"I'd like to check this out please." A voice said. Dean looked up from behind the desk and saw a woman, looked to be in her 20s with wavy brown hair and green eyes. "Sure thing." Dean scanned the book and handed it back to her.
"Nice choice, I love Carver Edlund's books too." He told her with a smile. A few hours later, just before closing time Dean took off his name tag and was ready to close up for the day when he heard the bell chime signaling the door opening. Dean walked back to his desk ready to help the next customer. He saw a man in a white shirt and tie with a black overcoat and ruffled dark brown hair entered and browsed through the young adult section.
The stranger came up to Dean with a book in his hand. "I'd like to check out please." Dean nodded and scanned his book. "Have a nice day." Dean smiled, handing over the book. "You too."
The next day was just about the same as the last, there was never much of anything exciting at the library, but Dean liked the quiet. He was a book nerd himself and he loved being surrounded by fellow readers. He felt more at home here than at his grungy apartment on the other side of town, the "dirty" side of town is what people called it. His place was all he could afford after finding himself in a pit of debt after college.
His family wouldn't help him out after he came out as gay. They never even talked to him since. No more phone calls or visits for Thanksgiving, they just shut him out and pretended he didn't even exist.
He went to college to get a new start and to study English because he wanted to become a writer. He started off in that direction but he could never sell his works to a publisher. His stories were to private.
Instead, whenever he has the time he does writing prompts behind his desk and reads some of the books people turn in.
The bell on the door rings about 30 times a day, Dean doesn't bother to look up to see who it is every time. But this time he saw the same man from yesterday walk in and search through the shelves of books.
Dean couldn't stop watching him when he would take a book off a shelf and examine it, all the books he looked at were Deans favorite books.
He didn't need to see the title on the spine, he knew from the place it was pulled from the shelf which book it was. He's been there so many times himself has memorized where his favorite books were placed.
Day after day, the same man enters the library and looks through the shelves for hours before checking out. And day after day Dean felt like he has learned so much about this stranger just by knowing what books he reads. He doesn't even know his name.
On one Sunday afternoon, the stranger was flipping through another one of Deans favorites. Dean stopped working at his sodoku puzzle to look at him. The man was reading this new series that just came into the library. Checking them out two at a time.
When the last person walked out of the building, Dean wrote on the back of his sudoku puzzle, Hi, my name's Dean. And that was it. He walked to where the series of books his customer was reading and slid the piece of paper into the book next in the series, knowing he will be checking it out tomorrow.
Dean grabbed his leather bag from his desk and put on his dark red jacket before leaving and locking up.
The next day, the man was the first customer to enter the library and just as Dean suspected, went straight to the area where he hid his note. Dean grinned when he saw him take out the piece of paper. He saw the corner of his mouth turn up into a smile when he read it.
Dean pretended to not notice him there when he walked up to the counter with two more books. Dean scanned the books and gave them back. "Thank you." He heard him say when he turned to leave. Dean looked down at his desk and noticed a folded piece of paper. He unfolded is and read, I'm Cas.
The next day was a dark and dreary Monday afternoon and Dean was riding the city bus to work. When the bus dropped him off, he unlocked the door to the library, flipped on the lights, and turned the closed sign around so that it said open.
Just like the start of any other day, he set his bag down on his desk and took off his jacket before sorting through the books in the return bin. He couldn't help thinking of Cas, the man who wrote a note back to him. He couldn't deny it to himself, he was crushing on him. He was very good looking, also loved to read and was even into the same genre as Dean.
Dean tore out a puzzle from his Sudoku book and wrote down his next note. He slid the note into the next book in the series Cas was reading and went back to work.
At around noon, Cas walked in and Dean followed him with his eyes to where he planted his note. Cas opened the piece of paper and read, 552-7427. Call me -Dean. Cas took the books up to the check out desk and whispered to Dean, "Will do." And gave him a wink before leaving the library.
