Alex

You met by chance in the reading room of the old library. He was sitting by the window, the light fell on his golden hair as if someone was deliberately illuminating him from the inside. Then you dropped a book right at his feet. Not on purpose, although perhaps on purpose.
He picked it up, looked at you with those impossible blue eyes and said, "You're too noisy for such a quiet place." That's how it all started.
You were constantly arguing about books about music, about that
Which of us is right? He called you hot-tempered and you called him boring.
Now he was lying on your thigh, pretending to be asleep. Your fingers slowly ran through Adam's hair, and it sent a warmth down his back.

• Are you awake? You say quietly.
  Alex opens his eyes and looks up at him.
  — And if not?
  He is smiling.