Being vexed, a sea

Jean nodded, taking the idea and letting his anxieties test is strength. All one had to do was begin to think What if? What if this made her a target for The Game? The prince sending parcel after parcel to the home of a plebian? What would anyone assume?

But he wanted this to work too. 

He looked at her shyly, knowing full well many boys his age shot for women her age for all kinds of reasons. The professor wasn't unattractive. She was pretty. And... so kind. He couldn't describe the shame that edged on him for bringing this excuse up. 

Are you sure, Professor? It's going to be a lot of books. I didn't grab all the ones I meant to. Are you sure you'll have room for it all?

Then more what ifs flooded in as he pictured little Professor Jolfy in a small tenement crammed with books barely having room for her oven, crammed in with all his books. Books weren't cheap. What if she were robbed? What if she were killed in the robbery? What if a stray spark from the fireplace floated at their dry pages in the cold winter?

It's a lot of books, he repeated, with emphasis. 

And now guilt washed up on the beaches of his heart. Idea after idea, she offered while holding him with so much compassion, and here he was defenestrating them. The word excuses cracked a sharp emotion on him. 

Maybe you can take a few books, and I can bury a few books? he said, half wondering if it could work or simply double all his worries. Maybe he should reconsider how many books he hated.