PROMPT (via guest review): Is there any chance that you'd write a fanfic about Toby handling and taking care of a low blood sugar Spencer? Like it could be something serious but with some fluffiness at the same time cause Toby is like the perfect overprotective boyfriend.

A/N: I decided to place this one-shot between seasons 2 and 3, mostly because I wanted to establish this as the initial 'low blood sugar' episode. When Toby mentioned it in S4's trip to Ravenswood, he said it as if he was referring to something that he had dealt with firsthand…since we never saw that occurrence on the show, I thought this was a logical place to insert it timeline-wise.

The title & a large part of my concept come from the song Turning Page by Sleeping At Last. The lyrics are GORGEOUS and I suggest all of you give it a listen. I don't own any rights to it, nor do I own a bit of PLL. Not even a bit.

THANKS for all of the support, friends! I used to be so scared to post my stuff, but the feedback I've received here has been unbelievably amazing…I can't even begin to say what it means to me! And for whatever reason, I'm kind of obsessed with this oneshot...I think I have a thing for libraries ;)

Long slanting lines of golden dust wafted across the row of high windows. Another day gradually surrendered to the all-too-punctual pull of time. Toby had spent a full nine hours out there today, sweating under a hazy blanket of July's worst humidity. He'd been in such a rush from the second he'd punched the time clock, running home to shower and change with the speed of one who knew his days were numbered. Only a few weeks left, his heart recoiled at his head's reminder, just a few more weeks of this bliss.

He was being melodramatic and he knew it. It wasn't like she was going anywhere. No, that heartache wouldn't come around until this time next summer. But he was dreading it nonetheless. Nothing would be the same once she went back to school. Goodbye to the carefree hours colored with laughter and snuggling, the rounds and rounds of Scrabble and Monopoly, the random day trips and lakeside adventures. He never thought he'd see a version of Spencer that could be this laidback, an erotic blend of sweetly innocent and sadistically enticing, and just so overwhelmingly happy. Maybe it would be different this time around...maybe Senior Year would bring an entirely new energy, carrying the breezy aftermath of these perfect vacation months. Their whole miserable ordeal was truly over now; Mona was under lock and key at a secured mental facility. What could possibly ruin this unmitigated serenity when -A's claws had been permanently clipped?

But then Toby's dreamlike regard wavered and crashed as he meandered past a spinning display of paperbacks and rounded the last aisle of musty shelves. She was hidden deep in her favorite corner, tucked between decade-old encyclopedias and illuminated in the unnatural glow of her ever-present laptop. It wasn't anything he hadn't seen before. Her college-level summer coursework had been a piece of cake according to her, something that she'd easily balanced between lazy afternoons at the pool and mall excursions with Aria and Hanna.

At the present moment, however, the tension of academia seemed to be back in full force. With that profoundly furrowed brow, the rawness of her curled lower lip, and a set of stringently hunched shoulders—the stress case before him was a total reversal from the giggling girl he'd bid a long goodnight to less than 24 hours ago. She'd been downright giddy the prior evening when he delivered the news: it was official, he was signing the lease next week and then the loft above The Brew would be his. To be honest, he had been pretty giddy himself.

But now? There was no remnant of yesterday's vibrant glee. This was a Hastings meltdown in full swing, a sight that had been largely uncommon over the span of these rapturous weeks. A lesser man would have turned then and run for cover. She could be brutal when she got like this.

It didn't pose a challenge for Toby, though. He was magnetized from the inside out. Even if he was walking straight into a deathtrap, he'd still go willingly.

"Hey, smarty. Whatcha working on?"

She didn't flinch at the unannounced disruption. "Renaissance Lit Essay."

"Almost done? We can still catch the movie if you…" he bent his head at an awkward angle, examining her trademark wristwatch while her fingers continued to fly across the keyboard, "…wrap up in the next 90 seconds. The theater isn't far, especially if we drive and—"

"I can't go. I texted you." Her words were clipped with efficiency. She still hadn't looked away from the document in front of her, hadn't even paused to greet him properly.

"No you didn—" Toby fumbled through his pocket for a second, then glanced dismally at the message he'd missed. "Oh. I didn't hear that come through."

If his words registered with her, she didn't make any sign of it. Her gaze flickered between the laptop and the thick volume to her left. The typing went on in a furious rhythm.

"Well I'm sure there's a later showing if you're still interested. Or we could just skip the movie and get dinner when you're finished."

Several seconds passed before a reaction could filter through the nearly impenetrable barricade of her fixated attention. "I can't. I don't have time."

"I don't get it, Spencer." He dislodged the already occupied chair that was next to her, taking tedious notice of how the stacks of papers were organized before he cautiously replicated the arrangement on the tabletop before him. "We talked about this just last night. You said you'd be free when I got off."

She huffed impatiently, finally making eye contact as he plopped down at her side. "My idiot of a professor shot down my original thesis proposal. I submitted that topic two weeks ago. Two weeks ago, and just this morning he decides that it's a little too far reaching for the assignment and he wants me to choose something else. Doesn't matter that I did hours of research. Forget the outline. Forget the notecards. Start over."

"What? That's ridiculous. Can he do that?"

Her hands rose to her hairline, kneading on either side of her head. "Yep. He made it pretty clear that his mind was made up."

Toby inspected her for a quiet moment. Her fingers had returned to the keyboard but they didn't move with the same gusto. In fact, they actually had a minor tremor trickling through them as she went back to work. Her face was startlingly white, her eyelids squinting together in a pained expression. He hated to see her so agitated, especially when he felt like there was nothing he could do to make it better. Although he fully expected her rebuff, he put it out there anyway—"Is there anything I can help with?"

She scrubbed at her forehead with the heel of her hand. "No, Toby. I appreciate the offer but I just have to crank this out by myself."

"Are you sure there isn't something else going on? You seem..." he browsed past several words that popped into his brain, trying to choose the least potentially offensive. This wasn't the first time he'd seen her worked up over one of her classes, but the friction in her tone was far beyond what he had encountered in their history of similar scenarios.

She didn't bother with the inconvenience of waiting for the rest of his sentence. "I'm fine."

"Spence...you're shaking."

"I'm not," she asserted stubbornly with an eerie flatness in her gaze.

He stole her hand away from the clacking keys, overpowering her measly resistance with a gentle tug. "You are. I have physical evidence here."

"Look Toby, I'm sorry that this came up, but I have to focus!" Her voice escalated in pitch, surely garnering the irritation of a mousy old librarian somewhere. "I've been here all day—still with basically nothing to show for it—and I need to concentrate now or I'll never get this done!"

"How long has it been since you last ate?" he asked calmly, refusing to match her inflection.

"Oh my god, did you hear what I just said?!" Unmistakable anger rose to the surface of her dark scowl as she shoved his hands away. "I can't go out tonight. Not to the movies, not out to eat. This paper is going to sink an entire summer of work if I don't get it written in time!"

Toby blew out an extended breath, daring once more to intervene with her rapid path to self-destruction. "Okay, I'm listening. No restaurant. At least let me buy you a juice...and maybe some crackers or something? I think you're on the verge of a low blood sugar crash, sweetheart."

Her forehead crinkled incredulously. "What are you talking about? I'm not hypoglycemic. Don't you think I would know if I was hypoglycemic?"

"Do you have a headache?"

She frowned, but there was a lot less venom in it than he'd expected. "Yeah. I didn't mention that, did I?"

He choked back a knowing smirk. "No, but you've been rubbing your temples every few seconds, and you kind of cringe every time you look at your computer screen...like the brightness is messing with your eyes or something."

She had the decency to look slightly chagrinned. "That's very observant of you."

"I'm a pretty good student when the topic interests me," he replied with an impertinent smile. "I'd also venture to guess that if you aren't feeling hungry, then you are feeling a bit nauseated."

"Right again. It's probably just the stress, though. Starting over on a fifteen page paper feels like a sucker punch to the gut."

His hand found her knee under the table, stroking lightly over her bare skin in an attempt to soothe her distress. "It'll be okay. I've never known you to crumble under the pressure, Spencer. And I want to help however I can, but you need to let me worry about you so you can worry about the essay. Now if I bring you something to eat, will you please promise me to take a few bites in between flashes of brilliance and determination?"

"Yes," she sighed exaggeratedly, a tiny grin twitching over her mouth. "The vending machine is by the stairwell."

"That's my girl," he murmured in satisfaction as his lips sought the soft curve of her cheek. He rose quickly, his eyes scanning her pale complexion. "I'll be back in a minute, alright?"

"Hold on, I need a book that's in that same direction. Let me—mmm..."

She'd pushed her chair out to stand, but her knees locked up from beneath her as soon as she started forward. Toby reacted on instinct, one arm rocketing out to stabilize her wobbly frame, the other anchoring to the back of her chair in an effort to maintain his own balance with the shift of her dead weight transferring entirely into his grasp. "Spencer!? Are you okay?"

Her eyelids were heavy as he lowered her back into her seat. "I...yeah, I think…I just got a little dizzy."

He watched her intently with a walloping panic filling his chest. "Are you sure? Do you need some fresh air or—"

"Uh, that snack was probably a good idea." She slumped down over her thighs with a small groan. "I haven't eaten anything since breakfast and I feel really lightheaded."

An exasperated reprimand was hot on his tongue, but what good would that do for her right now? Toby knelt before her and swept several kisses over her brow and into her hair. "Don't move. I'm coming right back and force feeding you if that's what's required."

She laughed meagerly, the thin sound of it trailing after him as he took off through the grid of shelves. He wasted no time, digging for his wallet as he went, a jumble of bills and coins already littering his hand when he slowed to a stop in front of the humming machine. And of course, his reaction was excessive. First an apple juice, then a package of peanut butter sandwich crackers, a bag of pretzels, plus some almonds because she might complain about the lack of nutritional values…which he totally negated when he purchased a carton of sour gummy worms—a guilty pleasure that she'd concealed from him for as long as possible, ashamedly admitting that they were the most juvenile junk food on the planet.

When he was at last satisfied with his selections, Toby swiveled sharply, carefully juggling the assortment of snacks as he dashed back to her.

"Whoa, did you rob an entire convenience store, Cavanaugh?" Her smile quivered faintly as she collected her hair in her hands and forced her head up from the table. "I couldn't eat all of that in a week!"

"We can share," he returned with a sly grin, knowing full well that she would never consume it on her own.

An abrupt dismay rattled him when her face collapsed without warning. "Oh, Toby, I'm so sorry. I'm being totally selfish. You haven't eaten dinner and a handful of pretzels won't be enough to—"

He dumped his loot onto the oak tabletop, leaning in instantly to shush her with an index finger against her lips. "I'm fine, Spence. Now drink this juice and try to relax."

Her wide eyes watched him for a long moment before she nodded obediently. He unscrewed the bottle cap and passed it to her silently, then busied himself with the task of opening each of the miniature bags that made up their spontaneous feast.

"You know I am capable of tearing into cellophane, right? You don't have to do all of that," she murmured between sips, her head tilting toward him with a feisty defiance in her expression.

"Are you? I wasn't quite sure," he said teasingly before he closed the narrowing gap. Their lips met in a smoldering, lethargic tempo. He didn't want to overdo it, so he withdrew after a few breathless seconds, smoothing runaway wisps of mahogany back behind her ears. "What'll it be first, baby? Almonds? Crackers?"

"Um, the crackers look good…and maybe some gummy worms too," she finished shyly with a scrunched-up nose.

Toby laughed at her unnecessary mortification. "Don't hold back on my account. The gummy worms are all yours."

To prove his point, he dangled a bright yellow and green one in front of her, holding it above her mouth as if she was a baby bird. She gave him her best eye roll, a disbelieving sneer parting her lips. "You are not feeding—"

But his target was open and he went for it, cutting off her objection by dropping the treat straight in while she was still mid-sentence.

"To-by," she mumbled derisively, her voice stifled with his candy delivery.

"Sorry," he retorted with a twinkling grin, "couldn't resist that opportunity."

Her gaze was contorted with scorn, but he could see a hidden shimmer of mirth pulling at her lips. "You're lucky I like you."

"You just 'like' me today, huh? I thought the gummy worms might earn me a little more than that," he said with a hand pressed theatrically to his chest, putting on his best fake-wounded face. It was no secret that both of their feelings ran a whole lot deeper than what they typically put into words—he was just giving her a hard time and her short spurt of laughter confirmed that she was more than aware of his ruse.

"I guess you deserve a proper thank you," came her saucy reply. Both of her hands fell against the hard planes of his torso, her head inclining irresistibly closer to his.

Toby tried to phrase a bantering comeback, but the witty side of his brain was on temporary lockdown as her soft lips navigated an alluring route from the corner of his jaw to the center of his chin. "Spence…"

Her mouth closed over his and he was gladly silenced. They traded probing kisses for several long beats, only choosing to part ways when the chatter of an approaching family divided their cocoon of privacy.

Spencer's eyes were still deliciously clouded, her thumb smudging across his lower lip with a husky sigh before she whispered one word that immediately sent his blood southward—"later."

He nodded dumbly, not sure exactly what she had in mind but already counting down the seconds until they were able to pick up where they had left off.

"Later," he repeated, "and for now, more snacking."

Toby pushed the shiny array of choices in her direction. She glanced up at him with a dubious look, and for a moment he thought she was going protest, but then she reached for a peanut butter cracker and took a dainty bite. "You know this vending machine junk is packed with unnecessary calories and gross chemical preservatives, right?"

He was about to defend himself until Spencer surprised him again, eating the rest of the cracker in one big bite and instantly grabbing another. "I was hungrier than I thought."

"Well that's kind of obvious since you were way overdue." He hunched forward to kiss her cheek, then stretched back and snagged the bag of pretzels for himself.

She shrugged as if he was embellishing the issue, but he was far from convinced. He doubted he'd ever be able to shake the image of her as she very nearly passed out—sheer terror had ransacked her entire expression, openly showcasing a level of fear she rarely exposed to him despite the dark circumstances that had continuously swirled around her from the start of their relationship.

But she oblivious to his inward reflections, chomping away at her cracker before launching a question at him with one eyebrow raised. "How do you know so much about this stuff anyway? You were diagnosing me before I even pulled a stage-worthy revival of a Gone With The Wind fainting spell."

He smirked at the glib reference, marveling at her ability to rebound so quickly, and feeling just a little smug that he was better acquainted with this topic than his walking dictionary of a girlfriend. "I had a great uncle who was diabetic. His condition was pretty severe by the time I was around, but basically anyone can suffer similar short-term symptoms if they aren't taking care of themselves. You might not be hypoglycemic – as you so enthusiastically denounced earlier – but that doesn't mean your body is invincible, Spencer."

She turned her doe eyes up at him as she made a move for the almonds. "I didn't mean to go all day, Tobes. I was just in the zone, you know?"

He resisted the pull of her sumptuous gaze, countering her innocent act with a chastising return. "Yeah, but shouldn't someone as intelligent as you be well-versed in the fact that your brain needs fuel to do its best work?"

"Ughh, work," she grumbled with sudden disdain. "I almost forgot about how much work I still have to do."

His stern demeanor disappeared in the wake of her crestfallen sigh. "Let me help, Spence. There has to be something I can do."

She was busy twisting her hair up into a messy bun, chewing methodically as she prepared to delve back into the essay. "Uhh...I'm so terrible at delegating, but I know you're right..." her searching regard lit upon the stack of books that sprawled next to his elbow. "I'm not using those anymore if you could put them back where they go. And when you come back I can give you a list of the ones that I still need."

"Perfect." He stood, stationing himself behind her just long enough to rub some of the tension out of her shoulders. "You're going to knock this one out of the park, okay? Have a little faith in yourself, sweetheart."

He kissed the top of her head, scooped up the pile of discarded books, and bolted before she could breathe a word of disagreement. It wasn't like her to be so down about schoolwork, not even on a crunched timeline like this. He was sure that the element of unpredictability was really the root of her frustration. Spencer was a planner, a disciplined student if he'd ever met one, perhaps the most regimented seventeen-year-old on the planet. This college professor had no clue what he was up against, something Toby was certain would be reflected in a very disgruntled end-of-semester survey.

It didn't take him long to locate the shelves he needed and the books were returned without a glitch. He doubled back a few minutes later, retrieving her awaiting list from the table without even a murmur of interruption. Her hands were soaring across the keyboard once more, only pausing for the occasional rustle of activity when Spencer sought out the illicit bag of sugar-coated candy.

With a gratified smile, Toby divided his way through the rows and rows of dusty books, rifling through the tall shelves in pursuit of her neatly itemized list. Spencer was one of the few people he knew who still utilized cursive when she wrote by hand and the scrap of paper that he held was no exception. Her script was as beautiful as the girl who penned it, long and looping, but perfectly precise in a way that exemplified every inch of her personality. Each word was elegant, yet practical. It was like a fingerprint that clearly identified exactly who she was, and he treasured it for that very reason.

The task before him required much more effort than the previous one, especially when Toby landed on a title that was coded with a combination of number and letters that was completely foreign to him. It didn't fit anywhere in the entire nonfiction section. After a second look – and then a third – he eventually admitted defeat. Peering through a gap in the thick editions of a Norton Anthology set, he saw that Spencer was still hard at work, leafing through a notebook with a look of consternation. He didn't have the heart to disturb her, so he made his way to the nearest circulation desk with a fortifying sigh. The woman behind the counter might have been half his size, but the seemingly permanent glare on her face made him squirm with discomfort.

And that glare only deepened at his request. "That volume cannot be checked out."

"That's okay. It's for my girlfriend's research paper and she's working at one of the back tables. If you can just point me in the right direction…"

She ogled him without a word. He felt like he was on a dissection table.

"…or maybe refer me to someone who knows where it is…"

That remark unearthed a cantankerous scoff from her as if he'd said something horribly insulting. She still didn't speak, but simply turned away from him and strode through an adjoining door. He wasn't sure what that meant or what he was supposed to in her absence. She was back after several elapsed minutes, lugging an enormous compilation of European Renaissance history, her features creased even further to mark her irritability. "Please ask permission to photocopy any portion of this work. If you try to exit the library with it in your possession, an alarm will go off. Understood?"

He nodded with a sizeable dose of astonishment, slinking away before she could try to fingerprint him or something. "Thanks for your help."

The book plunked ominously against the table once he'd made a beeline back to Spencer, producing an impressed look from her rounded eyes. "So you survived Hilda, huh?"

"Hilda? If you mean the Loch Ness Monster of the literary dominion, then yeah, I survived." His gaze tapered with realization. "Think you could have warned me about her, Spence? Or at least called off the scavenger hunt by telling me that this wasn't shelved with everything else?"

"Sorry, I wasn't thinking and—" her face brightened as she cut off her own apology, "I'm already on the top of page five, Toby!"

"That's great!" His hand fastened to her shoulder, squeezing lightly as he beamed down at her. Her smile was indisputably contagious.

She rested her hand on top of his and pinned him with an expectant glance. "Would you mind grabbing the first few pages from the printer? I was hoping you would proofread what I have so far."

He couldn't help it. He was gaping at her in total shock. "You want me to edit a college level essay?"

"Hey, that's not so crazy, is it? You read a lot, Toby, and I'm not talking silly stuff either—you like the classics! So I think you're more than capable of checking for grammar mistakes and general flow issues." His disbelief must have still been etched plainly into his expression, because she shifted into an undeniable pout as she examined him. "Please, Toby? I know it's boring stuff but—"

"But nothing. I'd be happy to read it."

They settled into a quiet contentment once he'd returned, him skimming through her work with the occasional note of correction or clarification while she flipped briskly through her new sources, making abbreviated notations in a notebook and bookmarking important passages of information.

It was an imperceptible change, a gradual chain of events—after being locked up all day in the gusting air conditioning, Spencer began to shiver and he couldn't ignore it. He glanced up, saw how forcefully she'd wrapped her cardigan around herself, and instinctively scooted his chair next to hers.

"Thanks," she murmured harmoniously, leaning into his side without hesitation.

He kissed her temple and went back to reading.

But it wasn't long before he was absentmindedly tracing shapes across her exposed leg, idly relishing the closeness of her, soaking up the sweet scent and silky feel of her familiar skin.

"Toby?"

"Hmm?" He didn't look up, wanting to finish his current sentence while he still had the rest of it in his head. When he did bring his eyes to hers, she still hadn't continued her question. "What is it, Spencer?"

Her copper orbs flicked distractedly over his face. "Um…nothing."

"You're sure?" He scrutinized every nuance of her ivory countenance in blatant confusion. It was unusual for her to be preoccupied or passive. If she had something to say, she rarely had any trouble saying it.

"Yeah, I'm sure." And with that, she was typing decisively like she'd never spoken at all.

So he shrugged and turned to the fourth page, circling a comma and scribbling a note, debating whether or not the punctuation was really necessary. After reading and re-reading the last few paragraphs, he was positive that they were—unsurprisingly—without flaw.

Toby stretched backward to loosen a crick in his neck, inadvertently allowing his hand to climb higher up her thigh. She shivered again.

"Are you alright in here, Spencer? I just got to the end of this section, so I can run to your house and grab something warmer for you to wear if you're too cold."

"No, I'm okay." She hastily clicked a couple of buttons on her screen, then closed the laptop completely and seized his hand. "But I am in serious need of a study break."

He was about to reply with sincere approval, but a glimmer of wildness was brimming in her eyes and he changed course accordingly. "What kind of study break, Miss Hastings?"

She smirked wickedly at his suggestive tone. "Come on. I'll show you."

His fingers laced snugly against hers as he shadowed close behind in an impetuous trance. They wove through the vast maze of aisles, trudging deeper into some desolate wing that Toby had never before noticed. The lighting grew dimmer, almost like even the staff had forgotten that this part of the building existed, thus not bothering to replace the fluorescent bulbs that had shorted out intermittently.

"Right…here," she stopped with a whisper, pivoting so her back was propped against a shelf bordering the exterior wall.

He squinted at a wrinkly hardback just above her head. "The End of Prosperity: The American Economy in the 1970s. Huh. Sounds like a real page turner."

"That's the point. No one reads that…or anything else that's shoved into this section."

Her voice had taken on a sultry resonance and he found himself trapped in her electric gaze. "Is it 'later' already?"

She caught on to his meaning in a split-second. They'd been interrupted earlier, but she'd done everything she could to be sure it didn't happen again. "That's right. Later. I never did get done with that 'thank you' from before, did I?"

Her lips pressed leisurely to his, her petite palms scraping down his pectorals and drifting toward his abdominal muscles. A sizzling jolt rocked through him when her hands were no longer above his shirt, but below it. The zap of her touch was one thing, but she was also far too close to the waistband of his jeans. A reverent groan slipped out of him unbidden when her tongue came out to wet his lower lip just as her thumbs dug into the flesh at his hip bones. It was instant sensory overload and he couldn't combat the surge of attraction that hazed across his brain.

Toby bent to imprison her against the bookcase, devouring her in an open kiss and aligning their bodies flush against each other. Her arms constricted around his neck with a ravenous persistence. She gasped into his mouth when his fingers slipped behind her, dancing over the curving silhouette of her shorts, halting at the hem to play with the edges of khaki material. Just as he began to rethink the boldness of that action, her kisses became even more frenzied and she clawed at the roots of his hair with burgeoning endorsement.

That's how it had gone all summer—one of them going a step further than expected, the other wholeheartedly welcoming a new upshot of intimacy. The line that could not be crossed was sliding further and further away all the time. Spencer was often the one who finally called for a retreat, something she'd tried to apologize for at every opportunity. She'd spurned all of his reassurances until he'd been forced to sit her down and explain that the decision to wait was a mutual one. As much as he despised any conversation that revolved around his history of sexual abuse, it had become glaring apparent that Spencer needed to hear just how much he wanted the same things that she did. They agreed that night; their relationship was too important to rush, too special to risk their happiness by jumping before they were both ready.

But that discussion did nothing to cool them off. Sure, they knew their ultimate boundary, but the make-out sessions were always escalating, the sweltering thirst for more becoming harder and harder to contain.

Spencer's mouth tore away from his, and he tried to prepare himself for the impending brake light. Her fingers wound deeper into the mess of his spiky locks as she panted with difficulty. "You were really making me crazy out there, you know."

Her words carried a blissful levity. He smiled and kissed her nose. "Was I? It certainly wasn't intentional."

"Yes, Toby, my god..." her she looked him over languidly, a hand retracting from his scalp to hook onto one of his belt loops. "You smell so good…and sitting close like that, your hand on..."

Her eyes drooped shut when he reenacted his prior activity, this time being very purposeful as his agile fingertips propelled along the line of her willowy leg. "Like that, Spence?"

She made a little noise in her throat and yanked on that belt loop like she wanted to break it right off. Her face was absorbed with passion, a few escaped ringlets framing her cheekbones, a flush warming over her collarbone.

"You couldn't be more beautiful," he muttered in a decibel that was barely audible.

Her eyes cracked open, practically as black as coals. "I only believe that when you say it."

He launched forward, unable to fully grasp the enormity of what she'd uttered, but so filled with love for her that he just had to have more. Her lips latched onto his with innate adoration and her hands fluttered at his shoulders, stabilizing herself as he parted her long legs and pulled one of them up to his waist.

Their kisses were getting shorter, his lungs expanding violently as if they might shatter. He finally gave in to his screaming need for oxygen, his mouth travelling beneath her chin, along her neck, sucking softly at the juncture of her shoulder. It was there that he planted himself, suddenly feeling extremely grateful for her choice to pile her hair on top of her head. He had free access to one of her most sensitive—

"Mmmm…Toby…"

He grinned indulgently against her skin, gnawing on the same spot and earning another whimper of appreciation. The lean network of her elastic limbs began to dissolve. She rumpled his shirt between her fingers and sagged further into him. They couldn't keep this up for much longer if something didn't change—Toby was staggering with the immensity of his own desire, hardly trusting himself to keep both of them upright.

Intuition drove him forward, his hands cupping beneath her and lifting her backside to rest atop the nearest metal shelf. Both of her legs circled him automatically, urging him into her embrace as she returned the favor by capturing the patch of skin below his ear and giving it her utmost attention.

"Are you okay?" he mumbled into her hair. "Is that comfortable enough?"

Her hands cradled his jaw, the size of her dark irises amplified as she leaned back to look at him. "Yes. Can we…just a little longer, okay?"

"You don't have to ask, Spencer."

They smiled at each other as if some grand secret had passed between them. Their lips met in lavish synchronization, bodies knitting together like they'd been designed for that very purpose. There was something about the way she had coiled around him that suddenly brought his mind back to those cursive lines he'd been admiring earlier. He wanted all of her—long and looping, perfectly precise, elegant but not unreachable. He was in awe of her, and he couldn't imagine a day where that awe would ever wear off.

And they were surrounded by millions of pages, book after book, endless configurations featuring every letter in the alphabet. There were so many stories here, both real and invented, masterpieces and romances, representations of all that life could offer. Maybe he was being overly ambitious, but with the divine sensation of Spencer's lips on his, Toby couldn't help but believe that the story unfolding in front of him would be the best of them all.