AllFreeNovel
Share Us
In my audience.
In my eyeline.
He smiles at me when he notices my staring, then proceeds to lean against the wall in the back of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. He’s wearing a ridiculous sweater covered in a pattern that resembles books.
The bastard snuck into a library conference to hear my presentation.
I could kiss him all over his perfect face.
But that would probably be a weirder thing to do than asking for a bathroom break.
Instead, he gets my sunniest smile. My heart still hammers heavier than necessary, but I find I can at least hear over the pounding.
The moderator gestures toward me before stepping aside.
And I think I’ve got this.
“Hello!”Too loud.“I’m Summer Pierce.”That’s better.“And I’m here to talk to you all about helping one of a public library’s most important patron groups. The homeless.”
Just like when we practiced, I talk to Cole. I give him my presentation. I look for his smile and chuckle when I crack a joke. His subtle head nods let me know I’m at a good pace. Amy’s interludes give me enough breaks to finish my water, and I don’t even suck the thing down like a drowning fish.
The time does not fly by, but it also doesn’t stick in place. The minutes progress, I sweat, my voice only quivers twice, and before long we’ve reached our last slide, a picture from Coffee Talk a few months ago where I sit among a group of our patrons, us all cheesing the camera with steaming paper cups.
With the happy memory displayed for all to see, I pull out my last line, not even needing my notecards.
“And remember, just because someone doesn’t have a home, doesn’t mean they don’t have a voice.”
The enthusiastic applause warms my already flushed skin, but I can’t help grinning in triumph. For the last ten minutes, Amy and I take questions from the audience, which I find to be a much easier task than presenting. Conversations I’m good at. Performing gives me hives.
When the moderator flashes the red card letting us know our time is up, we both thank the audience, and I breathe the first full breath I’ve taken in an hour. Librarians from institutions across the state, and even some from Mississippi and Texas, wander up to me afterwards, exchanging business cards and asking for my slides.
“You did great, Summer. Thanks so much for submitting this proposal. I’m glad we got to spread the word.” Amy slings her bag over her shoulder, here only for our presentation.
“Thank you.” I find myself blinking rapidly. Maybe it’s the sudden release of stress. Or maybe it’s hitting one of my career goals. First presentation at a professional conference! Whatever it is, happy tears clog the back of my throat.
Finally free, I head toward the back of the room where Cole still waits for me.
“You came!” I clap, staring up at him, sure there’s worship on my face.
“Had to see you kick ass,” he explains with a shrug, as if it’s obvious I should’ve expected him to come.
I want to hug him so bad, but I can’t help thinking about how damp the pits of my blazer are. Instead, I pluck at his sweater.
“This is the most amazing one yet. Another Mama Al purchase?”
He nods with a rueful smile. “She got it for me when she found out you’re a librarian.”
The indirect approval warms my chest.
“Why haven’t you hugged me yet?” Cole asks, a smirk on his face, but under it I can tell a hint of insecurity lurks. Not surprising. I’m constantly wrapping myself around him. I love the feel of Cole’s body against mine. Apparently, he’s noticed.
“I’m sweaty. And it’s stress sweat, so I stink.” I smooth my hands over my blazer as if I have magical detergent hands. “Don’t want to subject you to all this. They should have complimentary showers for anxious presenters. No one is going to want to sit within five feet of me.” Anxiety returns, not as fierce as what paired with my presentation, but still a subtle sting. No one wants to be the stinky person in the room.
Cole steps up to me, hands resting on my shoulders before sliding up to the back of my neck, massaging the tense muscles.
“How long till the next presentation?”
I glance at my program where I’ve highlighted the sessions I want to attend. “Ten minutes.”
