Page 44 of The C*ck Down the Block

She grinned at me, kissed me one more time before she flew out the door, and I heard her race down the stairs and slam the front door.

Jesus, she’d gone from dead asleep to out the door in less than five minutes. Here I was, still in her bed. Which I liked. I’d stay awhile. Maybe jack-off thinking of everything we’d done last night.

My jeans buzzed from the floor, and I reluctantly rolled out of bed and grabbed them. There was a message from Trixie asking me to feed Luke and the girls. And another one from Everett.

You might want to close the windows the next time you fuck your new girlfriend’s brains out.

MONSTER ROMANCE?

TRIXIE

It took all I had in me not to call Lulu the moment I had a free second at work. But this convo was NSFW, and I didn’t need somebody reporting me for having inappropriate conversations in the teen section of the library. But I played out what I was going to say to her about a hundred and seventeen times in my mind before lunch.

In zero of those scenarios was I calm, collected, or cool about it. In fact, maybe I was having a heart attack? No matter how many times I wiped it away, a bead of sweat kept forming at my hairline right near my temple.

I had sex with Chris. Well, oral sex. With Chris. Sex. With. Chris.

“Ms. Moore, are you doing okay? We can come back later if you’re not feeling well.” A mom wearing a shirt that said The book was better and her teenage daughter were standing at my desk. How long had they been there?

“Oh, I’m fine.” I pulled myself together and put professional Trixie in the game. “Not enough kick in my coffee this morning. How can I help?”

“We have an appointment with you to work on Zenia’s college applications.”

“Right, good. Let’s see what we can do.” This was the perfect distraction. If I hadn’t become a librarian, I might have become a guidance counselor. I loved helping teens pick out schools and do their essays. My favorite was once they got in and we perused the class list, making strategies for what they’d take and when.

“Where are you applying, Zen?” Four years ago, when I’d first gotten the teen librarian position at the North branch of the Thornminster Library system, Zenia had hated reading and was failing a lot of her classes. She’d thought she was dumb, and that broke my heart. But her Freshmen English teacher, Mrs. O’Hare, had figured out that Zen was dyslexic and had done something about it when no one else had.

I loved Mrs. O’Hare. She spent about as much time perusing the YA section as a lot of my teen patrons, and we talked books and which ones would be great for her different students all the time. Plus, by night she was a romance writer. But that was a secret and I’d never tell. As long as she kept writing and telling me all the hot goss going on in Romancelandia.

I was such a dork for gossipy stuff. As long as it wasn’t about me. I wanted to know a hundred and ten percent of the drama but didn’t want to be involved in any of it. I’d just be over here, drinking my tea.

Zenia smiled like I’d asked her which kind of ice cream she wanted. “I want to go to Denver Sex. I know it’s a big one, and it’s hard to get in.”

“Wait, where?” A big, hard... oh Lord, what was wrong with me?

Zenia’s face fell a little bit, and I kicked myself for making her doubt. “Denver State? I’m taking two AP classes this year, so I think I have a shot. You don’t?”

I put my hand on hers and gave her my most sincere smile. “You have a great shot, Zen. My brain literally misheard what you said, and it took me a minute to process. Sorry about that.”

“What did you hear?” She gave me too-knowing side eye.

Teenagers couldn’t tell when you’d recently gotten laid, could they? “Never mind. Now, let’s look through the requirements and figure out what you want to write your essay about.”

“Oh, I know what I want to write.” She glanced up at her mother who gave her a smile and a nod. “About how books and reading saved my life.”

Oh my god. I was going to cry. I had to blink a couple of times to make sure nothing leaked out of my eyes. “That’s awesome. I’m sure the admissions people will love it.”

With her grades, she was a shoe in anyway. I could hardly wait to tell Mrs. O’Hare what Zenia said.

Zenia’s mother added to my emerging emotional outburst by saying, “You and Mrs. O’Hare and the library changed both of us. I didn’t do great in school, and I wanted better for Zenny, but had no idea how to help her. But now, we buddy read books, and I have a whole BookFlop following.”

“Yeah, but she only talks about her spicy books on there.” Zenia rolled her eyes, but it was easy to see she thought it was cool but could never admit to it as a card-carrying member of the teenage girl club.

This. This was why I loved what I did.

We spent the next forty-five minutes going through the application, and I promised Zenia I would proofread her essay when she was done. I also promised to lend her mother the latest Molly O. book, of which I happened to have an advanced copy.

I texted Lu once I was finished with the appointment and my other morning tasks.

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