Eventually when the evening got late, he told them he was done, as he still hadn’t really recovered from the previous night’s stupidity. The nausea and pain had gone, but his body cried out for a decent rest, and he could only imagine how haggard he must look, with little sleep and mild dehydration, on his already pastel face. As he brushed his teeth, he saw he had been right in his assumption; the pouches beneath his eyes were dark with sleeplessness and his skin looked like chalk. Lord, he looked like a vampire had drained him. Feeling self-conscious, he pulled his hood up before leaving the bathroom, so that the others wouldn’t see him as he scampered to his bedroom.

The next morning brought with it soft butterflies in his stomach. He woke to find another text from Jazz, asking for a place in the library where he could find him. Christian thought quickly, before suggesting a fairly secluded corner of the library, where the accountancy backlogs were kept. At least they could have some privacy, even if it was technically a public place. He made sure he had put the bracelet back on before he left the apartment.

So it was with a nervous apprehension that he took his lunch break, heading towards the building he loved best on the campus.

Even Laurel thought his adoration of books was weird. But when it came to the familiar smell of books and wood polish...they filled his senses and calmed him like nothing else. The quiet knowledge of books, the feeling like the words were just waiting for him was a panacea. Books had a dual nature; that they could wait forever to be read while at the same time demanding attention. The weight and feel of them in his hands, the roughness or smoothness of paper…it was all beautiful.

One of the main attractions of studying Art History was access to the Rare Books library, which lived in the cellars of the building. Sometimes he had to look through the older manuscripts for research, where huge books were made up of large prints threaded carefully together, with tissue paper between each sheet, some pages so delicate he had to wear gloves before he could touch them. He would spend hours in those brightly lit rooms, with no company but his own, paging unhurriedly through old copperplate prints on foxed pages.

Perhaps that was why he was so nervous about meeting Jazz here; it was a personal haven, and perfect, and bringing him here was almost worse than giving a stranger his number.

He wandered through the accountancy shelves, not remotely interested in their content, but appreciating the leather bound books nonetheless, if only for how pretty they looked. He ran a finger along the spine of one, feeling his skin bump over the gold embossed writing, the smoothness of the un-creased leather an indication that they never got taken out or opened. It was sad in a way, because books were meant to be read.

“Hey there.” A voice said behind him, making him jump.

Christian felt his heart beating hard and smiled weakly at Jazz, feeling slightly flustered. “Hey.”

“Scare you?”

“A bit. I was distracted.”

Jazz sauntered closer, hands in pockets, looking at the books Christian had been touching. “Accountancy?” he said with one thin eyebrow cocked.

Christian laughed, and knew how nervous he sounded. The butterflies were all over the place now.

“I just chose this section because it’s a bit abandoned.” He said, indicating the aisle. “More private.”

Jazz looked at Christian with his full attention now, and a bright look in his eye. “Oh really?”

“Um, yeah. I don’t study it. My major is Art History actually.” Christian babbled, looking away from his gaze.

“Hmm. I like that. It fits.” Jazz replied, standing close, grinning his white-toothed smile.

“It does?”

“Yes. Porcelain boy who studies art. Beautiful thing looking at beautiful things.”

Christian stilled and then laughed, rubbing his neck. “Sorry, I’m so bad at this.”

Jazz titled his head to this side, like he was enjoying the show. “Bad at what?”

“Flirting.” Christian said quietly, with barely any stutter.

Jazz leaned in closer. “You don’t have be good at flirting. You just stand there, and I’ll flirt.”

“That’s pretty much what we’ve been doing anyway.” Christian replied, feeling breathless and really starting to get annoyed with himself.

Get a fucking grip Christian. He thought angrily at himself, but Jazz was standing so close it was like breathing heat from a fire. “Um, so I thought we could try and get to know each other more.”

Jazz leaned casually against a shelf. They were totally alone in this part of the stacks. Christian couldn’t hear anyone browsing near them. “Curious?”

“Of course. Aren’t you curious about me?”

Jazz shook his head and began to come closer again, and Christian realised he had taken a small step back. “To be very honest, I think I know everything I need to know about you, Christian.”

Suddenly, Christian became aware that the atmosphere had changed and he wasn’t sure how. He was still backing away slowly, but Jazz matched him stepped for step, keeping himself close. Christian had to stop when his shoulders met the end of the aisle, and Jazz brought a hand up beside Christian’s head, leaning languidly on the wall and letting his body come close enough to his that Christian could feel the brush of their clothes against each other, and hear the tiny jingle of his bracelets.

The secluded corner didn’t feel like such a good idea anymore. Jazz casually let his left leg rest between Christian’s. And the more Christian tried to say something, the more frantic the butterflies became until they were in his throat.

“But you can ask me things, if you like” he said in a smooth voice.

Christian swallowed and tried to breathe shallowly, so Jazz wouldn’t hear how abruptly anxious he was. “Anything? How old are you?” he managed, saying the first question that came to mind. Jazz gave him an amused look.

“I’m twenty-five.”

“Band name?”

“’Skinned.’”

“Do you go to college here?”

Jazz had been leaning in closer the whole time Christian threw questions at him, his expression never wavering, his eyes now focussed on Christian’s mouth. He smiled at the last question but didn’t answer it.

“I think that’s enough questions for now.” He said before closing the last, minute gap.

Jazz’s kiss was hot and rough, pressing into Christian’s mouth hard. Christian was clumsy and felt his feet skitter and slide beneath him, but Jazz brought his leg up to press against Christian’s groin, making him stay, and Christian heard himself gasp involuntarily. Jazz stopped his mouth for a moment to grin.

“You like that?”

He didn’t give Christian a chance to answer, instead pressing himself even harder against Christian’s body, his mouth more roving than before, his tongue sliding in invasively. When this happened, Christian found himself pushing at Jazz’ shoulders hard. Jazz surprised him by backing away instantly, which meant Christian over-balanced and almost fell forward, catching himself just in time. He lifted his startled eyes to jazz, who was licking is lip and grinning at him with a look of triumph on his handsome face.

Christian felt the butterfly bang away in his chest for a few more seconds before he turned and all but ran away, past the books he loved, to light and space.

-8-

Christian walked blindly, arms shoved deep into his hoodie pockets and breathing hard, whether it was from his pace or the events that had just happened, he didn’t know.

What had started as a sweet, nervous encounter had changed so rapidly it felt like whiplash? Jazz had kissed him. Yes, that had happened. Why did it feel awful? Why did the thought of it make his stomach churn uncomfortably? Because it hadn’t been enjoyable, it hadn’t been sweet. It had been rough and unwelcome, hadn’t it? He hadn’t said no, but he hadn’t said yes. But he hadn’t said no, not even afterwards, when he pushed Jazz away and stared at his self-satisfied smirk. He had just needed to get away.

Without deciding to, he found himself walking back to the apartment. He spared a brief moment of anxiety over the fact that he was missing class, but his mind was too scattered to dwell on it. Without being able to plot how he got there, he was in the door and leaning on it. He tried to focus his attention on the smooth feeling of paint under his hands, and the strange shapes in the knots of wood beneath his feet.

The sick feeling in his stomach didn’t go away. Not even after he went to lie down on his bed and stared at the ceiling for an hour. Not even when he tried to work through his assignments, his mind and hands working like an automaton as he typed. He kept trying to find a way to put his feelings into coherent order, but every time he saw that white-toothed grin, his mind simply slid away, and his heart starting racing uncomfortably. Eventually he stopped trying, because he started to feel dizzy.

He spent the afternoon alone. For once he longed for the distraction of company, and for once it did not come bursting into his home. When the front door finally opened, and he saw Eddie and Brendan walk in mid-discussion, he felt relief pour into his body like warm water. For the first time since the library, he unclenched his jaw and noticed the sudden release of unnoticed tension in his muscles. Brendan glanced at him, then did a double take, stopping his conversation.

“Christian, are you alright?” he asked, stopping mid-step and forcing Eddie to detour around him to the couch.

There was no way he could tell them. He should but he couldn’t, because what could he say? A guy he had been flirting with kissed him? He hadn’t said no? Did he have to say yes? Was that how kisses were supposed to go? He swallowed and looked away.

“Yeah, I’m good. How are you guys?” he said quickly, feigning a smile and looking back at his laptop, then shutting it down and closing his textbooks, which had been a useless diversion anyway.

“Aw, did you miss us?” Eddie replied.

“A bit. Waiting for one of you to save me from my boredom.” He joked.

Brendan still looked at him like he wasn’t sure that Christian was in fact fine, but appeared to shrug it off, in the face of Christian’s claim of boredom.

Eddie moving towards the kitchen, announced; “Well, your wish has been granted. Brendan here has propositioned me.”

Christian looked up, already laughing. God, he was so glad they were here. “That’s bold.”

Brendan frowned at Eddie. “You don’t have to make it sound like I asked you to bed.”

“I know you still think about our kiss.” Eddie teased as he went to open the fridge, bending down slightly to look inside.

“Not really.” Brendan replied tonelessly.

Eddie straightened and sent a pouting look over his shoulder. “Ouch.”

“Anyway, “Brendan went on pointedly. “I did not proposition him. I asked him to help me with my inter-college games day.”

“You’re what?” Christian asked, already settling down against the window sill, where the afternoon sun was warm on his back.

“Yeah. Its off-season for me, but my team have a friendly games day, against a team from Prescott.” He explained. Prescott was the only college within thirty minutes of theirs.

“And I was saying I don’t want to play soccer.” Eddie told him, while rifling through their snacks cupboard. Eventually he found a bag of chips and opened them before collapsing into the bean bag.

“It’s not soccer. Its games. Wheelie chair race, three legged race, that sort of thing.” Brendan told him.

“Why don’t you ask Jordan? He’s a sporty sort, just like you. You’d be adorable. Unstoppable.” Eddie replied. “Or you could ask Christian.”

“No.” Christian said immediately. He didn’t sport.

Brendan pointed to him, “That’s why. I knew he’d say no. And Jordan already said no. Come on Eddie, my original partner broke an ankle, and I have no one else to ask.” He pleaded.

Eddie gave him a bored look. “You’ve just told me I was third choice. Your persuasion skills need work. I am not moved.”

“What can I offer then?” Brendan asked, hands open.

Eddie got a sly look on his face then. “Anything?”

“Anything that doesn’t involve me being naked.” Brendan hedged, looking cautious now.

“You don’t have to be naked to dance.”

Brendan eyebrows went low over his narrowed eyes. (Laurel called it his caveman face.) “Say what?”

“If you want me to sport with you, you have to dance with me. Come to my dance class. It’s on Saturday.”

“The games are on Saturday.”

“Saturday morning. You said your games are in the early evening.”

Brendan leaned back and looked at Eddie calculatingly, while he crunched noisily through chips, patiently waiting for Brendan to give in.

“Fine. Deal.” Brendan said, holding out his hand to shake on it, and Eddie giggled before doing so, chip dust still on his fingers.

“This will be so much fun.”

“I’m not wearing neon spandex.”

Eddie shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what you wear. Come in your jeans if you like.”

Brendan sighed and looked at Christian. “I suppose you’ll be there to witness this.”

“Can I bring a camera?” he replied with a half-smile. He didn’t really want to humiliate Bren, but he enjoyed teasing him. And he was enjoying the banter, it made the skittering, scrambling thoughts of Jazz fade to the background.

“Please don’t.” Brendan implored.

The door opened again, and Laurel came in with Jordan close behind. She dumped her bag on the floor next to the couch and walked on, barely giving them a glance.

“I wonder, when it became normal for me to arrive home to find a group of people already here.” She pondered aloud as she came around behind Eddie and snatched the chip bag from his hands. He uttered a squeak of objection and tried to grab it back but she was too quick and sat down beside Brendan without missing a step. Jordan took a seat by the kitchen table, nodding to Christian in greeting.

“You called us The Menagerie, remember?” Brendan pointed out. “We’re a group now, we officially get to be here.”

“Only because Christian likes you.”

“For which we are endlessly grateful.” Eddie smiled so broadly at Christian that it made his cheeks rise and his eyes close.

“You brought Jordan though.” Brendan pointed out.

“I had to stake my claim on this soil somehow.” Laurel winked at Jordan.

“She planted you like a flag. How does that make you feel?” Eddie directed to Jordan in mock concern, craning his neck so he could look behind him.

“She can plant me wherever she likes.” Jordan replied, leaning back in his chair, legs splayed wide and confident, looking at Laurel like she hung the moon.

“Oh Lord. You’re a lost cause.” Eddie retorted.

“Yup.” He acknowledged and Laurel got up to go and sit on his lap and feed him a chip.

“In other news, Brendan propositioned me.” Eddie spoke loudly, and Brendan groaned.

The conversation ebbed and flowed, as it usually did, until Laurel kicked them all out so she could work. Eddie claimed he had to go anyway, since he was still tweaking the FindMe app, once again reminding them to use it as much as possible so they could give them feedback. Christian thought about following them out, but decided against it.  He couldn’t say why, but being alone felt…wrong.