It was my freshman year of college and I was in a lower level Spanish class than I was supposed to be in. Little did I know how much I actually needed to be there. I walked into the building nearly shaking from the nerves. Would I be able to find the room? How hard will the class be? Will I have any friends in that class? To my surprise, I walked in and the room was directly across from the entrance. “Okay, that was easy,” I thought. I checked the time on my phone as I entered the room then slipped it back into my jean pocket. I looked up and immediately locked eyes with a blonde haired guy with sleek silver glasses. His eyes didn’t say much, which struck me as odd that because I was always very good at reading people; I just figured that he was trying to determine if he had seen me in here before. My stomach turned inside out as soon as we locked eyes. I could feel it twisting inside my body, curling itself up into a demented knot that felt as if it could burst at any moment. It was a lovely churning, one that I had only felt for two other men in my life: Chris and Brian. Even though it was probably only seconds, I felt like we had been staring at each other for hours. I can go back to each millisecond and know exactly what I had been thinking. It was one of those rare clarity moments, one that is not easily forgotten. I unlocked my eyes and walked up to the professor, a fairly young man, red hair, thick black rimmed glass, tall and skinny. He was extremely nice and helpful in explaining what I had missed in the recent classes. All the while I could feel Blondie’s eyes on me, I would find out later that his name is Ryan. Not the sort of creepy eyes, not that he was checking me out, but it was though he simply could not turn his head and refocus. I felt drawn to him.

Ryan had a strong jaw and scruffy chin. His 6-foot frame was supported by strong legs that stretched his jeans tight and arms that were meant to hold their own. The small amount of gel in his short sandy blonde hair reflected the florescent light in our classroom. I never thought someone like him would be interested in me. I was tall, about 5’10” with long wavy brown hair. I was a bigger girl, but tried to take pride in my curvy hips and muscular legs. I was still self-conscious about my weight, but my confidence came from my almond shaped grass green eyes and beautiful face that could get me into any bar and out of any ticket and, of course, my 36C bust.

Each class came and went. He and I exchanged glances multiple times a class to comment on other student’s obliviousness about the Spanish language. I would also catch him staring at me every so often. The odd thing that I found was that his eyes never seemed to portray anything but it wasn’t a blank stare he seemed like he was simply looking at me. It never felt like he was trying to get my attention rather he couldn’t look anywhere else. I would smirk at him whenever I caught his eyes and put my head back down to whatever I had been doing.

It was about three weeks into classes when I saw him in the library. Trying to be as nonchalant as possible I chose a seat far enough away from him that it wasn’t obvious that I had seen him and ever so elegantly, slid one of my books off the table to make a loud thud. I had not anticipated how loud the sound would have been on the silent floor of the library, so it came as a surprise to me. It was definitely loud enough that everyone looked at me; I could feel their eyes glaring at me as if I had just woken them up. I didn’t look over at him to see if he had noticed, I simply picked the book up as if it had not just made the loudest thud ever heard in the library. I hadn’t been sure, but I had assumed he noticed it would be hard to not notice. It was my feeble attempt to make my presence known. I got out my ipod then opened my Spanish book and began the homework. About an hour or so later, I felt someone squeeze my shoulder. I slowly turned my head and found Ryan standing to my right, his head tilted down a bit. He whispered, “Basement Bean?” I smiled and nodded my head. He moved away to allow me to get my things together and once I was ready, turned and walked away without even a glance. I followed him. We mazed through all the study cubbies and awkwardly placed couches until we finally got to the stairs. We walked down the stairs silently, him about a step or two in front of me. It seemed like days until we got to the bottom floor (where the Basement Bean is) and still silent walked in. He went straight up and ordered a black coffee. I then placed my order and he walked away to find a table.

I fixed my coffee and began to scan the area for him. I couldn’t see him. So many thoughts ripped through my head. Had I actually imagined that he asked me to come with him? Did I dream this? Was he actually here or did I just walk down here alone? Was it even Ryan? No, it definitely was him. I would know him anywhere. Did I just see him heading towards the door and followed him down here? He’s going to think I’m SUCH a creep! Then, out of the corner of my eye I saw something moving in a pattern, he was standing near the entrance to the library waving. I felt an immediate sigh of relief. Phew, I knew I wasn’t nuts. I headed toward him looking at the ground, then scanning behind me and to the sides, pulled my phone out of my pocket and looked at it and slid it back in. I didn’t want to just stare at him forever while crossing the café floor, I did everything in my power to not look at him and when I finally did look at him for the final two seconds of my journey, I could tell that he knew it. Finally, I could read him. I found something in his expression. I was vulnerable. I could tell that he knew he made me uncomfortable. I felt like he was inside my head: that he felt the lovely flips my stomach made whenever his face popped into my head. It was a very violating feeling, however, I was almost glad that he knew how I felt.

He held the door for me as I exited and I immediately moved to the left to allow him to lead me wherever we were going. I followed him to the absolute back of the library to a stairwell that I didn’t even know existed. We went down another floor. I finally broke the silence. “I thought the Basement Bean was on the bottom floor.” I wondered. “That’s what they want to you think is the bottom floor.” He said and yes, I could hear the purposeful mysterious tone he purveyed. “The school never discards any book. They just put them all down here when they are significantly out of date and basically useless. Good for history papers though.” He was a history major so he would know. We winded through huge rows stuffed with the oldest books I’ve ever seen. I had no clue where we were in association with the stairs or anything really I was just amazed at this treasure. It seemed as if he picked a random aisle to stop and sit down in. I followed. We sat in silence for a moment, both sipping our coffees (mine was pretty much gone so he better start talking). I had gotten no sleep the night before and that had been my third coffee that day. Needless to say, I was more on edge than I would be otherwise. He spoke.

“Don’t you feel this?”

“Feel what?” I asked, even though I knew exactly what he was talking about.

“There is something here we have no control over. When you walk in the room, I cannot look anywhere else. I constantly watch your every move. I can’t help it.”

“I feel the same way. No matter what I do, say, think about, you are always in my head. I don’t even know you, yet there is a, like, magnetic force between us. I am just drawn to you.” I answered hoping that was what he really meant.

“I know this makes you uncomfortable, maybe we shouldn’t bring this up.” He said.

“No, I have been wanting to confront this ever since the first time I saw you.” My coffee cup was empty, so was his. We were sitting across from each other on the floor. He leaned toward me like he was going to try to get up. I didn’t move. He scooted closer to me so that our faces were only about a foot away. He grinned.

“Does this make you nervous?” He asked menacingly.

“Yes. I don’t think I could lie to you. Or at least you wouldn’t believe me if I did.”

“Yeah, that was rhetorical.” He answered smugly. “I can hear your heart nearly breaking through your rib cage from here.” He laughed a little and the looked back at me. He scooted closer. Eight inches. Six. Four. Three. I could feel his breath. It was taking everything in me just to restrain myself. I would have tackled him right then and there. My fingers began to make small grasps at the short fibers of the carpet. I was looking for something to hold me back. One. I could tell he knew this was absolutely torturing me. Our noses were side by side; his brow was on my mine. The only feature of our faces that wasn’t touching was our lips. I imagined what kissing him would be like, almost like finding the missing piece, a connection I had never experienced before. I felt his hand slide under mine palm up. He gripped his fingers around the base of my wrist. We were so close; I wondered why he wouldn’t just kiss me already. Was he waiting for me? Our foreheads connected, I pushed towards him.

He exhaled, our faces still touching, our lips barely. His breath smelled like cinnamon and coffee. I took it in and just as I was savoring how close we were, I felt a shock run through me, all the way from my toes through my lips. He had finally obliterated the distance between us. He kissed me. I treasured every moment. He kissed me softly at first then became more aggressive. The connection was palpable. We both could not get enough of each other. I felt like I was quenching some sort of insane thirst, as if I had lived my life without water and then tasted it for the first time. I was experiencing that refreshing, invigorating, satisfaction that I never had experienced with anyone else. His tongue was warm and soft. I had dreamt of how our lips moving together, but this was far more intense than my imagination could create.

We sat there in the stacks, not even coming up for a breath. When we finally broke our kiss I was light headed and had no idea how much time had passed. He gazed into my eyes, passed a thumb over my red, swollen lips. I wanted him. I ached for him. I couldn’t though, not here, not in the library. What if someone saw us, heard us? I looked for an answer in his eyes.

“No one ever comes down here.” Ryan whispered, his face still only inches from mine. I leaned in and kissed him again, I pulled away.

“Stop, I don’t think you know how bad I want this.” I breathed.

“But I do.” He said huskily. The vibrato in his voice awoke the back of my neck. He put a hand on my back and led me down to the floor. I sat back on my elbows and watched him as he climbed toward me. I could see the hunger in his eyes. He straddled me, sitting on my hips. He placed his hands on my torso and leaned in to kiss me again. Our lips touched and a spark ignited in my belly. His strong chest pressed against mine, my nipples already straining against the padding of my bra. My elbows that were holding us up began to weaken under the circumstances. I slowly lowered us onto the rough carpet. His hands ran through my hair. He broke our kiss and began to kiss my chin, neck, and then he moved to my shoulders, pushing my shirt away, leaving a trail of goose bumps behind him. As I writhed beneath him, I could feel his erection growing through his pants.

He sat up and slid his hands beneath my shirt, looking into my eyes for reassurance. The feeling of his hands on my belly was more than I could handle. Was I actually going to do this? In the library? It was too late; any shred of restraint I had before I walked down here had fled. I sat up, my eyes on his. They flickered down then back to his. I smirked and lifted my arms up. He lifted my shirt over my head and laid me back down on the carpet. He began to unbutton his shirt and grinded his hips into mine. He scooted back off my hips and legs so he was straddling my thighs. He unbuttoned my jeans and started to slide them off my hips and butt, revealing my sheer purple panties with a lace waistband. He stood up and took off his jeans, while I shimmied the rest of mine off. I could see his erection nearly ripping through his boxer briefs.

Realizing this was my chance to take control, I turned myself around and knelt in front him. I place my hands on his stomach and pushed him against the bookcase. His chuckle didn’t last long before it was replaced with a moan as I worked his cock out of his briefs and let them fall to the floor. My mouth hovered over the head, I breathed on him and started stroking the base with my hand. His hand curling up in my hair signaled his want for my mouth. I licked the head ever so slightly and he thrust his hips forward. I wrapped my mouth around him and sucked him hard, teasing him with my tongue, pushing him as far down my throat as I could. His enjoyment was audible. Suddenly, he grabbed my hair and pulled me off him.

“You’re too good at this, B. I’m going to come.”

“What’s wrong with that?” I answered with a smirk and raised eyebrow. He rolled his eyes and led me to stand by my arm. He grabbed a condom from his backpack and tore the wrapper with his teeth. I grabbed it from the package and slid it onto his rock hard, pulsating cock.

“My turn.” He turned us around and pushed me against the books. The metal of the shelves were like ice to my naked back. Our lips connected and his hands explored my belly, back, and arms. Then he reached behind me, unhooking my bra and let it fall, revealing my milky white breasts that immediately reacted to his touch. I saw the fire in his eyes ignite as he went straight for them. Licking and sucking one nipple, while thumbing the other then switching, drove me crazy. I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to have him inside me. I had to. My hand found his cock and I felt him gasp. We were eye level again. He braced himself on the shelf behind me and pressed his hips against mine. I could feel my pussy dripping as his naked cock rubbed it through the thin fabric of my panties. I slid my panties off my hips and stepped out of them. He lowered on hand and guided his cock to my pussy. I gasped as he entered me. My knees weakened with every thrust. I ran my fingers through his hair and gripped his back, my fingernails made indents in his skin. His lips crushed against mine and our tongues fought. His thrusts became quicker and harder, smashing my back against the bookshelf. Our moans echoed through the silent library. I could feel my orgasm building in my belly, every thrust making it grow exponentially. His breath quickened and his shoulders tightened.

“I’m going to come.” He warned me raspily, breathlessly. I gave in to the tension that was building in my lower half and rode out the next few slow thrusts. He bit my shoulder as he came, trying to muffle our sounds. His orgasm triggered mine and waves of pleasure crashed over me as I squeezed everything I could from him, bucking my hips against him. I savored each twinge of pleasure and my body became weak. He broke our embrace and back against the bookshelf, slid to the floor, exhausted. I followed.

We sat there for a moment, reveling in release of tension between us. We got dressed and shared one last passionate kiss before parting ways.