10. Savion

TEN

SAVION

The library is one of the places where I can clear my head—the soft shuffle of pages turning and the occasional muffled cough are usually just background noise, barely registering in my consciousness. A few blocks away from work, but far enough to feel like a retreat, I'm glad for the reprieve.

After pulling out a book on fossils from one of the shelves, I settle into my usual spot near the back. I flip a page; it's supposed to be calming—something familiar, something that makes sense. But the words blur on the pages. Instead of ancient bones, Declan's face drifts to the surface of my mind. His eyes closed. The way his fingers moved over the strings of his guitar, so effortlessly, like the instrument was an extension of him.

He was completely in his element, lost in the music. I wasn't just watching him; I was caught up in him. There was something about the way he moved, how his energy filled the room.

I rub my temples, annoyed with myself. Why can't I shake this feeling?

I turn another page. Fossils. Jurassic period. None of it sticks. That jam session last night was just... different. The way Declan's presence filled the room, how he could shift the whole vibe just by playing a single note. It was like something clicked inside me, something I can't explain. I'd told myself it was just admiration—respect for his talent, because even though I'm not a musician, I know talent when I see it. Hell, I've admired people before. This isn't that.

Somewhere between watching his fingers strum the guitar and the way he grinned at me afterward, something stirred deep inside me. Something unexpected.

Shifting uncomfortably in my seat, I can't shake the memory of how my body responded—an unexpected, undeniable heat in my groin that I couldn't ignore. It was a reaction I'd experienced before, but was it because of Declan? It couldn't be, right? With women, sure, but I've never felt like that with a man.

I flip a couple more pages of the book, but my mind is still not focusing on the print. Why did my body react the way that it did? Maybe it was just the adrenaline from hearing live music. Or maybe it's because I was around people that I feel somewhat comfortable with? Perhaps it's been too long since I've been with anyone, and my body's just... confused. Or desperate. My ex was the last person I had sex with. Hell, she's the only person I've ever fucked, and that's been years now.

Maybe I just need to sink into the soft warmth of a woman's body. Maybe I just need to put myself out there again, find someone who doesn't mind the scars or the baggage.

It's been years since I've felt desirable, loved. Apart from Kells—and my best friend doesn't count—no one has paid attention to me, listened to me, talked to me like Declan. That's probably why my body, my head is short-circuiting. Seems like it can't figure out the difference between feelings of friendship and desire.

It took all my willpower last night to maintain my composure, to push the sensation aside and act as if my body wasn't behaving out of character. When the session ended, I was eager to leave, grateful to see old Betsy waiting for me. She doesn't get much road time these days—walking or taking the train usually feels more like me. Maybe it's the paleontologist in me, but I can't help thinking about the bigger picture, about the damage we're doing to the planet. Keeping her off the streets most days is my small way of doing something about it.

Yeah, I know I'm digressing, but it's only because there has to be another explanation for my reaction to Declan. There has to be. I just don't know what it is yet.

But even as I try to rationalize it, I know it's a lie. It wasn't just some random reaction. It was Declan. I can't stop thinking about him—about his hands, his smile, the intensity in his eyes when he looked at me. I rub my temples, trying to shake the thought, but it's like he's burned into my mind.

My brain keeps looping back, replaying the night in my head. Declan, lit up on stage. The buzz in the air. I keep questioning myself—was he feeling something too? Or is it all just in my head?

Before I can spiral any further, my phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance at the screen—Declan.

My pulse skips.

Dash: Hey, where are you hiding?

A small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. I roll my eyes, but my heart's doing this weird flutter thing. Ridiculous.

Me: Library. What's up?

I sit back, waiting for his reply. It comes quickly.

Dash: Just finished practice. Studying fossils again?

I huff out a laugh, shaking my head.

Me: You say that like it's a bad thing. What's wrong with fossils? *smiling face emoji*

His response is almost instant.

Dash: Nothing. Just figured you'd be looking up something cooler… like, I don't know, rockstars? *laughing emoji*

I bite back a grin. My fingers hover over the keypad before I fire back.

Me: No, but maybe I'll find a magazine with your band on the cover.

There's a beat of silence. I lean forward, glancing around the library. The soft hum of the air conditioning, the smell of old books—it should calm me down. But something about this conversation with Declan feels different. More alive. There's an edge, but I can't quite put my finger on it.

When his next reply doesn't come, I frown, feeling the disappointment creep in. I shrug it off, shoving the phone into my pocket. Why does it even matter?

"Ugh, get a grip." The words are barely out of my mouth before I hear a sharp voice.

"Excuse me?" The librarian appears out of nowhere, glaring at me over the top of her glasses. She clutches a stack of books to her chest like a shield. "Please keep your voice down."

Caught by the library police—just what I need right now. "Sorry," I whisper, heat rising to my cheeks.

"Thank you." She gives me a curt nod and walks away, her heels clicking softly on the linoleum floor.

My phone vibrates again. It's Declan.

Dash: Still there?

Me: Got busted for talking too loud.

I admit it, hoping he'll find humor in my embarrassment.

Dash: Haha! You rebel, you.

His teasing lifts my spirits, and I chuckle, earning another disapproving look from the librarian.

I begin typing.

Me: Better keep it down. I don't want to get kicked out.

Shoving the phone back into my pocket, I force myself to focus on the intricate illustrations of ancient creatures, their fossils embedded in layers of sediment. But even the mysteries of prehistoric life can't keep Declan from invading my thoughts. His laughter echoes in my ears, the curve of his smile burned into my mind.

Closing the book with a sigh, I decide I should return it to the shelf when I sense someone approaching. Before I even look up, I know who it is. I can feel him.

Declan's heading toward me, his presence somehow larger than life even in the hushed library. He's dressed casually but with a deliberate edge—black leather jacket over a graphic tee, jeans that hug his legs just right, and scuffed-up boots that look like they've seen a thousand stages. The jacket's collar is turned up slightly, giving him an air of effortless cool, and his dark hair is tousled in that deliberate, messy style that makes him look both relaxed and put-together. The thin silver chain around his neck catches the light as he moves, adding a subtle sparkle that feels out of place in the library's muted atmosphere.

His gaze is warm, and when he smiles, it's like the whole room brightens up. The contrast between his edgy outfit and the quiet library is jarring, intriguing. He's a rockstar, but he's blending in, trying not to stand out—at least, not too much. Yet, here he is, and the sight of him makes my pulse quicken.

I try to focus on his eyes, but I keep getting distracted by the way his leather jacket fits him, how his jeans mold to his frame, and the way his boots thud softly against the wooden floor. It's a look that screams confidence, yet there's something about the way he stands there that feels unassuming, almost shy. It's like he's trying to keep his rockstar persona under wraps while still being undeniably himself.

"Surprised?" Declan raises an eyebrow, his easy smile never faltering.

"Yeah, I—uh, wasn't expecting you," I manage, tightening my grip on the book.

He gestures to the chair across from me."May I?"

"Sure."

"Good. I wanted to surprise you."

"You're big on surprises now?"

"Only for people worth surprising." He smirks, leaning back like he owns the place.

There's a strange warmth spreading through me, and I don't know what to do with it. We saw each other less than twenty-four hours ago, so why does it feel good to have him here? It's a new kind of awareness, and it's disorienting.

Declan leans forward, resting his arms on the table, his presence filling the space between us. "You ever check out the music section here?"

"Nah." Meeting his gaze, I struggle to ignore how close he is.

He laughs, low and warm, and something about the sound makes my chest tighten again. What's wrong with me?

Shoving his chair back, Declan stands with an easy grin. "Come on, let's go check out some books."

For a second, I hesitate, my hand gripping the spine of the book I was reading. But then, wordlessly, I follow him. There's something almost magnetic about the way he moves, like he's pulling me along without even trying.

We head down the nonfiction aisle, and I feel his presence at my side—strong, unwavering. The space between us seems to shrink with every step. My thoughts are a chaotic swirl, unable to settle. I can feel my pulse in my ears, the sound of it drowning out the usual library hum.

Declan stops in front of a section on music history, casually scanning the spines of the books. "This is what I was telling you about," he says, running a finger over the titles. "They've got a pretty decent collection for a small place."

I nod, but I'm not really paying attention to the books. My mind is stuck on how close we are, how the subtle scent of leather and something else—cologne, maybe—seems to wrap around me. I swallow, trying to keep my composure, but there's a tension building in my chest that I can't explain.

We're both standing there, side by side. Our hands reach for the same book, mine getting to it first, and the brief touch of his fingers against mine sends a shock of electricity through me. My hand jerks back, holding the book, and I suck in a sharp breath, the sensation of his skin still lingering on mine. My heart stutters, pounding so loud I'm sure he can hear it.

He freezes too, his eyes flicking to mine in a split second of surprise. For a moment, neither of us moves. The air between us thickens, the quiet of the library suddenly suffocating. I feel heat rising up my neck, a flush that I can't control, and I can't seem to pull my gaze away from his.

Declan doesn't say anything, but there's something in the way he looks at me—something searching, as if he's waiting for me to do something, to say something. His shoulder brushes mine, just barely, but it's enough to send my senses into overdrive. My breath hitches again, and I can't ignore the warmth radiating off him.

What is happening to me?

My mind spins. This isn't supposed to happen. Not with him. Not with any guy. My body is reacting in ways I don't understand—ways that terrify me. I feel like I'm teetering on the edge of something huge, something that could change everything. But I'm not ready for it. I can't be.

I grip the nearest shelf for support, my fingers digging into the wood. Breathe, I tell myself. Just breathe.

But it's hard when he's standing so close. Too close. His presence presses against me, and for a moment, it feels like the entire world has narrowed down to this one aisle, this one moment. I try to remind myself where I am—a public library, for God's sake—but it doesn't help. Nothing makes sense right now.

I sneak a glance at him. His lips are slightly parted, his gaze heavy with something I can't name. There's a pull between us, something that goes beyond the physical. It's as if the air between us is alive, buzzing with an unspoken question.

And I don't know the answer.

The silence stretches on, thick and charged. I feel like I should move, say something to break the tension, but I can't. My body is frozen, caught between wanting to step back and the inexplicable urge to move closer.

Declan's gaze drops to my lips, and my heart slams against my ribs. I swear the world slows down for a beat. My pulse is erratic, my breathing shallow, and my mind races with a thousand thoughts I can't organize. All I can feel is the intensity of the moment—like a live wire buzzing just under my skin.

For a second, I'm not in control of my own body, not even my own thoughts. All I can think about is how close we are, how every shallow breath I take seems to match his, pulling us in sync. There's a tension in the air so thick it feels like I'm drowning in it, like the world outside this library aisle has faded into nothing.

I can see everything in him—how his brows pull together just slightly, how his lips part as if he's about to say something but doesn't. His eyes, normally sharp and unreadable, are soft now, searching mine. He's looking for something. I don't know what. And for the life of me, I don't know if I'm ready to figure it out.

A soft exhale escapes from me, barely louder than a whisper, but I know he hears it. The awareness between us shifts, becoming something dangerous, something real.

My brain screams at me to retreat, to put miles between us before we cross a line that can't be uncrossed. But my body... my body isn't listening.

I inch closer until our lips tentatively brush together—a feather-light touch that sends shockwaves through me. It's hesitant at first—unsure—but then Declan deepens the kiss and I'm lost in the sensation. His tongue explores mine with an intensity that leaves me breathless.

An unfamiliar hardness presses against the front of my pants—my own arousal—and I stiffen in surprise. This is new territory for me; this stirring excitement brought on by another man's touch. But as Declan continues to kiss me—passionate and unyielding—I find myself surrendering to the raw desire coursing through me.

The world outside ceases to exist—all there is now is Declan and this electrifying connection between us. My mind still shouts warnings at me but they're drowned out by the thunderous beating of my heart and the intoxicating taste of Declan on my lips.

A rush of heat rises up my neck, and I struggle to maintain control. My grip on the book tightens, my fingers digging into the hard edges. This isn't what I expected. Not from him, not from anyone. I'm not ready for this.

His presence fills every inch of space between us, and for a second, I swear I can feel him leaning in—just slightly. The air between us feels heavy, thick with things unsaid, and my heart stutters in my chest. He's too close. I'm too close. This is too much.

In a sudden, panicked reaction, I pull back. The book slips from my hands and falls to the floor with a soft thud. "I—I can't... I'm not—" My words falter, coming out in a disjointed mess. My mind is a whirlwind of panic, guilt, and confusion that cuts deep, leaving me unable to articulate what's happening inside me.

Declan's expression mirrors my own, the shock clear in his eyes. There's something else there too—something that looks a lot like disappointment. He takes a step back, almost like I've pushed him away. His throat bobs as he swallows, eyes dropping as he rubs the back of his neck. "Sorry... I don't know what that was," he mutters, voice rough and low, like the words are struggling to come out.

They hang in the air, thick with unspoken meaning. I feel a pang of guilt, mixed with fear and something else I can't quite grasp. It's like my whole sense of self has been shaken, leaving me questioning everything I thought I knew about myself.

"It's okay. I don't either." I force out the words, though my heart is still racing, and my hands are trembling slightly. The confusion is overwhelming, and I'm desperate to find a way to make sense of what just happened.

My mind is a jumble of thoughts, each one colliding with the next in a chaotic mess. I step back, needing to create space between us. This can't be happening. I'm straight. We can't... do this. My internal dialogue is frantic, and all I want is to escape before I say or do something I might regret.

Declan looks equally unsettled, his eyes following me with an expression that mixes concern and confusion. I grab my bag, my movements hurried and unsteady. "I'll see you later," I mumble, my voice barely audible. I don't look at him as I make my way towards the exit. The weight of his gaze on my back makes my skin prickle, but I don't turn around.

Jumping away from him, I grab my bag off the floor and muttering something incoherent under my breath. I need space, air—to get out of here.

My legs are moving before I can fully process the moment. I skip the elevator and head straight for the stairwell, taking the steps two at a time. Each footfall echoes through the quiet library, matching the rapid beat of my pulse. What the hell just happened? The question swirls in my mind, repeating itself over and over.

I shove the door open at the bottom of the stairs and push through the library's main entrance. The evening air hits me like a shock to the system—cool, crisp, a complete contrast to the stifling heat inside my chest. My heart's still racing, pounding against my ribcage like it's trying to break free. I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself, but it barely helps.

Why did I freeze? Why did he look at me like that? Nothing makes sense, and the worst part is, I don't know if I even want it to.

My feet carry me away from the library, but I'm not paying attention to where I'm going. The world outside is a blur, the usual sounds of the city muted by the roar in my head. Everything that just happened feels wrong, but at the same time... everything that just happened seems right.