Page 2 of Sexting the Pakhan
“You aren’t.”
Two words. That’s all. Calm, simple, not flirtatious in the slightest.
My face still gets hot.
I tuck a piece of hair behind my ear and force myself to stand like a normal person instead of someone about to burst into flames. “I was just reshelving.”
His gaze shifts to the overloaded cart beside me. “I can see that.”
There’s something there, maybe amusement, maybe not. With him it’s hard to tell. He doesn’t give much away.
“Did you need something from this section?” I ask.
“Possibly.”
I don’t know why I say it. Maybe nerves. Maybe sleep deprivation. Maybe I’ve finally lost my mind after too many months of silently crushing on him from behind the circulation desk.
“That’s very decisive.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I want to throw myself into the return bin. I feel it instantly, that horrible internal jolt ofoh my God, why would you say that.
But then his mouth shifts. Not a full smile, but close enough that I catch it.
“Is decisiveness important to you?” he asks.
I stare at him.
This is already more conversation than we usually have. Usually, he hands me his library card, I scan his books, and I spend the next twenty minutes trying not to relive the interaction in humiliating detail.
“I think it helps in some situations,” I say.
“Such as?”
“Asking someone out.”
Silence.
My soul leaves my body.
I actually hear myself laugh, bright and awful. “Not that I’m doing that. Obviously. I mean in general. Hypothetically. For people who ask other people out.”
He watches me for a moment, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. I never can.
“Hypothetically,” he says.
“Yes.”
“That would require courage.”
I fold my hands together so he won’t see me fidget. “Some people have that.”
“And some don’t?”
I let out a little breath that almost turns into a laugh. “Some people alphabetize books for a living and avoid eye contact under pressure.”
His gaze stays on my face. “You seem to be making eye contact now.”
I should be dead. There is no other reasonable conclusion.
