Page 14 of Daddy's Muse
Or was he making fun of me?
Did he know Bryan and his friends?
Elijah always felt like a genuinely nice guy, so maybe he was serious? But… why?
I tried to read his expression, but it was maddeningly open—teasing, maybe, but not cruel. There was no mockery in his tone, no smug glance around like he had an audience waiting to laugh at my expense. He was just looking at me with those warm brown eyes, head tilted slightly like he genuinely wanted to know my answer.
“Oh,” I said, my voice a little smaller than I wanted it to be. “Um… maybe. We’ll see.”
He grinned like he’d won something anyway. “That’s not a no.”
I ducked my head, pretending to straighten the edge of my notebook. I didn’t know what to do with that. I’d never really had anyonewantto spend time with me, at least not in a way that felt like this, when I wasn’t just wanted there to be the butt of a joke or a convenient punching bag. I wasn’t sure if Elijah was just being friendly or if there was something more behind it. But either way, it was the first time in a long time I didn’t feel like someone was trying to get something out of me.
The session ended not long after. Elijah thanked me again enthusiastically and gave a little wave as he headed out, calling over his shoulder, “Next time I get a 2.0 z-score, you’re buying the snacks!”
I smiled despite myself, watching him disappear past the circulation desk.
Then the quiet returned, thick and unmoving.
I lingered in my seat, fingers curling against the smooth tabletop. I wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet. I could already hear Bryan’s music thudding through the walls, the crack of a can being opened, the scratch of his too-loud laugh. I knew if I walked through that door right now, I’d find him sprawled across his bed like a king on a throne, acting like I owed him something just for breathing the same air.
So I stayed.
I shifted to a smaller table closer to the stacks, tucking myself into the corner like I used to in high school when I didn’t want to be seen. I pulled out my folder for chemistry tutoring—my next student was a freshman pre-nursing major who was struggling to balance equations and was half terrified of acids. I flipped through the textbook pages and started organizing examples I thought might help her, highlighting formulas and sketching out diagrams in the margins with colored pens. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was something I could control. I also maybe liked how she always complimented my penmanship, how she oohed and aahed at the different colored pens I used.
Callie was perfect, really. If I weren’t gay, I’d definitely want someone just like her as my girlfriend. She was kind and caring, pretty but not prissy, and really smart. Just… not in chemistry.
I had always found some strange comfort in the order of science. Everything had a place. Every bond had a reason, every reaction an equal and opposite cost. You just had to understand the rules, and then you could make sense of it all. Real life didn’t work that way.
My stomach growled, reminding me I’d skipped dinner. I ignored it. I could eat later. I could sleep later. I just needed more time. More quiet. More distance between me and that dorm room, and the person waiting inside it.
I kept working, head down, pretending like nothing outside of my notes existed.
Pretending like I wasn’t lonely. Like I wasn’t scared. Like I hadn’t just been offered the tiniest glimmer of kindness and wasn’t entirely sure what to do with it.
I didn’t realize how late it had gotten until the quiet crackle of the library’s overhead announcement broke through my concentration.
“Attention: the library will be closing in twenty minutes.”
I blinked down at my notes, slightly disoriented. My neck ached from being hunched over for so long, and my hand had started to cramp from all the writing. I’d somehow filled three full pages with reaction pathways, examples, and diagrams.
A small part of me was proud. The rest just felt… tired.
I packed up slowly, not in a hurry to step back into the cold night or the tension waiting for me in that dorm room. I shoved my chemistry folder between the worn covers of my binder and slid it into my backpack, then paused with my hand on the zipper. For a moment, I just sat there, watching dust float through a shaft of light near the window.
When I finally got to my feet and made my way toward the front of the library, the hush of the space pressing in around me felt comforting. There were only a few stragglers left—students slumped over keyboards, a librarian wheeling a cart back toward the shelves.
And then I saw him.
The man from Mae’s! Not the creepy, gross one, but the really hot and nice one!
I froze mid-step, my heart stuttering like I’d missed a beat.
He was standing by the front desk, half in shadow, thumbing through a slim hardback book with a dark cover. Dressed in a long black coat, collar turned up, with his large frame somehow even more striking in the low light. His hair was tied back tonight, loose strands of his ethereal hair framing his face.
He was the kind of handsome that made people stop and take a second look. Tall, broad-shouldered, a little rugged, yet so refined. Like he didn’t quite belong in a place filled with laptops and fluorescent lights.
Standing there quietly flipping through his book, he looked… otherworldly.
