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“Everyone alphabetises,” Sebastian muttered.

“Not with intent,” Finnley replied, his voice grave. “Plus, he Dewey decimalises.”

“How do you even know about that?” Elliott appeared impressed.

Finnley shrugged. “I spent a lot of time in the library when I was in high school. It was a safe space.”

Theo folded his arms. “So we’ve established hot librarians exist.”

Julian tilted his head. “Is he the cardigan type or the rolled-up sleeves type?”

“That’s enough,” I said evenly.

Theo’s grin widened. “Mm-hm. Rolled-up sleeves.”

“And he’s an assistant librarian,” I corrected automatically.

Theo’s expression shifted slightly at that. “How old is he?”

“Twenty.”

Not one of them even raised an eyebrow.

“And? What’s he like?” Theo asked quietly.

“He’s intelligent. Informed. Not naïve.” I rolled my water bottle between my palms. “We’ve done two scenes. Last night didn’t count.”

That seemed to get everyone’s attention.

I huffed. “Why don’t you go back to plotting whatever it is you’re plotting? Better yet, why don’t we get back to work?”

Julian chuckled. “Theo, if he tells you anything else? We want details.” Then they all put their heads together and the murmurs began again in earnest.

Theo was staring at me. “Did you take him home?”

There was little point in denying it. “Yes.”

“Do I get details of what happened next?”

A snort. “No, you most certainly do not. Do I ask for details of your sex life?”

“And then?”

“And then he slept on the floor.”

Theo blinked. “Max.”

“Max what? It was deliberate.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“I needed⁠—”

“Structure,” Theo supplied.

“Yes.”

He studied me, no hint of mockery, as though he was assessing me. “Did it help?”