No

He blushed even deeper—somehow—and took an involuntary half-step back, hands tugging at the bottom of his hoodie like he could hide in it.

“I—I can’t,” he said quickly. “I mean. I’m not… I don’t have a shirt on under it.”

Emily blinked.

That wasn’t the answer she expected.

Her mouth opened, a polite oh forming on her lips, but no sound came out. She hadn’t even really considered that he might say no. Not because she thought he owed her anything, not really—but still. Ten years ago, back when she was in college herself, she remembered the way boys looked at breasts. Especially boys who hadn’t touched one yet. The sheer awe they carried. The quiet, electric power of simply being seen.

She would’ve bet he’d have started peeling that hoodie off before she’d finished the sentence.

And yet… here he was.

Still clutching it. Still apologizing. Still awkward and sweet and unsure, even as he tried not to look at her chest again and failed miserably.

Emily shifted her grip on the torn blouse and the book clutched tight against her. Her right nipple had slipped above the paperback slightly—she tugged the book up, cheeks burning hotter. She was still so exposed. And he was still very much looking.

Not leering. Not creepy. But stunned. Fascinated. The kind of fascination that came with heat behind it—new and vivid and impossible to hide.

She couldn’t get out of the library like this.

She needed that hoodie.

And now she had a problem.

Because if he wasn’t going to give it up freely—out of shock or politeness or hormone-driven awe—then she had to figure out another way to get it.

Negotiation? No. Too slow. Too weird.

Demanding it? She didn't have that in her today, not half-naked in the sci-fi aisle, humiliated and flushed and tingling.

Appealing to his better nature?

Maybe.

Or maybe… just maybe… she could remind him of exactly what he was saying no to.

Emily swallowed, eyes scanning him again, gauging. He wasn’t leering—but he wasn’t immune, either. His hands kept twitching at his sides. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with his arms, his breath slightly shallow. His eyes kept darting toward the gap in her blouse and snapping away again, like he thought every glance might get him struck by lightning.

Her body responded before her brain had quite caught up—shoulders straightening slightly, spine lengthening, the bare curve of her chest shifting forward just a bit. Not aggressively. Just… present. Visible. The soft roundness of her breast just barely pressing against the inside cover of the book.

She tried to keep her voice even. Gentle. Embarrassed, but wry.

“So… what, we’re just gonna stand here? Me half-naked and you fully clothed?” Her smile tilted faintly at the edge. “That doesn’t seem fair.”

She didn’t know if it would work.

But she needed that hoodie.