Libby the Librarian: A Rom Com Novella by Alice Bex

sounding better and better.
    “I’ve included a detailed plan for a successful transition in a document titled Structured Transition, which you may read at your leisure. Any questions?”
    “Yes. Are the points outlined in this Structured Transition document negotiable?”
    “No. Any other questions?”
    “Will you take your top off, now?”
    “If my memory serves, you will not be eligible to see me with my top off for another 16 days.”
    “Sixteen days? How long until your Structured Transition allows us to have sex?”
    “Twenty-eight days.”
    He sat up so abruptly, he almost fell of the couch.
    “You’re sure this is non-negotiable?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “So , I’m guessing, if I agree, today counts as day one.”
    Actually , tomorrow was supposed to be day one, but I was willing to stretch the point.
    “Yes.”
    “What are we allowed to do today?”
    “You may hold my hand and gaze into my eyes.”
    He wasn’t even trying not to laugh at me now.
    “Am I allowed to hold both hands at the same time?”
    “Naturally.”
    Adam opened the bottle of wine. He poured us each a glass. I was only halfway through mine when he took it out of my hand and set it on the kitchen counter.
    “You’re quite sure about the both hands thing?”
    I nodded.
    What happened next was completely unexpected.
    Adam took my hands in his. He gazed into my eyes. Sweetly. Then he backed me up against the kitchen wall and pinned both hands over my head. Not sweetly at all.
    “Is this allowed?”
    Technically, it was. I swallowed, but I didn’t bother answering.
    “ When am I allowed to kiss you?”
    “Tomorrow . Closed mouth. No tongue ‘til day seven.”
    “Fine.”
    He was looking at my mouth. I couldn’t help running the tip of my tongue around my lips. Adam lowered his mouth to meet mine. He was going to kiss me. In direct violation of my Structured Transition. I didn’t care.
    Except he didn’t kiss me. He kept me pinned against the wall and almost kissed me over and over again until I was struggling to meet his mouth halfway, but he never let me.

Nine
 
    Adam dissected my Structured Transition document point-by-point and stayed one step ahead of me all twenty-eight deliciously excruciating days of it. I’d made the stupid thing in the hopes of maintaining some sense of control over the process. As it turned out, Adam was the one calling the shots. Whenever I’d point out that he was exploiting loopholes in the provisions of the plan, he’d counter that I had proclaimed the steps to be non-negotiable.
    By day two , I knew I was in trouble. Day two was supposed to be closed-mouth kissing. I made the mistake of going over to his place in a sundress. Under the provisions I’d written up, any exposed skin was fair game.  He lay me down in the middle of the sheepskin rug his living room. He ran his lips over the backs of my knees and the insides of my elbows. He kissed my ear lobes and my neck. He ran his fingertips along the scoop neckline of my dress. After an hour of this, I was so tightly wound that I was practically writhing on the rug. By the time he finally got around to kissing me on the mouth I was so drunk with lust, I would have let him do anything, but he didn’t even try. He walked me out to the car, planted a kiss on my forehead and sent me home.
    The next evening I had him over for dinner. I wore long pants and a turtle neck , even though it was eighty-five degrees and I have no air-conditioning. He gave me a quick kiss hello and that was it. I figured he couldn’t do much with just my head and feet to work with. I hadn’t taken his body into consideration.
    “Let’s take a blanket out in the back yard and look at the stars,” he suggested. That sounded nice.
    I found a blanket and spread it out. He brought out a couple of pillows.
    “What are you doing?” I asked.
    “What does it look like I’m doing?”
    “It looks like you ’re taking your shirt off.”
    “ How very perceptive of you.