packed, and it’s late enough in my shift that students have social engagements to draw them out and beyond the doors of the library. The regulars—those who function better among books or use the stacks to insulate themselves from the struggle of the collegiate social life—are about; a few students interested in getting ahead of their syllabi, along with the staff are scattered in carrells or behind tables. The library, then, is sparsely populated as we near closing.
Mason is off tonight, so I’ve been left to my own devices and thoughts. I push a partially emptied cart of books that need reshelving into the elevator and select the button for the top floor. When the door opens, I move the cart out and down the walkway between carrells, stacks, and dark study rooms to the dead end of the building where the stacks end abruptly. I’m not usually creeped out on my late shifts, but the interactions I’ve had recently with Sebastian have me on edge. I wish Seth was going to meet me after work, but we’ve decided to meet up tomorrow.
Thinking about Seth makes me smile. I realize I must look like an idiot grinning to myself as I reshelve books, but I can’t remember feeling so happy. Not in recent memory anyway. Not before my dad—I clear my throat to chase the tightening that happens anytime I think of my dad being gone and shelve another book.
Movement catches my attention, and I look over the top of the books on the shelf in front of me through the rows to track it, watching a blue sweatshirt move through the stacks.
I return to reshelving.
Before Dad passed away, my life felt secure enough to challenge my place in it. It wasn’t like I wanted to upend everything, but I figured freshman year was the perfect time to examine those parts of myself I wasn’t sure fit. But if I hadn’t, I would have been there when he needed me; I would have been able to say goodbye. This is what I tell myself, anyway, even if Mom has given me an out.
I’ve realized being with Sebastian had been comfortable. Easy. He’d had that easy smile, and we seemed to connect on, well, everything. We slid right into dating, talking daily, until we were staying at one another’s houses. The ease of it still surprises me, but now, with distance, I’m noticing the red flags everyone else had tried to tell me were there. My acquiescence. His need for attention. My excuses for him. His demands for my time. In retrospect, the relationship had allowed me to remain in my bubble of grief. Sebastian hadn’t asked for anything more than my attention for him, which I gave willingly. It didn’t require me to look at my own grief, but to focus on taking care of him, feeling purposeful. I’d been able to hold onto him to avoid slipping into the black hole spinning beneath me.
Sebastian ending things had forced me back into the black hole, only it wasn’t a black hole anymore. It was a shallow divot where I could stand on my own two feet. I couldn’t avoid facing the truth of my grief anymore, but it wasn’t as intense. I could see beyond my pain, then climb out of it. Today, sitting across from Sebastian and the lack of feeling for him helped me see it.
Now, there’s a sparkling new star shining in my center every time I think about Seth. Happiness again. Happiness like I remember before.
I check the next book and walk the few feet necessary to shelve it, crouching down to return the book to its place. As I do, I notice the white canvas shoes on the other side of the shelf facing me. I stand, keeping the figure in my line of vision. Dark blue jeans, a book tucked under an arm. Royal blue sweatshirt with a white t-shirt underneath. A smile. Dimples. Amber eyes.
The muscle of my heart thickens and begins pulsing wildly to find its shape again. I smile. “Hi,” I tell the gorgeous man on the other side of the shelf.
“I didn’t know you wore glasses,” Seth says, grinning.
I blush and push my glasses up over my forehead, and they catch my hair under them. “Just to read. I was just thinking about you.”
“You were? I hope they were good thoughts.”
“Very good thoughts.” I smile but can’t look at him, returning my glasses to their place as I continue pushing the cart toward the end of the shelf, stopping to reshelve the remaining books as I go.
Seth moves at the same pace on the other side. I can see him between the books and love knowing he’s here.
“I like the sound of that,” he says, “because I was thinking about you, too.”
“You were?”
“Yes.”
We reach the end of the shelf and Seth faces me, leaning against the end of it, a book in one hand as the other finds a pocket. I study his hands a moment before my gaze meets his again. He’s noticed, and his grin widens.
“I hope they were good thoughts,” I tell him and move to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.
“I’ll tell you mine, if you tell me yours.”
“A lady never reveals her secrets.”
“Oh, but I think a lady should.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because her secrets are the only ones worth knowing.”
A little flustered by him, and my insane desire to reach out and touch him, I fiddle with the remaining books on the cart instead. “You’re here,” I say. “I thought–”
“I had some stuff to work on.” He waves the book he’s holding. “Besides, my roommate—well, not my roommate, but one of his friends—told me that the Ham is a hot spot for meeting hot girls. I thought maybe I should check it out.” He looks around.
I follow his gaze.
The third floor is mostly deserted.
“Oh. Really?” I cross my arms. “As you can see, a veritable nightclub.”
He smiles and reaches out to touch the book cart. “So they say, and since I know someone who works here, I thought I might get the inside scoop.”
“About what?”
He gently moves the cart, clearing the way to me, and steps closer. We might not be touching, but I can feel his heat. I can smell the clean scent of him, like salt water and soap. My heartbeat hitches and shifts, making room for my lungs, which are suddenly struggling to grab enough air to fill them.
Seth leans forward and whispers near my ear, “Like maybe the best places in the stacks to say, kiss someone?” The warmth of his cinnamon breath and the intermittent caress of his mouth on my cheek send chills across my skin. “That seems like good insider intel.”
I don’t move away, but instead turn my head, just enough so I can look into his eyes. I notice he has a dark copper ring around the outside of his iris. There’s a firework of dark brown in his right eye I’ve never noticed before. “I might know of some places,” I whisper, “but that kind of insider information will cost you.”
His eyebrows rise over his eyes, and I feel the smirk rather than see it. “Oh? Really?”
I nod. He’s so close I can’t seem to formulate coherent thoughts. I grasp onto his sweatshirt at his stomach, not that I need to—I want to.
“How much?”
“Too much.”
“I might be willing to pay a lot for that information.” He reaches out and touches my collarbone, moving my black cardigan slightly so that he can press his finger to my skin just above the collar of my black t-shirt. His remaining fingers curl around the back of my neck, his eyes following his touch.
“How much?” That spot he’s touching is on fire.
His eyes return to mine, serious, the pupils more prominent. “Right now? Maybe my soul.” Then his eyes curve with his smile.
I laugh, a low sound in my chest and gently push him, walking him back into the row where he came from. “I think I might be able to negotiate. I’ll be expecting a down payment.” I continue to walk him backward until his back is against the bookshelf.
His eyes widen, and his breathing is erratic, suddenly matching mine. He swallows. “Anything. I’ll pay anything.”
“You sure?”
“Oh, god, yes.” He licks his lips, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
I can’t play anymore, because I want this connection more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my life. I press my mouth to his. There’s the thud of a book hitting the floor, and I revel when his hands grasp my hips, tugging me against him. It’s needy. Our tongues dance the tango around one another, with suggestive promises as he tilts his head for better access, deeper connection, and submerges his hands in my hair.
My glasses get caught between us.
Then I remember I’m at work.
I step back, my back smacking into the shelf behind me, the books thumping at the force. “Oh.” I feel wild.
“Fuck,” he says at the same time. He looks as wild as I feel, his eyes so dark, his chest pulsing with each breath.
In all my years and all my kisses and all my experiences, I have never felt that. I want that again. And again. And again. I reach up and touch my mouth.
Seth looks shocked too, like we mixed a chemical concoction and it exploded. I can imagine the chemical reaction changing my appearance, as though I look askew. That’s how I feel, in the most addictive way.
Then, because reason and chemistry don’t seem to work in conjunction, I move at the same time Seth does, closing the distance, and we connect every way we can in the middle of the library stacks. With abrupt head angles, gripping and sliding hands, we find ways to kiss and touch that make me even more restless, not less.
“Fuck, Hannah,” Seth says against my mouth.
Somehow, my reason establishes a reconnection to my brain. I pull away, breathing like I just ran a marathon. “Five dates?” I ask, because I don’t want five more dates. I want it right now. I want to grab his hand, take him out to my car or into one of the dark study rooms, and go where we both want to go.
He swallows, nods slowly, and fists his hands at his sides as if to keep from touching me. “Five dates.”
I can see he’s wondering what he was even thinking. I sidestep away from him, my hands touching the shelf as I go to keep myself tethered to reality. “I better get back to work.” I shake my head and take another step away. “I have to finish reshelving, or I’ll never be done.”
He nods, similarly tongue-tied, or so it would seem. “I’ll meet you downstairs. Walk you to your car?”
I nod and duck around the shelf to hurry through the rest of my work, unsure I’ll even be able to focus. I wish Mason were at work to push the clock faster, but he isn’t, and the time moves at a snail’s pace.
When I slip through the doorway from the back, Seth’s waiting by the front door, leaning against the wall. He looks up at me from his phone and straightens. “Hi,” he says when I get close enough.
“Hi.” I feel the heat of my blush.
He grins, holding out a hand.
I take it, and he pulls me toward him, drawing both of us out the doors into the cold night.
“How was your day?”
“Better now,” I tell him, my eyes on my feet. “Yours?”
Our steps crunch over the frozen snow turned to slush.
“Let’s see. I woke up next to Hannah Fleming. Awesome. I freaked out a little bit when she met with her ex for coffee. Not awesome. I made out with a hot girl at the Ham. Awesome. Holding hands and walking her to her car. All in all, a solid day.” He squeezes my hand and turns to look at me with a grin that makes his eyes twinkle and my legs weak.
“Sor–”
“Don’t even do it, Hannah.”
I smile, shiver, and look away from his gorgeous face. “I didn’t want you to hear it from someone else.”
He nods. “I appreciate that, which is why I think it’s okay to admit I freaked out, not to make you feel bad or anything. I know it isn’t cool to admit shit like that, but I just want to be real with you.”
We make it to my car.
I lean against the driver’s side door and face him, taking both of his hands in mine. “That’s what I want. To be open.”
Seth takes a step closer. “Full disclosure then.” He smiles and leans in, his mouth near mine. “What happened in the library was so fucking hot, I’ve been a walking hard on since.”
I giggle.
He presses his lips to my cheek. “It’s time to get these official dates started, Hannah.”
I nod. “Tomorrow night?”
“Yes. Right.” He groans it.
I grasp his jacket and turn my mouth to meet his, nipping at his lower lip. He makes a frustrated noise, grasps the back of my head, and angles his head for deeper access to the kiss—and it explodes. His body is pressed against mine, pinning me in between the car and him. I love it but hate all the layers between us.
“Is everything off the table?” I ask under his lips.
He hums a question.
“Sex is. But everything else?” I’m thinking of touching him, about going down on him. “If I get you in the car…”
His body still pinning me, Seth leans back to take in my face in the cold parking lot illuminated by evenly spaced light posts. He smiles and straightens. A rush of cold fills the space between us, and I long to fill it back up with our warmth.
“Better not,” he says. “If I get you in that car, Hannah, I’m going to town.”
I laugh.
He tucks a strand of my hair behind an ear under my cap, leans forward, and plants a sweet kiss on my mouth. “Call me when you get home? So I know you’re safe.”
I nod, my heart warmed by his thoughtfulness, then get into the car, and start it so the heater warms the space. Seth walks across the parking lot to wherever he’s parked his car, disappearing into the darkness. When the car is warm enough, I drive the few minutes it takes to cross town to my apartment building and park, gathering my things before starting across the complex.
Headlights slash the driveway in front of me, and I pause to let the car pass.
But it doesn’t. Instead, it veers onto the curb, blocking the path to the stairs. I retreat several steps, confused.
Then I realize it’s Sebastian. My heart constricts, then freefalls through my body toward my feet.
He jumps out. “What the fuck, Hannah!”
I scuttle away from him, drawing my phone out of my pocket simultaneously, placing a call to Jewel, who’s on my emergency contacts. “You need to leave, Bash.”
He walks around the still running car, his body cutting the flare of the headlamps and casting a shadow as he passes. “You moved on really easily. I went out of my way to see you after work, and you’re nearly fucking him in parking lot.”
“I told you it’s over between us,” I say. “I’ve said it repeatedly.”
He points at me. “It’s over when I fucking say it’s over. And it isn’t.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Sebastian. You broke up with me, remember. You moved on. You needed something else. You need to stop this.”
“Fuck!” He yells it at the top of his lungs, and my breath catches. His anger turns him from the Sebastian I knew into a scary stranger.
I wrap my arms around myself and start toward the stairs, giving him a wide berth. “You need to leave me alone.”
He turns in his spot, watching me go, but doesn’t come after me. “You’re mine, Hannah.”
“Hannah?” Jewel yells from three floors up. I hear her footfalls on the stairwell.
“Here,” I call out to Jewel, now around the car and moving up the walkway toward the stairwell. “This stops now, Bash. Or I’m calling campus security.”
“For what?”
“To report you. This isn’t okay.”
“And who do you think they’d believe?” He sneers at me.
It feels like a threat even if the words aren’t, but my belly clenches, and a sour taste works its way up my throat. I shake my head, but words feel disconnected and unavailable. He’s a football star. He’s the golden child going in the draft. He’s the hometown prince. Who am I? I swallow and wonder what’s happening.
What has just happened?
He hasn’t touched me.
My feelings are careening inside of me like pinballs: fear, rationalization, anger, frustration, logic.
Then Jewel is next to me, taking my hand in hers. She points it at Sebastian. “Get the fuck out of here and stay away from her.”
“What are you going to do?”
“What are you going to do, Sebastian?” Jewel asks, throwing his words back at him.
“Are you threatening me?” he asks her.
“Were you threatening her?” Jewel asks.
I tug on her to get her moving with me up the steps. If security wouldn’t believe me when it comes to Sebastian, they won’t believe her. It might be worse for her. I grab her arm. “Let’s go.”
Jewel and I retreat up the steps. “I’m so sorry,” I tell her over and over.
“Hush now,” she says. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Mine, Hannah! I’ll fuck everything up,” Sebastian yells, his voice still loud and invasive. “I will.”
I know he’s talking about Seth, and I can’t, for the life of me, fathom why Sebastian even cares.