And normally you loved listening to Travis talk about whatever fun fact he’d picked up that day or new story he had, his excitement about the small stuff was one of the things you loved most about him. But that evening, his constant rambling was starting to wear thin.

“And then I was walking down the street and I saw this dog, I think it a labrador, that was the cutest damn thing I saw all day.” He was giving you a play-by-play of his entire day. “Then I found out the coffee shop was out of my favourite syrup, that was kind of annoying.”

You rubbed your temples gently from where you sat at the kitchen table, a headache starting to form. Travis continued on, blissfully unaware of how tired you were. “God, and then the radio started playing that song that I hate. You know the one with the really annoying melody-“

“Travis, can you please just stop talking for a minute?” You stopped him mid-speech. He glanced up at you, surprise written on his features. You never asked him to be quiet, normally you were asking him a million questions about his day. Today you were just silent.

“What’s wrong with you?” Travis asked. “You don’t seem like yourself today?”

You sighed. “I’m just tired, and your constant voice in my ear is really annoying.” You knew how unfair you were being but the growing headache was making it hard to care. Travis frowned.

“You don’t have to be so mean, I was just telling you about my day.”

“Well, can you tell me later? I’m just not in the mood right now.” You hoped he would get the hint and just drop it, let you have some peace and quiet to recover from your day. He didn’t.

“I’m sorry that I was sharing my day with you, I guess that makes me a terrible boyfriend.”

“That’s not what I meant.” You fired back. “Please, Travis. I had a really long day, I don’t want to argue right now.”

“Well, too late. I guess we’re arguing right now.”

You stood up. “You’re being kind of unfair right now, I’m just asking for a little bit of quiet.”

“And you’re kind of being a pain in the ass right now.” The words were out of his mouth before he even had a chance to process them. You took a physical step back. Travis hadn’t meant it, of course he hadn’t. It was just said in the heat of the moment. But it didn’t make it hurt any less. Travis seemed to realise what he’d just said and his face crumpled. “OK, wait. I didn’t mean that.”

“No, you made your feelings pretty clear.” You turned around, getting ready to leave. Travis moved forward to grab your hand.

“Wait, can we please just talk?”

“I don’t want to talk, Travis. Just leave me alone.” You shot back at him, tearing your hand away from him. He looked like a sad puppy dog as your words hit him, but you were so tired and you couldn’t deal with it right now. “I’m going to bed, just give me some fucking space. OK.”

With that said you stormed out of the kitchen, heading straight for the bedroom and slamming the door behind you. It did nothing for the pain in your head. As you collapsed into bed, the day finally caught up to you and tears spilled over. Burying your face in the pillow, you sobbed silently into the cushion, not wanting Travis to hear you. You knew if he did, he would have to come in and console you. Normally he was exactly what you needed to feel better, he’d kiss your temple softly, pulling you into him and whispering softly into your ear how much he loved you. But you were too pissed off with him right now, you just wanted to sleep.

At some point, you heard him slip into the bedroom and climb into bed next to you, at which point you pretended you were asleep. For a fleeting moment, you wondered if he was going to try and wake you up, you wouldn’t have been too angry if he had. The headache was subsiding now and you wanted to talk things through with him. It would have made it better. But then he rolled over away from you and before long you heard his breathing even out, signalling he had fallen asleep.

So much for talking things through.

**

You didn’t speak to Travis at all the next day. When he came into the kitchen that morning, you abruptly grabbed your coffee and walked out. You left for work while he was in the shower, not bothering to hang around and kiss him goodbye which was something you always did. While you were at work, he texted you to check in but you left him on read. No matter how much it was hurting not speaking to him, you kept replaying the events of last night in your head. That hurt much more.

When you came home that evening, Travis was already there. You immediately made to retreat to the bedroom but something stopped you. The smell of food came in from the kitchen, making your mouth water. Your lunch had been hours ago, you were absolutely starving and your feet took you straight in there. Travis was plating up some pasta, your favourite dish and when he saw you there he gave you his best apologetic smile.

“What’s this?” You asked, keeping some distance despite how much it was killing you.

“It’s an apology for being such a dick last night.” He told you. “Baby, I’m so sorry for what I said, I didn’t mean it at all. I wasn’t listening to you.”

You felt your heart swell a little. “Oh, Travis. I’m sorry too, I was just in such a bad mood yesterday, I had the shift from hell.”

“I know, honey. It wasn’t your fault, I should have just stopped talking when you asked me to.”

You couldn’t hold it back anymore, hurrying over and launching yourself into his arms. Twenty-four hours without talking to him, or being held by him was too much. He hugged you tightly, pulling you as close to him as possible and kissing the top of your head. Finally you felt comforted, you felt so much better. He pressed soothing kisses to your temple softly. “Hey, why don’t you eat some dinner and go take a shower, tonight is all about you, OK.”

“I love you, baby,” you told him. “I don’t want you to stop talking, I love that about you.”

Travis chuckled. “Glad to hear it, because you know how much I love talking to you, it’s my favourite thing to do.”

**

You ate dinner and took a long shower, feeling the stress of the day wash off you. As soon as you were done, you made your way into the bedroom where Travis was getting changed, standing there shirtless. It never failed to amaze you just how gorgeous your boyfriend was. He saw you standing there in just a towel and smiled.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, you know that.”

You never tired of hearing him tell you that. “I missed you today, baby.”

Travis made his way over to you slowly, eyes dragging over your figure. You smiled shyly, glancing down at the floor until he reached you, fingers brushing your jaw as he pulled your gaze back up to him. “Don’t get all shy on me now, pretty girl. You know how good you look right now?” He leaned in to whisper in your ear. “Want me to show how much I missed you as well?”

You melted into his touch, revelling in how his lips ghosted your jawline, slowly moving down to your neck. A soft moan escaped you as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. He smirked against your skin. “Does that feel good, baby?”

“Hmm.” You hummed as your eyes flickered shut as he continued pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck. With hands on your waist, he walked the two of you over to the bed, laying you down gently as he pressed his lips to yours. You carded your hands in his hair, earning a groan from him which gave you the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, the kiss turning hot and heavy in mere moments.

Travis gently removed the towel from around you and lay you down against the pillows, hovering over you as he smiled. The way he looked at you like you were his whole world never got old. He wasted no time in capturing your lips again, pressing against as you felt how hard he was through his jeans. A sigh escaped your lips.

“Travis.” You breathed.

“What is it, baby” He asked, tongue laving over your skin, hands tangling with yours.

“I need you.”

He laughed softly. “Poor baby, needs me so badly, huh?” His kisses trailed downwards. “But I’m not done with you yet. I told you tonight was all about you.”

He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, down your chest and down to your breasts, all the while muttering sweet nothings against your skin. “So beautiful. Fuck, you’re so perfect, honey.”

“Travis.” You moaned loudly, back arching off the bed as his tongue found one of your nipples, tongue smoothing over it in circles. “Baby, that feels so good.”

“Sound so pretty, honey. Fuck, I missed you.”

“I missed you so much, baby.” You breathed softly. “I need you so bad.” You released his hands and snaked them into his hair again, tugging softly. “Please, baby. Make me feel good.”

“Fuck.” Hearing you say you missed him, and begging for him. Travis was completely done for. Without warning, he flipped you over onto your stomach, hands snaking underneath you as he pressed against your back, whispering into your ear. “Sit up for me, sweetheart.”

You did as you were told, getting up onto your hands as you heard him undoing his belt. Wasting no time, his hand returned to your waist and he drew gentle circles into your skin. “Are you ready for me, baby?”

“Please, Travis.”

He lined himself up with you and slowly pushed into you, making you moan as you felt him fill you up. You loved this position with him, and he knew exactly the right angle to hit that felt perfect. With every thrust, the moans falling from your lips grew louder. Travis was right there with you, groaning as he allowed his hands to explore, capturing your breasts and kneading them gently. As a particularly loud moan escaped you, Travis quickly pulled out and flipped you over, lining up with your entrance and slowly pushing inside of you. He was determined to make sure you finished first.

As he began thrusting again, he buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing your skin softly and finding your hands again. “Let go for me, honey. I want to feel you come around me.”

His words had you chasing your high, orgasm washing over you as he continued his pace. It wasn’t long before he was following after you, pulling out before he came. As soon as you both came down from your high, you wrapped your arms around him, both breathing heavily.

“That was amazing, honey.” Travis murmured.

“I really did miss you.” You told him. “I hate it when we fight.”

“I promise to never be such an idiot again.”

**

Back in the day, you were the kind of girl that could be found dancing on tabletops and out drinking every meathead in whatever grimy establishment you'd stumbled into for the night.

That version of you would probably be horrified to see the way you spend your Saturday nights now.

Truth is, you don't care at all. You love the little weekend ritual you'd created for yourself in the year since the abrupt end to your engagement. At thirty two years old, you're choosing to embrace the freedom that comes with having no kids, husband, or mortgage.

So that means you like to smoke a joint on your front porch as the sun is setting on your quiet street that's tucked away from the busier parts of the city. It also means that pants are optional while you sprawl out on the couch and load Animal Crossing: New Horizons on your TV to work on your astrology themed island. And most importantly: it means you can do all of this without some sad excuse of a fiance whining in your ear that your hobbies are childish.

Because while you like to get high and play video games, at least you can say you've never fucked your best friend's girlfriend while still engaged to someone else.

The only being on this planet that you'll tolerate judging you now is Mazzy, the sassy little grey cat currently curled up in the arm chair in the corner of your living room. And she always is, but she does so silently.

You hum along to the golden hour music of the game as you plant some glowing moss in your virtual garden, momentarily dazed by the graphics when your stomach growls.

"Oh shit." You giggle and sit up, realization piercing through your THC induced euphoria. "Mazzy, I forgot I ordered Wingstop!"

Your cat narrows her green eyes at you and yawns, completely uninterested in your latest case of the munchies. You dig around the couch for your phone and curse when you see there was a ring notification from twenty minutes ago when your Doordash driver dropped off your order.

"Fuck!"

After scanning the room and finding your sleep shorts, you quickly yank them on and run down your private stairwell, praying to the fast food gods that your order is still outside. You open the door to the small hallway that connects your apartment to the first floor unit and peer out onto the porch, relieved to see a green and white bag waiting there for you.

"Oh thank god!" You push open the front door and step into the warm, spring air.

When you pick up the bag, the unfamiliar scent of something sweet and tangy hits your nose. Frowning, you scan the receipt stuck to the front of the bag and see this order has hot honey and mango habenero tenders with voodoo fries, a.k.a nothing that you ordered. In fact, whoever did order this happened to pick out the flavors you wouldn't eat even in your compromised state.

A more thorough scan of the receipt tells you that this order belongs to your neighbor downstairs based on the address and there's just the initial 'T' being used as the customer name. You have no idea who this person is since they moved in while you were at work last week and you're not really the type to go out of your way to be social. But you're definitely going to make your presence known now.

You step back into the hallway and bang on the front door of the downstairs apartment, ready to chew out whoever is on the other side of that door. To your horror, out walks the third-to-last person you ever wanted to see, right behind your ex and the girl he replaced you with. The man before you with frizzy, bleach blonde hair is shirtless with his gray sweatpants hanging low on his hips as he holds a half-eaten Louisianna Rub tender. The smell of weed and your favorite wing flavor pours out of the apartment.

"Oh for fuck's sake…" Your jaw drops when it registers who your new neighbor is. "Teacake?"

"Hm?" His curls bounce as he shakes his head and his bloodshot eyes zero in on you. "Oh shit…it's you."

"Yeah." A million questions go through your head: What the hell are you doing living in the apartment below mine? Has your best friend, the same guy who ripped my heart out of my chest, died a slow and painful death yet? What have you been up to in the last year since our exes ruined our fucking lives? But you opt to stay on topic. "Did you take my Wingstop order?"

"What?" He chuckles, as if that's the most ridiculous thing he's been accused of. Which you find ironic considering this man's been to prison for unknowingly being some other idiot's getaway driver after robbing a convenience store. "No, 'course I didn't."

"Really?" You tilt your head to the side and lift the bag you're holding. "Because this one doesn't have anything I ordered and last I checked I live in unit two, not one."

He stares at the bag and looks back at the tender he's eating. "Fuck…I thought these tasted a little different."

"Are you kidding me?" you yell, though part of you wants to ask what he's smoking that gets him that out of it. "Who the hell does that!"

"Fuck, I'm really sorry." He holds up his hands, still grasping the god forsaken tender that taunts you. "It's been a long day buildin' furniture, unpackin', and shit."

"Whatever." You shake the bag. "Can we just switch so I can get on with my night?"

"Er…" He swallows and winces. "This is the last one. Already ate the others. And the fries."

You scoff. "You ate five tenders and a large side of fries in twenty minutes?"

"Technically, four and a half." He waves the last remains of your order in your face, holding back a laugh. "You can keep my order."

"I don't like the flavors you picked!" You shove the bag at him and you swear you see him smirk, making you even more annoyed. "I'd rather chew on glass than eat hot honey tenders."

He shakes his head. "Now that's just crazy talk. What'd hot honey ever do to you?"

"Be the stupid flavor that you chose to order tonight." You cross your arms and turn toward the door to your apartment. "Welcome to the neighborhood, I guess."

"Hey, wait," Teacake calls out your name and leans back on his door frame, grinning when you turn around. "You're looking pretty good by the way. Haven't see you since—"

"No!" You hold up a hand, your palm facing him. "Let me make one thing clear: we are not going to talk about James and Amber. Ever. In fact, let's just not talk at all."

"Come on, babydoll." His hazel eyes twinkle, and you hate how you're staring enough to notice the flecks of green under the hallway light. "We're neighbors now. If you wanna come in and get comfortable, I'll order you some more food."

You roll your eyes. "Pass."

Before that big mouth of his can say anything else, you push through your door and trudge up the stairs to return to your sanctuary. You pull out your phone and call your sister, not wanting to wait to tell her which ghost from your humiliating past just moved in downstairs.

After a Wingstop-less evening, you wake up trying to wrap your head around the fact that James' best friend and Amber's ex-boyfriend now lives in the apartment under yours.

You'd worked so hard to build your new normal totally separate from that group that had taken up so much real estate in your life. Truth be told, you didn't even like hanging out with James' friends on the best of days. Teacake wasn't the worst of them; in fact despite being spacey and impulsive, you might dare to say he's a nice guy. But you found him completely untrustworthy due to his awful taste in women, exhibit A being Amber, the wannabe wellness influencer that never ran out of condescending things to say to you.

Not to mention, Teacake had always been the doormat of the group. At least, you thought he'd been way too forgiving of all the shitty things his friends always did. You have no idea what his relationship with them all is like now since all you'd heard after the implosion of your engagement was that he'd gone off the grid on some sort of retreat to nurse his broken heart. You wouldn't be surprised though if he'd found it in his wanderlust, bohemian heart to forgive James and Amber. That terrifies you, because if either of those two ever set foot on your porch, you're not confident in your ability to keep your cool. You definitely don't need to give James and Amber another reason to see you as some bitter, hysterical ex.

The whole thing is absolutely fucked. You pad around your kitchen to make your morning coffee and think about how Teacake would respond to a mysterious, threatening letter asking him to move out immediately.

Seriously. The whole city of Boston and he just had to move into the vacant unit below you?

You spend the morning sprawled out on the couch with Mazzy, watching TV and scrolling through Tiktok at the same time with the hope that the screen overload will get your mind off of things. Then, at around one in the afternoon, someone rings your doorbell. You get up and swipe the touchscreen in your living room, groaning when you see Teacake, still shirtless, standing on the porch in front of your Ring camera.

"Go away," you yell into the speaker.

"Can we talk, please?" Teacake holds up a Wingstop bag to the camera. "I brought a peace offering."

You lean against the wall and consider your options. Unfortunately, you are pretty hungry and still craving the chicken tenders you were denied last night. So you open the front door and go downstairs to meet Teacake in your shared hallway.

He offers a lopsided smile when you open the door and offers the bag to you. "Five Louisianna Rub tenders and a large side of lemon pepper fries."

You take bag and narrow your eyes. "Did you get them well done?"

Teacake scoffs. "Obviously."

"Hm." You drum your fingers on the door frame. "And did you get extra ranch?"

"I'm no amateur, honey." He puts his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. "Gotta say, I've always loved a woman that knows how to eat."

That definitely doesn't track, considering Amber once tried to convince you that dates covered in almond butter taste the same as a snickers bar. "What are you even doing here in Boston? I thought you were moving back to Atchison after the breakup."

He shrugs. "Didn't wanna have to leave my job at the studio. Weren't a lot of openings as a yoga teacher in Kansas."

"Well…payment accepted." You hug the bag to your chest. "That bought you five more minutes of conversation."

"Alright." Teacake huffs out a laugh. "It occurred to me that you might be worried about if any, well…familiar characters are gonna be comin' round here."

"The thought crossed my mind." You reach into the bag and take a bite of a fry.

"Trust me, that ain't happenin'." He slices the air with his hand to emphasize his point. "I really don't talk much to those guys anymore, but especially not James and Amber."

You raise your eyebrows. "That's somewhat reassuring."

"Yeah." Teacake scratches the back of his neck. "So, if you…I don't know, you don't have to avoid me. Because of that."

The kind, vulnerable expression on his face reminds you that this guy was hurt too, more so than you thought if he's actually cut his best friend out of his life. Maybe he deserves a bit of grace for his takeout mishap. You already didn't have a ton of friends before James, so you can only imagine how lonely he must feel. Under different circumstances, maybe you could've help with that.

"Listen, thanks for the food," You gesture to the bag. "I don't mean to be bitchy, but as much as I'd like to say I've moved past the break up…it still hurts a lot. Looking at you just reminds me of a time in my life that I'm actively trying to forget."

Teacake flinches. "I was just as blindsided as you, ya know."

"I know you were," you say honestly. The image of him showing up at the doorstep of your old apartment (the one you shared with James) with tear stained cheeks and a wild, desperate stare is burned into your memory forever. "I'm not saying it's your fault, the reminder part I mean. I just spent so much time tied up in your friend group's drama and then ultimately became a casualty so…that's why I'm not really looking to hang out anytime soon."

He gives you a strange expression that you can't quite name. Like you've caught him off guard. "I'm real sorry about all that."

"No need to be." You shrug. "Already told you it's not your fault. Just don't crowd my car in the driveway or take my food when I have the munchies again and we'll be good."

"Munchies?" Teacake puts his hands on his hips and tilts his head. "You smoke pot?"

He looks at you with renewed interest, his adorable, wide eyes reminding you of a golden retriever desperate to play. You force yourself to ignore the warmth that blooms low in your gut and turn back into your stairwell. "Goodbye, Teacake."

You manage to go a whole three days without another reminder of Teacake's presence. You settle back into your routine and throw yourself into work on Monday while Mazzy supervises your efforts from the daybed in your home office.

By Wednesday night, you're in need of a reset from the corporate grind, so you pour yourself a glass of wine and settle into bed early to watch a movie. While you're scrolling through options on Netflix, a faint thumping noise travels up from below.

You think nothing of it at first since it sounds just like the dryer you always used to hear when your old neighbors lived downstairs. Then you hear the moaning.

"Fuck!" A distinctly female voice yells. "Just like that…"

"Oh. You gotta be kidding me." You lean back against the headboard and put on whatever your remote had been hovering over, cranking the volume all the way up.

"That's right," Teacake grunts, loud enough to still be audible above the movie. "Takin' me so well."

You grab a pillow next to you and scream into it, even though you know this anger is not rational at all. Teacake is a grown man and is allowed to fuck whoever he wants, you just really wish you didn't have to be made aware of it. Not just because you like to forget his world currently exists right below your feet, but also that there was a part of you kind of now somewhat interested in what sex with Teacake would be like.

Hell, this random girl seems to be having a good time. Better than any of your previous experiences, as sad as that is to admit. Your cheeks burn as you dig through your nighstand for your wireless headphones and connect them to your TV so you can block out the noise.

Two days later on Friday night, you're reading on your back porch when you hear Teacake's door open below. Soft voices carry up to you, and you realize that he's got a woman with him again. Judging by the fact her voice is noticeably different from last time, it's someone new too. You roll your eyes and return to your book, considering you were here first and it sounds like they're just sharing a joint anyway.

"What is this?" The girl giggles. "I feel so…I don't know, like, amazing."

Wonder if it's the same strain that makes him take Wingstop orders that aren't his…You huff and sink further into your chair.

"Yeah?" Teacake chuckles. "I'd love to add onto that feeling if you're up for it."

They continue to giggle and shift on the cushions of his patio couch. You hear a zipper pulled down and fabric sliding off of someone's legs. Your head snaps up, thinking that surely he's not going to…

The unmistakable sounds of wet, open mouth kisses on that girl's pussy fill the air, followed by her cries of pleasure. You sit up and plan on going inside when Teacake's muffled groans make you freeze.

You thought enthusiastic eaters like this only existed in legend (and the romance novels you read). But right now you're experiencing second hand exposure to a real life man that's lapping at some girl's cunt like it's his last meal. You should go back inside, as it now feels weird to listen in on them. But it's not like you set out to do this, you were minding your own business on your porch. Plus, there were other duplexes not even six feet away from yours…anyone could see them.

The thought caused heat to pool low in your belly. You drag a hand down your face and quickly go back inside, not hesitating to grab your vibrator once you're safely back in your room. You'd never admit this to anyone else, but you get off that night at the image of a bleach blonde stoner enthusiastically going down on you.

Once you've wrung every last drop of pleasure from yourself, you march into your office and start typing up a spreadsheet.

You stomp down the steps to Teacake's apartment first thing the next day, not even thinking about your bed head and morning breath before banging on his door. He opens it while holding a breakfast burrito, not wearing a shirt (you're starting to think he never does when he's home). You force yourself not to stare at his chest hair or how firm his pecs feel when you slap the piece of paper you have on them.

His brow furrows as he scans the paper, still chewing on his burrito. "What's this?"

You cross your arms. "My weekly schedule."

He stares at it and raises an eyebrow, laughing when he looks back up at you. "You plan your TV time?"

"It's not locked in stone, it's just my average routine." You poke the page with your pointer figure. "I'm giving it to you for reference so that you can plan your booty calls at times that are more convenient for me."

"Oh?" His eyes twinkle as he sighs. "Listen, I know you're territorial of this house—"

"Excuse me? I am not."

"Babydoll, you've been growling and snapping like a rabid dog. Think I can't hear you slammin' doors and shit up there? It's kinda cute actually, not gonna lie." He winks, making you scowl. "Anyway, those intimate moments of mine aren't planned so I don't need this."

He holds the paper out and you shove his hand back towards him. "Well, maybe you can start planning them because I'm sick of listening to it when I'm trying to relax."

Teacake stares at you for a moment, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. "You know…you're always welcome to join if ya want."

Your face burns as your mouth falls open. Amber must've really done a number on him, because you don't remember him ever being this forward. "Ha. Fuck you."

A stupidly smug smile spreads on his lips, which he then licks as he drinks you in with his eyes. "That's what I'm offering."

If you didn't know he's just messing with you, due to the fact that you know you're not someone he'd ever been interested in, you might be tempted to jump into his arms and take him up on said offer.

"UGH! You're disgusting!" You march back upstairs, but not before flipping him off.

From that day on, you decide that Teacake is at the top of your shit list, shared trauma be damned.

Taglist: @djorkinnit @ann-aatn @tellcherhesgone

Comment below if you'd like to be added or removed! 🩵

Series Masterlist

You didn’t want to lie to yourself — the moment he stepped inside, you genuinely thought he was going to rob the place. He wore an oversized uniform that looked a bit worn around the edges, his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, and he was casting a frantic, darting gaze around the room. 

It was the kind of nervous look that usually screamed trouble. He certainly didn’t look like the usual crowd of quiet college students or elderly neighbors who came in to look around the poetry section. 

You instinctively straightened your posture, keeping your eyes glued to his movements as he took a few hesitant, shaky steps further into the shop.

But then, he caught you looking; and instead of turning away or darting down an aisle to hide, he walked straight toward the desk. 

When he finally spoke, all your defenses immediately crumbled. His voice was soft, carrying a tone so genuinely polite and deeply nervous that a little part of your heart instantly softened.

"Um, excuse me," he said, clearing his throat and looking down at his shoes before meeting your eyes. "I was wondering... could you maybe help me find a good book? A recommendation, I mean. I’m a bit lost."

You blinked, caught entirely off guard by the sharp contrast between his intimidating, defensive posture and his gentle voice.

"Sure, I can absolutely help you with that," you said, offering a small, reassuring smile to ease the obvious tension in his shoulders. "What kind of genre do you usually like to read?"

He blinked back at you, his eyes widening slightly as if you had just asked him to solve a complex mathematical equation.

"G-genre?" he stammered, shifting his weight uneasily from one foot to the other. "Oh. Wow. Okay. To be honest, I’ve never really thought about it like that before. I mean, I know there are a lot of different genres out there, obviously. There’s romance, history, mystery, biography... but I’ve just never stopped to ask myself, ‘Hey, what genre do you actually like?’ You know? It’s kind of a big question when you think about it. I like a lot of random things, I guess. But then again, maybe there’s something I absolutely hate? Probably—"

He was talking faster and faster, his words tripping over one another as his hands came out of his pockets to gesture wildly in the air. You couldn’t help but realize right then and there that he was one of those people. The kind of person who gets so incredibly nervous or excited that they just keep talking and talking, and you have to physically step in to stop them before they go on for hours. 

It was almost endearing.

"How about horror?" you asked, gently cutting him off with a soft, amused laugh.

He stopped mid-sentence, his mouth staying slightly open for a second before his brain fully processed your words. He tilted his head, genuinely thinking it over.

"Horror?" he repeated, the tension leaving his face. "Yeah. Yeah, actually, I like horror. That sounds pretty good."

You smiled and walked out from behind the safety of the counter, stepping into the narrow aisles of the library. The space between the tall, wooden bookshelves was tight, making every movement feel just a bit more intimate. 

You turned your head back over your shoulder, gesturing for him to follow you. He nodded quickly and, with a slightly clumsy scramble, stepped right into place behind you.

You could feel his physical presence just a step away. He was tall, and his frame made the narrow aisle feel even smaller than it usually did. The air between you felt a bit charged, a strange but not unpleasant tension growing as you guided him deeper into the shadows of the fiction section.

"Let’s see what we have here..." you murmured, running your fingertips lightly along the dusty spines of the books.

The familiar texture of paper and leather usually calmed you down, but right now, you were acutely aware of him watching your every move. You could hear his quiet breathing right behind you.

Suddenly, a loud, heavy sound broke the silence of the place.

You jumped slightly and spun around. 

A thick book was lying flat on the floorboards between the two of you. He was already frantically bending down, his face flushing a soft crimson that reached all the way to his ears.

He picked up the book with trembling hands and shoved it back onto the shelf. He didn’t even check if it was the right spot before burying his hands deep into his uniform pockets again, looking exactly like a kid who had just been caught breaking a valuable vase. 

"I’m sorry."

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to contain a genuine smile. 

His sudden embarrassment was incredibly sweet, completely shattering any lingering awkwardness or suspicion you had left. 

You reached past him, your shoulder brushing lightly against his, and pulled a specific book from the top shelf. You turned and extended it toward him.

"Try this one," you said softly. "It has horror, suspense, a bit of science fiction... a little bit of everything, really."

He cautiously took his hands out of his pockets and accepted the book from you. As his fingers brushed against yours, a small, sudden jolt of awareness ran through your veins. 

He held the book up to his face, scanning the cover and frowning slightly as he took in his first impression.

"The Body Snatcher," he read the title out loud. His voice trailed off, a highly skeptical look appearing on his face. He looked up at you. "A bit creepy, don’t you think?"

You shrugged your shoulders playfully, leaning back against the sturdy bookshelf and crossing your arms.

"Well, if it’s a bit too much for you, I can always take you over to the children’s section," you teased, dropping your voice to a whisper. "They have some really great picture books over there. Very safe."

He looked up from the cover, and a wide, genuine smile broke across his face. You couldn’t deny it — from the very first moment he smiled, it had a strange, indescribable effect on you. Your stomach did a sudden little flip, and the small aisle suddenly felt much warmer than it had a few minutes ago.

"No, no," he laughed softly, holding the book a bit tighter against his chest. "I’ll take this one. If it’s okay with you, I mean."

"Perfect," you replied, leading the way back to the front of the library and stepping behind the desk. "I hope you enjoy it, uhm..." You paused intentionally waiting for him to fill in the blank.

"Travis," he said quickly, reaching across the counter and extending his right hand toward you.

"Travis," you repeated. The name fitted him perfectly. You smiled, telling him your own name as you reached out to take his hand.

His grip was warm and firm, but instead of a quick, polite business shake, your hands stayed joined a second longer than necessary. Neither of you seemed to want to break the contact first. Travis’s smile widened, a soft, knowing look appearing in his eyes that made your heart beat just a bit faster.

"I’ll see you in a month, then," you said, finally letting go of his hand, though you already felt the sudden absence of his warmth. "That’s usually how long it takes people to finish that one."

"I’ll probably be back around here way before that," Travis replied smoothly, his eyes locked onto yours with a newfound confidence.

You nodded, a sudden wave of happy anticipation washing over you. 

"Deal."

"Deal," he repeated with a final nod. With a lingering wave, he turned around and walked toward the exit.

Your eyes followed him every single step of the way. You watched him push open the door, the bell chiming once more as he stepped out onto the busy sidewalk. The very moment the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a long, heavy sigh, only just realizing that you had been holding your breath the entire time.

—

These days, the book discussions between the two of you have become a regular habit.

"I just don’t know if I really get the motive, you know?" Travis has been talking for twenty minutes straight about Frankenstein, the book you recommended to him just last week.

You hold out your hand, and he smoothly passes you a heavy hardcover volume, his large, calloused fingers securing the base of the wooden rolling ladder while you climb up a few steps to slide it back into its proper place on the high shelf. 

This has become your routine. Every single Friday, right before he starts his night shift at the local storage facility, he walks through the front doors of the library to pick up a new recommendation.

He took his sweet time reading the first books.

But lately? He devours them faster and faster, his reading speed accelerating until it becomes completely impossible not to see him crossing that threshold at 5:00 PM sharp, eyes scanning the room until they land on you, eagerly waiting for his next acquisition.

"What exactly is it that you don’t understand?" you ask him, looking down from the ladder and extending your hand again to silently ask for another book from the pile.

Travis shrugs his broad shoulders, turning around slightly to grab the next book and handing it up to you. As the physical exchange happens, your fingers brush against his. The contact lasts for only a second, but a sudden spark of heat shoots straight up your arm.

"I don’t know. The why of it all," he mutters, crossing his thick arms over his chest and leaning his weight back against the side of the ladder. 

The way the material of his uniform stretches tightly across his broad chest and biceps whenever he moves is the kind of sight that, if you stare or think about it for too long, makes a deep blush creep up your neck. 

"Why create the monster in the first place? Why go through all that trouble just to abandon it?"

You smile, shaking your head gently as you slide the book into its perfect, tight slot on the shelf. 

"You lack ambition, Travis."

He frowns, his dark eyes intently tracking the subtle movements of your body as you begin your descent down the wooden steps of the ladder. 

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

When your feet finally touch the solid linoleum floor, your body is positioned directly in front of him. The space between you is incredibly small, close enough that you can smell his scent. 

You shrug your shoulders playfully.

"It’s about power. It’s about feeling like God, even," you murmur. You reach out and grab a fresh stack of heavy books from a nearby cart, your knuckles intentionally grazing against the side of his stomach. "Haven’t you ever wanted to have total, absolute power over something?" you ask him, your voice dropping into a teasing, playful whisper close to his face.

You turn on your heels, your hips swaying just a fraction more than usual as you walk away toward the classic romance section.

Travis stands frozen for a few seconds, his gaze completely locked onto your hips as you walk away from him. He pulls himself away from the ladder, his heavy work boots thudding softly against the floor as he follows you down the narrow, dimly lit aisle of the library stacks.

"I mean... yeah... I guess so," he says, his voice sounding a bit thick, a trace of confusion and growing arousal coloring his tone.

"What do you mean, 'I guess so'?" you ask, turning back to face him and gesturing with your chin for him to pick up another stack of returned books from the bottom shelf to bring along.

He groans softly but complies, bending down. As he does, the hem of his dark work jacket pulls up a few inches, exposing a strip of skin and the dark elastic band of his boxers. He lifts the heavy stack with an effortless grunt, straightening up and following you deeper into the maze of bookshelves.

"I don’t know," Travis mutters, looking down at the books in his arms. "I guess when I was in prison, that was when I felt that need the most. To have control over something. Anything. Over my own life. And I just couldn’t have it."

You let out a soft, sympathetic sound, reaching out to take one of the books from his arms to slide it into a shelf. Travis drops the rest of the stack onto the floor beside his boots. 

For a guy who can talk your ear off about anything, he rarely ever mentions his time behind bars. You never want to pry or push him too hard, but you genuinely appreciate the tiny, rare pieces of information he occasionally lets slip.

"Still, sometimes the desperate need for power can lead straight to your downfall," you remark, carefully aligning the spines of the books on the shelf.

Travis lets out a low, appreciative whistle, leaning his back against the opposite bookshelf, his entire body turned toward you, watching your hands work. 

"Damn. That’s deep."

You smile, casting a quick glance over your shoulder at him before shrugging. 

"But it’s the truth."

He bites his lower lip, trying and failing to hide the broad smile pulling at his mouth, and nodding in agreement.

A comfortable, heavy silence settles between the two of you for a few minutes. The small local library is practically dead, just minutes away from closing up for the night. At this hour, the place is completely deserted. There aren’t even any late-night students lingering around to look for last-minute research books. 

Travis shifts his weight, glancing down at his phone. He’s supposed to leave for his shift in about half an hour.

"So..." Travis starts, his voice dropping an octave. He steps closer, his large hand reaching out as his fingers gently tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. He tilts his head down, trying to catch your gaze while you desperately try to focus on organizing the books. "About our date tomorrow..."

You smile, raising your eyebrows as you finally turn your head to look at him.

"You’re calling that a date?"

His brow furrows, though his expression remains thoroughly playful. 

"It isn’t?"

You let out a soft laugh. "Travis, you invite me to go to a crowded bar with your friends. That is definitely not a date.

Travis rolls his eyes, a dramatic sigh escaping his lips. 

“Oh, come on, you’ve gotta be a little more flexible than that. Things nowadays don’t work like they do in those old books you love so much. What’s it called? Order and Prejudice?”

"Pride and Prejudice," you correct him immediately, reaching out to give his broad shoulder a firm, playful shove.

He laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that vibrates right in his chest. 

"Whatever. Same difference."

You roll your eyes, turning away to walk toward the next section of shelves.

But his large, warm hands reach out, wrapping firmly around your waist from behind. With a gentle tug, he turns your body completely around to face him. 

Startled, you place your palms flat against his chest, feeling the steady thumping of his heart beneath the thick fabric of his uniform.

"Let’s have a date right now, then," he murmurs, his eyes locking onto yours.

You laugh, completely astonished by his sudden boldness. 

"What?"

"Yeah. Seriously. Come on," Travis urges, his hands sliding slightly up and down the sides of your waist, over your shirt, swaying you gently from side to side in a tiny, slow-motion dance. "If you don’t think going out with my buddies counts as a real date, then let’s just have our own date. Right here. Right now." His eyes go down to your mouth before snapping back up. "We can order some greasy food, sit on the floor, and just talk..."

You bite your inner cheek to fight back a growing smile, tilting your head to the side. 

"Travis, you literally have to go to work."

He clicks his tongue against his teeth, waving his hand in the air as if the job meant absolutely nothing to him. 

"I can show up late. Nobody cares over there. That storage is a ghost town and boring as hell. It can survive without its night watchman for a couple of hours."

You place your hands against his chest again, giving him a gentle, firm push to create some distance. 

"I already have plans tonight, Travis. I’m sorry." 

You turn back around, picking up the final stack of books from the cart and walking toward the isolated, shadowy section at the very back of the library where the last few shelves need to be filled.

Travis lets out a heavy, frustrated sigh. 

He rubs his large hands aggressively over his face, his boots scraping against the floor as he storms after you.

"You know, if this is all just because I’m completely not your type, you can just be straight with me and tell me once and for all," he snaps, his voice suddenly losing all its playful warmth, replaced by a raw, biting edge.

You freeze instantly in your tracks. 

The book you were about to slide into the shelf remains gripped tightly in your hand, suspended mid-air. You slowly turn around to look at him, your heart hammering against your ribs. 

"What?"

Travis lets out a sharp, sarcastic laugh, crossing his arms tightly over his chest as he glares at you. 

"It’s fine. Really. I get it. I’m not like those super smart, intellectual college guys who walk through that front door every day. The ones you probably have incredibly deep, fascinating conversations with. I’m not some rich kid with a bright future, either. Hell, I barely managed to get my life back on track after getting out of prison."

He takes a large, aggressive step forward, closing the distance between you in an instant. Your back hits the hard wooden edge of the bookshelf behind you. You are completely cornered, trapped entirely between the solid wall of shelves and the massive, imposing heat of his body.

"But you can’t keep doing this to me," Travis whispers, his voice trembling with a dangerous mix of anger and desperate desire. He leans down, his face inches from yours. "You can’t keep playing this game where you pull me in, get me all twisted up, and then push me away the second I try to get close. It’s driving me completely insane."

You frown, your breath catching in your throat as you stare into his dark, intense eyes. 

"I don’t do that..."

A bitter, humorless smile touches his lips. He shakes his head slowly, his warm breath fanning across your cheeks. 

When he speaks again, his voice is nothing more than a rough, gravelly whisper right against your skin.

"You know what bothers me the most about that creature in the book?" His eyes drop down to your lips, tracking the way they part slightly. "How fucking pathetic he looks, just begging and searching for a little bit of love."

The air between you feels thick. Your breathing is completely erratic, matching the heavy rise and fall of his chest. 

For a long, agonizing second, neither of you say a word. The tension is a living thing, stretching tight enough to snap.

"Whatever," Travis mutters roughly, his eyes darkening with a flash of defeat.

But before he can even begin to pull his body away from yours, your hand shoots out, your fingers wrapping tightly around the collar of his work jacket. With a sudden burst of desperation, you yank him down and slam your lips hard against his.

Travis lets out a low, guttural growl deep in his throat, the sound vibrating directly into your mouth as he reacts instantly. Any trace of hesitation vanished. His large hands fly to your face, his long fingers tangling into your hair as he tilts your head back and kisses you with a raw, bruising hunger. 

It isn’t a gentle kiss; it’s a desperate, starved collision of teeth and tongues. 

He presses his massive body heavily against yours, pinning you flat against the bookshelf. The wood groans under the shifting weight, and a couple of books rattled on the upper shelves, but neither of you care.

You whimper into his mouth, your hands moving from his collar to grip his broad shoulders, pulling him even closer, if that’s even possible. 

His tongue slides deeply into your mouth, claiming you with an aggressive, possessive rhythm that makes your knees completely weak. 

He moves one of his legs in between yours, making you ride the hard, thick muscle of his leg as he rocks his hips forward. The unmistakable, rock-hard length of his growing erection presses firmly against your aching center, even through the layers of your clothes.

"Fuck," Travis growls, tearing his mouth away from yours for a fraction of a second to breathe. 

His breath is hot and heavy against your wet lips. He drags his mouth down your jawline, his teeth nipping sharply at the sensitive skin of your neck, making you arch your back and gasp loudly into the empty, quiet library. 

"You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this. How fucking long I’ve dreamed about tearing your clothes off in this place."

"Travis," you gasp out, your fingers digging into the thick muscles of his back. "The doors... someone might..."

He doesn’t even answer, still pressing his lips against your skin, his hands moving down to grip your waist with a bruising pressure, lifting you slightly so he can grind his crotch harder against yours.

He slides his hands underneath your shirt, his rough, calloused palms scraping against your bare skin, sending a violent shiver straight down your spine. 

He moves up to cup your breasts through your bra, squeezing the soft flesh roughly, his thumbs flicking hard over your sensitive nipples until you are whining, your head dropping back against the shelf.

The sheer thrill of being caught, combined with the raw, unfiltered dominance Travis is radiating, completely pushes you over the edge. You want him. You need him right now.

Your hands push at his chest, guiding him backwards. His back hits the bookshelves on the other side, and he grips the edge of it to stabilize himself

"So…" you whisper on his lips. His dark eyes flash with an intense, predatory heat. He understands instantly. His gaze locks onto yours as you reach for the waistband of his work trousers. "Is that all the book analysis you have for me today?"

With a swift, heavy tug, you unbuttoned his pants and shoved them and his dark boxers down past his hips. His cock bounces free, completely thick and fully hard now, pulsing with a heavy vein running down the length of it. 

It’s massive, glistening with a bead of pre-cum at the thick, red head.

Travis lets out a rough, gravelly groan the second he feels your hand wrap around his cock. 

The veins in his neck pop as you slide a little lower, gripping his length tightly from the base. Travis tangles his thick fingers into your hair to anchor himself as he launches into his rant.

"It’s just... seriously, I can’t get over how fucking stupid the guy is," he rasps, his voice dropping an octave and cracking as you kneel down and slowly leave wet kisses on his v-line down his pelvis above the thick pubis hair. "The piece of shit Victor spends months locked up in a lab, playing God, completely obsessed with the idea of creating life... and then when the creature finally opens its eyes... Ah, fuck, right there.. right there, baby!"

You start to suck him with a steady, punishing rhythm from the head of his cock. Travis throws his head back for a second, cutting off his own speech with a dirty groan as your spit completely lubricates his thickness. 

He forces his gaze back down at you, his eyes dark with pure lust, completely turned on by the sight of you on your knees, swallowing him whole on the library floor.

"And then..." he continues, his breathing incredibly ragged as your lips slide up and down his length. "The guy sees that the creature is terriying and just runs away like a fucking coward. If you have the balls to create something, you take responsibility for it. You don’t just abandon it just because it doesn't look or acts as you— ohhh, fuck, shit, baby, mmm, fuck, you take me so fucking well."

Your mouth swirls tighter around him, making his entire body shudder. 

Travis gently tugs your hair back, forcing you to release his cock by just an inch — just enough so he can catch his breath and keep cursing the damn scientists.

"The creature wasn’t born evil, you know? They made him evil by constantly rejecting him. The guy just wanted a shot, someone who wasn’t terrified of him, f—" 

His voice completely breaks as you shove him deeper into your mouth again, swirling your tongue aggressively around his sensitive skin. 

"Holy shit"

Travis can’t hold onto the thread of his analysis anymore. The blinding heat of your mouth is driving him insane, erasing any trace of logic as his hips begin to unconsciously thrust against your lips, completely surrendering to the pleasure.

His fingers tangle in your hair, holding you in place.

"Fucking look at you." Travis moans out, "Do it. Take it."

You don’t hesitate. 

You lean forward, opening your mouth wider, trying to take him completely. Travis lets out a loud, ungodly groan, his hips jerking forward involuntarily. His thighs tremble as you wrap your lips around the head of his cock and suck him down into your throat as deeply as you could manage again.

"Oh, fuck, yes," he gasps, his knuckles turning white as he grips your hair, guiding the rhythm of your head, throwin his own head back. "Suck it, baby. Eat my cock."

The language is dirty, completely stripping away the polite, quiet atmosphere of the library; and it turns you on completely. 

You swallow him deeper, your nose burying into his pubic hair, the heat of his skin enveloping your face. 

You let your teeth graze slightly against him, and Travis lets out a sharp, ragged curse, his hips thrusting heavily against your mouth, forcing himself deep into your throat until you gagged softly.

"Fuck, sorry, sorry," he pants, though his grip on your hair doesn’t slacken. He looks down at your face, your eyes watering slightly from the depth of his cock in your throat, your lips glistening with his spit. 

The sight completely breaks his remaining restraint.

He pulls away from your mouth with a wet, sticky pop. 

Before you can even stand up, Travis grabs you under your armpits, moving your body off the floor with effortless, terrifying strength. He spins you around, slamming your front flat against the bookshelf.

"Lean down." he orders roughly, his voice trembling with an overwhelming urge to possess you.

You place your hands flat against the wooden shelves, knocking a small stack of paperbacks to the floor as you bent over, pushing your hips back towards him. You feel his large, rough hands grab the hem of your jeans and underwear, sliding them down past your thighs in one violent, impatient motion. The cool air of the library hits your bare ass, but a second later, the intense, radiating heat of Travis’s body presses flat against your back.

He reaches down between your legs, his thick fingers finding your dripping, soaked folds. He spreads your own slick juices all over your clit and down across his aching, throbbing cock. 

You whimper loudly, your fingers digging into the wood of the shelf until your nails click against the varnish.

"You’re so fucking wet for me," Travis whispers in your ear, his teeth sinking into the sensitive meat of your neck, biting down hard enough to leave a mark. "Tell me what you want."

"Please, fuck me. Put it in." you cry out, your voice echoing softly in the dark, empty aisles. 

"I’m going to ruin you right here," he growls.

He guides the thick, pulsing head of his cock against your soaking wet entrance and with one brutal, heavy thrust of his hips, he buries himself completely inside you.

The size of him stretches you wide, filling you so well that a loud, high-pitched scream left your throat. Travis immediately slams his large hand over your mouth, muffling the sound as he pins your upper body down against the shelf.

"Shh... quiet, baby. Remember where we are," he whispers, a wicked smirk in his voice, even as his breath hitches from the tight, crushing warmth of your pussy gripping his lenght. "God, you’re so tight."

He begins to move, pulling nearly all the way out until only the tip remains, before slamming back into you with a heavy, wet thud.

The raw, explicit sound of his thighs hitting against your bare ass cheeks echoes loudly through the classic novels section. He doesn’t pace himself. He fucks you with a feral, frantic speed, his heavy body battering against yours over and over again.

Every single thrust pushes you forward against the shelf, the books shifting and scraping against the wood. You bite down hard on his palm to keep from screaming out as his cock hits your cervix repeatedly, sending waves of intense, hot pleasure straight to your core. 

The friction is incredible, the heat building between your legs until it feels like you are going to combust.

"Look at how you’re taking it," Travis pants, removing his hand from your mouth to grip your waist, his thumbs digging into your hips to hold you steady while he absolutely hammers himself into you from behind. "Look at what a good little slut you are for the ex-con. You love this dirty shit, don’t you?"

"Oh God, Travis." you sob out, no longer caring if anyone hears you. Your head rolls on your shoulders, your vision blurring with tears of pure pleasure. You arch your back, tilting your pelvis up to give him deeper access, your wet walls clamping down around his thick dick with every single stroke.

"Fuck, you’re squeezing me so hard," Travis groans, his pace becoming completely erratic, harder and faster, his breath coming in short, desperate gasps. 

He grabs your hips, turning you around easily. You quickly wrap one leg around his hips, and your arms around his neck, not wanting to be apart from him a second longer.

He grabs under your leg, keeping you in place as he slides inside you again.

Your moans and uneven breaths mix together as your faces get closer. He kisses you messily while his hips trust against you in an uncoordinated rhythm now.

 "I’m so close. I’m gonna come inside you. I’m gonna fill you up right in the middle of this fucking library."

The announcement, delivered in his rough, vulgar tone, triggers something deep inside you. Your internal muscles contract violently as a massive, shattering orgasm rips through your body. You shake all over, your hands losing their grip on his neck as your head falls back, your throat letting out a strangled, breathless cry of release. He wraps his arm around to help you to keep your balance.

Feeling your pussy pulsing violently around his cock, Travis lets out a loud, feral roar. 

He delivers three more brutal, bottoming-out thrusts, burying himself as deeply as physically possible inside you, and freezes. His entire body locks up, his muscles turning rock-hard against you as he shoots his thick, heavy torrent of hot semen deep into your womb. He holds himself deep inside you, his hips twitching as he pumps load after load into your pulsing body, groaning loudly against the back of your neck.

For several long seconds, the only sound in the library is the ragged, heavy breathing of the two of you.

Slowly, Travis pulls his cock out of you with a soft, wet sound. A mixture of his cream and your own juices immediately begin to drip down the inside of your thigh. Your legs are shaking so badly you can barely stand, but Travis’s strong arms are right there, catching you and pulling you flush against his chest.

He looks at you, and his fingers brush your hair behind your ear.

You both chuckle nervously and you bite your lower lip.

 He opens his mouth to say something, when the front door bell chimes.

“Hello?” the voice of a young guy sounds through the walls of the library. 

Panic hits both of you at the exact same time. In a single second, you go from pure ecstasy to a desperate race against the clock. 

Between muffled whispers and hushed curses, you both start dressing at lightning speed behind the very last bookshelf. Travis yanks up his boxers and the heavy trousers of his uniform in one violent tug, while you frantically adjust and smooth out your own clothes, praying to God that you don’t look completely wrecked. 

You quickly wipe your mouth with the back of your hand to clear away any trace and take a deep, shaky breath, desperately trying to piece back your professional composure.

"Yes, I’m coming!" you call out, your voice a little higher than usual, as you step out of the dark aisle and into the bright light of the main counter.

Waiting there is a young college student with a heavy backpack slung over his shoulder and a face that looks like he hasn’t slept in three days. He’s holding a crumpled piece of paper with the name of an economics manual. 

With your hands still trembling slightly from the adrenaline, you smile at him as if absolutely nothing happened, look up the book in the system, and guide him to the correct section.

As you are handing the book to the student and checking it out, heavy, familiar footsteps announce Travis walking out from the back of the library. He already has his jacket zipped up and his hair lazily thrown into place with his fingers, but the expression on his face is one of pure satisfaction.

He walks slowly toward the exit, passing right by the front desk. He stops for a brief second, leaning his broad frame against the wooden counter, and locks his dark, deeply amused eyes onto yours. The college student doesn’t notice a thing, far too focused on shoving the heavy textbook into his backpack.

Travis leans in just a fraction closer, winking at you with a broad, lazy grin, and whispers in a tone meant only for you:

"Thanks for the date. See you tomorrow at the non-date."

You roll your eyes dramatically, pretending to be thoroughly annoyed while your cheeks burn a bright, furious crimson. 

But as you watch him push open the heavy glass door and disappear into the cool night air, you can’t stop a smile from breaking across your lips.

⭑ para juani juanita juana⭑

⋆⭒˚.⋆ likes, reblogs and comments are appreciated !! thank you for reading. ⋆⭒˚.⋆

2008, when the days felt long and the nights held so much potential. Phones didn't do much, but everyone had them and social media was a revolution, begging the questions: Who exactly are you? Tell us in this many characters or less. Tell us in glittery graphics and customized layouts, perfectly curated playlists, and add a grainy profile picture less than 200 pixels in width.

•••

You were seventeen, riding the bus home from school one afternoon. You sat alone and had one of the longest rides of any of the other kids, so typically you stuck your headphones in your ears and tuned everything out for those 45 minutes. This particular afternoon as you settled your forehead against the warm glass of the window, you felt the seat dip and a tap on your shoulder. Though the bus didn't technically have assigned seats, everyone and their mother knew that the bus had assigned seats. When your eyes snapped open in annoyance and aggravation, there he was.

Travis had thick, wavy, brown hair that flopped over his forehead and had to be constantly swept to the side with a practiced flick of the neck just to keep it out of his eyes. Eyes that were wide and sparkly, a warm, chocolatey color in shadows and low-light, but when the sun hit just right they lit up with a springy wash of green. His smile was crooked, and positively dazzling.

"Hey, I think we just moved down near you. It's a long ride, didn't bring my MP3 with me. Mind if I listen to yours with ya?"

He smelled like multiple layers of Axe body spray, chocolatey amber, a hint of cigarette smoke, and when he spoke you detected the aroma of Monster energy drink and mint-mojito chewing gum on his breath.

You blinked a few times, exhaled deeply through your nose, then reluctantly handed him an earbud and frantically swirled your thumb on the click wheel of your iPod to find something worth sharing. Your playlists were meticulously curated masterpieces that you were immensely proud of, and the next song you chose would be his very definition of you for all time.

You chose "That's What You Get" by Paramore. That'll show him you're not to be fucked with, you thought. He bobs his head along with the melody and when it's done he looks at you with bright eyes.

"I like that chick, what's this band called?"

"You don't know Paramore?"

"Para-ntly not."

You rolled your eyes at his attempt at a joke, but it made you smile regardless. You spent the next 40 minutes of your ride showing him your favorite bands and songs and by the end of the ride you were both talking more than actually listening. When it was his stop he shyly pulled the earbud away and handed it back to you.

"I'll sit with you again tomorrow, if that's alright?"

You nod and feel the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Cool. Later, Travis."

•••

One night at the skate park he nailed an invert, a trick he'd been working on for weeks. You were both so caught up in the excitement of the achievement, and before you knew it he was grabbing you around your waist and swinging you in a circle. Your feet touched back down to the ground, but it felt like you were floating when you were being held so close by him.

Then he kissed you. It was a little awkward, tentative, but neither of you knew any better or even cared. The minty lime of his favorite gum tingled on your tongue and when he pulled away it's like you were on another planet.

"Woah." He chuckled, wearing that crooked smile you loved so much.

•••

At 2 AM during the summer he tapped on your window and texted your phone:

cum outside :]

You shoved some pillows and blankets into a "you" shaped lump on the mattress and snuck out as quietly as you could. Travis laced his fingers with yours and you strolled slowly to the what everyone called the "big park" -- the one with the walking trail, the monkey bars, and the volleyball pits, situated between the railroad tracks and the baseball field. You sat side by side on the swings, twisting and swaying while talking and looking at the stars.

You mused about all the big things you were going to do when you got the fuck out of Kansas, and to your delight Travis' visions included you. You'd both get a dog, maybe a husky or a chocolate lab, and name him Howdy. You'd travel the country in an RV, never settling down anywhere for too long so you could see everything the world had to offer. It was perfect.

He said his friends gave him a joint. You shrugged and smoked it with him, but you weren't impressed. It had just made you hungry and worrisome. Travis, on the other hand, was a big fan.

It pushed him to hang out more and more with the friends that would supply him with the weed he desired, and then slowly and painfully he stopped tapping at your window. Texts left unreturned, heart left broken in two.

One afternoon while swinging into the Quik-N-Go for a pop, you saw him leaned against the brick with four other guys you vaguely knew.

"Hey... Travis." You muttered. Everyone's attention snapped to you. Travis looked like he'd seen a ghost.

"Oh, hey you! How's it going?"

"Friend of yours, Teacake?"

You wrinkle your nose at the boy's words.

"Teacake? Is that...you?"

He smiles, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Shit, yeah. The guys thought it was funny, I dunno. Since I get the little Tea Cakes all the time."

You nod, wide-eyed. "Sure. Guess I've seen you eat one once or twice. Didn't know you liked em that much."

"Well, maybe you just don't know our Teacake well as ya thought." One of the boys sneers, throwing his arm around Travis' shoulder.

He smiles at his friend, but it's tight-lipped, polite. His eyes worriedly search your face, but you've already pulled away.

"Yeah. Guess not. Lemme know when I can talk to Travis again. Later, Teacake."

You turn on your heel and walk away to a cacophony of "ooh's" and cruel, cackling laughter. For once, Travis didn't follow their lead, as he watched you walk back home alone.