Page 51 of Checking Out the Librarian

He yanked open the dishwasher door.

“With me.” That was the satisfied-sounding voice of a man who had eaten three pieces of brioche French toast, a fried egg, and Jonathan’s cock.

And he wanted to take Jonathan to a concert in a park and it would be endurable. Maybe even enjoyable. Maybe.

“Yes! With you, Connor.” He aligned the plates with the others in the lower rack.

A fucking picnic.

Normally, Jonathan was happy when his Thursday shift overlapped for half of the day with Lily’s morning schedule, but today it was a less-than-optimal situation.

He wasn’t precisely late to work, in fact, he wasn’t at all late to work, but his time at home to change out of yesterday’s clothes might best have been described as a pilot doing touch-and-go landing practice.

“You look less shiny than usual and simultaneously tired, as if you didn’t have time for your skincare. But you also look sort of smug with a strong je ne sais quoi vibe. Like very, very je ne sais and like you enjoyed a really big, juicy piece of quoi.”

“Your French is nonexistent and makes no sense. You make no sense.” He smoothed the cashmere in the cardigan draped over his chair. It was soft. If he wore it Saturday night, Connor might like to touch it.

“Stop petting your emotional support cardigan. It’s a librarian cliché. You have to give me the dish.”

“But your lack of making sense makes my brain hurt too much to talk.” He dropped into his desk chair and spun it in a half-circle, the better to avoid meeting Lily’s gaze.

“Wait! I just realized!” She gave a theatrical gasp, and he didn’t have to spin back facing her to know she would have fake big eyes and an open circle mouth. “You’re not wearing black! Not one single item!”

“That’s some big clue? I switched to my summer palette and you suddenly think what?” He liked teasing his friend far too much.

She was going to flip out when she saw the contents of the plastic container Connor had given him.

“Listen, Jonathan. I will mess you up if you don’t tell me what happened after you left. Suddenly my gay best friend has quit our buddy comedy to star in a rom-com and left me in a one-woman-show I did not audition for. I have no life outside of these walls. I need to believe someone, somewhere, is getting something.”

“Then I suggest you read more of those magazines from the box you’re hiding under your desk.” He bent to open the flap of his messenger bag, stowed on the floor under his own desk.

“You are quite literally the cruelest man I’ve ever met, and I’ve met some wonder-workers.”

“I do not think that word means what you think it means.”

Lily was wrapped up in her wheedling and didn’t see that he’d pulled a repurposed plastic gelato container out of his bag.

“C-R-U-E-L. Look it up in the dictionary. You’ll see your face, Jonathan.”

“I meant the word literally. Please, don’t abuse me with your figurative shit.”

They stared at each other, then burst out laughing.

“Tell me what I need to know.”

“Connor gave me these to bring to work. Is that something you need to know?” Jonathan held out the container of chocolate chunk oatmeal cranberry cookies. “He said they’re for that low energy part of the day, but I think this is an emergency.”

Lily sprung for him. “Cookies? He gave you cookies?”

“Oh my god, you’re like one of those alien face-huggers popping out of a vent shaft. Get back!” He waved the container, and watched her head turn to follow it.

“He gave you homemade cookies?”

“Oh, honey, he gave me a lot more than cookies.”

While it had been Jonathan doing the giving and Connor the receiving pretty consistently, that was definitely too much information for Lily.

“He made French toast this morning.”