state of mind - extras
not a chapter or a continuation but here is more ex boyfriends lamen (before they’re even even boyfriends because otherwise, what’s the point?)
The first time Damen sees Laurent, he’s walking out of the library.
They don’t quite bump into each other. Damen is hard to miss, even when he doesn’t pay attention and the other person is immersed in a book. They do rock to a halt barely ten inches away from one another and do the complicated side-stepping dance for a while, until Damen laughs and holds his hands up in the air next to the man’s shoulders to keep him in place.
“There,” he says, stepping around him.
The student blinks at him, one finger slid into his book to mark his page, and doesn’t say anything. Damen smiles one last time, shrugs off the incident and the man as a very attractive what if, and hurries to the library, mind on his essay like any college student.
The next time they meet, it’s also at the library.
Damen is checking one of the books he needs for a history assignment on one of the library’s computers and out of his chair in two seconds flat when he sees that the book is finally, finally in. He’s been waiting for almost two weeks and very seriously considering buying a book on Artesian economics in the fifth century, sole use be damned, if the shipping time hadn’t been nearly as long.
He’s barely stepped into the aisle when he knows something is wrong. There is a person browsing the shelves, even though no one sets foot in this part of the library before eight pm on the last evening before a deadline.
The person turns to look back when they hear Damen approach, and that’s when Damen’s heart picks up the pace. It’s the man from the other day, with the pale blue cardigan and the impeccably white shirt. His blonde hair falls evenly around his shoulders, and he’s gripping Damen’s book.
“That’s my book,” Damen says at the same time the man says a tentative “Hello”.
“No it’s not,” is the immediate answer.
They blink at each other. The blond wipes out his phone, clicks twice on something and shoves it in Damen’s face.
It’s the library’s search engine program, opened on the page for the very book Damen has looked everywhere for. Damen did not even know they had an app.
“See?” the man says. “It’s not reserved.”
“But I need it,” Damen protests.
“So do I. No one checks out Artesian economics: rise and fall of a fortune for fun.”
“I need it for Monday,” Damen insists. “You don’t understand, this book in impossible to find. No one’s issued it for almost two decades—”
“That would be because it’s wildly inaccurate.”
“—need it for an essay that’s fifty per—what?”
The man Damen’s come to think of as his personal nemesis waves the book around. “These theories have all been debunked recently. No one bothers with Makon anymore, Merchant is the one to consult.”
Damen may be an optimist and a believer of human nature’s best, but he’s not a total idiot.
“Then why do you need it?”
“Because a huge part of my essay is about debunking old fools who look at history through modern lenses and apply inaccurate sociopolitical structures to a very precise economical context.”
“Explain,” Damen tries next, because the blond man seems pretty worked up and knowledgeable.
“No,” he says. “I’m not writing your essay for you.”
“This conversation would not even cover a third of what I need,” Damen starts, but he’s interrupted again.
“I know. We have the same prof.”
“What?”
“History 101 with Makedon?”
“Yes,” Damn says, feeling a little blindsided. With his personal history, he would have thought he’d notice someone as beautiful as Laurent in one of his driest lectures.
“Yes,” the man says, and averts his eyes. Is he blushing? The thought is baffling for the two seconds the rest of his words takes to come out. “I noticed you.”
“Really?” Pleased.
This is not dignified by an answer, only more blushing and a quick glance at his wide shoulders. Ah. Damen takes pity on him and changes the subject.
“And who’s that fellow Merchant you were talking about?”
Merchant is two shelves away, a thick volume with a yellow cover, much more recent than Makon’s. Damen’s pretty sure their professor has never said this name in class. He wonders how someone can become so knowledgeable about hundreds-year-old economics in the first place without some kind of external influence.
“Wait,” he calls when he sees the blond turn away. “Uh, what’s your name?”
“Why?”
“Because I’d like to suggest we study together to share the book and it’s awkward without knowing your name,” Damen says smoothly.
Most things feel less awkward when people say them with confidence, he’s noticed. Confidence is key.
“Laurent,” comes the answer.
Damen tries it, tastes it around his mouth. It’s a beautiful, northern. He thinks briefly he wouldn’t mind saying it in the privacy of his bedroom, although maybe not quite alone.
“I’m Damen,” he says.
“I know.”
“Am I that big?”
He was expecting Laurent to blush some more, the pretty red tint on his pale cheeks. Instead, he gets an eyeroll.
“You’re not making your offer very tempting.”
“I’m sorry,” Damen says, genuine. “Uh, will you please let me write my essay with the help of this very dense book you’re holding?”
“I told you it’s useless.”
“Maybe I want to discuss the quality of its information too.”
The eyebrow inches its way far up Laurent’s forehead. “Really?”
“Not really. But the prof mentioned a very useful chronology?”
“I’m over there by the window,” Laurent says as they move back out of the shelves.
“Oh,” Damen nods. “The quiet part.”
“This is a library. Every part is the quiet part.”
The librarian seems to agree: she sends Damen a dirty look when his whisper edges into low voice.
Damen fetches his stuff, still by the computer, since Laurent seems little inclined to move. He settles in front of him at the wide table they don’t have to share with anyone, and he opens Merchant. The book still smells like fresh ink and pressed paper. On his laptop, Damen begins to type.
He gets his best grade of the semester on this paper, and a date with Laurent. It’s a win all around, really.
