The Librarian – Part 3

Note: Fair warning: this is more about the relationship between the characters than sex.


Christmas had come and gone, certainly the most memorable in Daniel’s life. It was December 28, 10:00 in the morning, and he was dressing himself to go ice skating. While certainly no jock given his smaller build, he liked to swim, even making the school team. Most of all though, he loved to skate. Yet, what made this day most important to him was that Carter, who also enjoyed skating, would be meeting him there. He was leaving the next day, his college break over, and Daniel wanted it to be as special as the last evening they had spent together before Christmas. Timing it perfectly, Daniel knew that his mother would be at work until 5:00 that evening.

It wasn’t a typical small-town rink. The large creek running through town formed a shallow pond somewhat larger than a square block that everyone knew as Lake George, although it certainly was no lake. The creek entrances to the pond also froze over in winter, covered by old, wooden pedestrian bridges. However, town authorities had built a large warming house and kept the surface plowed of snow, thus creating an idyllic place to skate.

Daniel walked the three blocks to Lake George, skates tied together and draped over his shoulder. The sky was overcast with light grey clouds, but snow wasn’t likely until later that evening. It was a perfect day for skating…and other things. After the short walk, he entered the warming house, where he scanned the cluster of kids, teens and adults. They called it a warming house for a reason. There was a large propane heater in one corner that kept it toasty inside, ideal for changing out shoes and skates without freezing to death, or just taking a break to warm up.

“Morning, kiddo,” he heard from behind the door as he closed it. “Hey, Carter,” he said, looking into his eyes. He desperately wanted to hug and kiss him, yet knew that it was impossible; not here, not now. Carter was already in his skates, so Daniel found an empty spot on one of the benches that lined the walls and sat down, pulling off his boots and sliding into his skates.

“So, you like the girlie skates,” Peter said as he plopped down next to him on the bench. Daniel was caught completely off-guard and, almost like in a bad movie scene, everything around him froze in place while his mind reeled on. What was he doing here? Of all people, why him? Why now? Please don’t wreck this day for me!

Snapping out of freeze-frame, he said “they’re figure skates, not girlie skates.” He looked down to see that Peter was wearing hockey skates, those with large, wide blades and no serrated tip. “Huh, they’re girlie skates,” he said again, smiling this time, but sure of himself. Although Daniel was shy and sensitive, he was no cry-baby prone to sudden tears. “Try doing an axel wearing those clunkers, if you even know what that is. You’d fall right on your ass,” he replied with unusual frankness. “We’ll see,” Peter said, looking directly into his eyes, which sent a shudder through his body.

Why he even liked this guy, much less had a crush on him, was a mystery to Daniel. Peter was the same age and average in every way. In fact, it was incredible how everything about him was so average. At 5’6” he was taller than Daniel, but not much. Slender, but not skinny, he weighed about 120 pounds. His brown hair was neatly trimmed, and his facial features made him good-looking, but not necessarily handsome. What set him apart, however, were his eyes.

They were chestnut brown with curious honey sparkles, almost like shards of broken glass that reflected light. Perhaps that is what first drew Daniel’s attention. Occasionally, their eyes would meet in the hallway, classroom or gym. He tried to avoid it, but when they met he was mesmerized, feeling the same shudder he just had, and always looked away as quickly as possible. They strangely bored into him, melting his heart, yet luring him in.

Peter was also just plain a nice guy, and Daniel somehow knew he had a deep, gentle side. Even though a freshman and certainly no jock, Daniel had seen him defend others being picked on by those much bigger. He recalled an incident where a hulking oaf was terrorizing a kid in a wheelchair, showering him with verbal humiliation. Peter quietly walked up to him and stuck the tip of his thumb into the mastoid process at the base of his left ear, pushing him against a locker. “Owwwww!” the creep howled, unable to move. “You’re never going to do this again, are you?” Peter softly asked, then pressed a bit harder, bringing him to his tip-toes like a ballerina. “No, no!” he squealed through the incredible pain. “Excellent,” Peter said, as he released him. It reminded Daniel of the defensive tactics his father had used as a police officer when he was still alive.

If there was one thing about Peter that he found annoying, it was his unrelenting truthfulness. He would never tell you a lie or varnish the truth. If you smelled like a goat after gym class, he’d say, “dude, you stink; take a shower,” without batting an eye.