Chapter 2 #2
“These are the best pictures you’ve ever taken,” Mary Heather declared. “I need a print of that last one. Honestly.”
“You’re pro level,” Kat agreed.
Jessica blushed as she leaned back, pulling her phone with her. “Thanks. I’m proud of them.”
A second later, my phone vibrated. Mary Heather’s watch buzzed. And Kat’s phone dinged with the sound of our group text. It was Jess’s photos.
“Okay, I think we’re all in agreement.” Mary Heather drew a little heart in her review notebook. “We like the presentation, the product, and the owner. We’d recommend Seasonal Sweets to …” She raised an eyebrow.
“Sugar fiends,” Kat offered. “Obviously.”
“People who like good vibes and a cozy aesthetic,” I said. “And people who don’t want the planet to become a plastic wasteland.”
“Ooh, good ones,” Mary Heather said, writing faster. Sparkly pink ink shimmered across the paper.
“And also people who want to slow down and enjoy a moment with their friends,” I concluded.
“That’s sappy,” Kat said.
“Very sappy, but our readers will love it.” Mary Heather capped her pen and looked around at us. “All right, I’ll get all this typed up. Can everyone look at it tonight?”
There was a round of “yeah” and “yes.” By then we were all done with our drinks. I collected the reusable sleeves and dropped them into the return basket while Jess tossed the cups. Then we headed down the street, toward the parking lot where Mary Heather’s mom was supposed to meet us.
Deer Hill was beautiful this time of year.
I mean, it was beautiful most times of year.
But with the bare trees, golden-hour sunlight made the surrounding mountains glow orange and peach and salmon.
Nestled in the valley, Deer Hill was alive with cheery storefronts, families walking down the street, and …
a boy’s canvas tote bag bursting open. Half a dozen books erupted from the rip.
“I was just thinking,” Kat said slowly, “that anyone who filled a tote bag that full deserved whatever they got.”
“You made that happen?” Mary Heather breathed. “With your mind?”
“Yeah, probably,” Kat said.
“Brutal.” That was Jess.
I didn’t say a word. I was busy being possessed by the strangest impulse.
Maybe it was something about the angle of light? Or the way the lines of the sidewalk led straight to him? Or maybe it was the sudden gap in the crowd as people lurched away from the book-splosion, framing him perfectly?
I opened my phone’s camera, tapped on the boy, and took the photo just as a nearby mom (she had a baby strapped to her) bent to help him gather the books. His face was red with embarrassment.
“Isn’t that Grayson Jennings?” Jessica asked.
“I think so?” I said, like I didn’t absolutely one hundred percent know it was Grayson on his way home from the library.
“Oh wow,” Jess said. “I almost forgot he existed. Hey, whatever happened to him, seriously? Did we ever get an answer?”
“I think his family got in trouble with the Mafia,” Kat said dryly.
“That seems unlikely,” Jess said. “Actually, I think I heard his parents are getting a divorce?”
“No, his parents decided they liked his older brothers better,” Kat continued, “and they’re sending ol’ Grayson to live in the stables at some rich girl’s house.” She shot Mary Heather a look. “Have you seen Grayson Jennings lurking around your house?”
“You have the weirdest conspiracy theories,” Mary Heather said. “We don’t have stables.”
I shoved my phone into my pocket.
“Hey, why were you taking his picture?” Kat nudged me. “Are you obsessed with stable boys now? A little straw in the hair? Poop on the shoes? That’s your thing?”
“What? No. Ew.” Heat rose in my face.
“Or maybe you’re trying to be a photographer?” Mary Heather bumped my other side. “Does Jess need to watch her back?”
“No, I—”
“Don’t steal Jess’s thing, you little thief!” Kat poked my arm. “Find your own thing if you’re so desperate. You must be good at something.”
Thankfully, we reached the parking lot, where Mary Heather’s mom was waiting in her car, a fancy sports utility thing that could haul seven kids, a horse, and maybe a small mountain.
Even though Mary Heather was an only child and they didn’t own a horse.
(Or a mountain, as far as I was aware.) The inside was buttery leather, with two screens for the back seats and consoles stocked full of snacks.
In spite of the food, the interior was immaculate, probably vacuumed daily, if not hourly.
I always felt a little guilty climbing in, as if I might have absorbed a ton of dirt and now that I was in a clean space, the Law of Filth Equalization would take over and I’d leave a huge streak on the leather.
It was just … too fancy.
Like, my parents were doing fine. So were Jess’s and Kat’s. But Mary Heather’s parents were doing next-level fine—name-the-gymnasium-after-them fine. It was intimidating sometimes.
A minute later, the four of us were packed inside the car, heater blasting as Mrs. Haber pulled onto the street. “Don’t you girls know that boy?” she asked, nodding toward Grayson.
By now, he’d picked up all his books and had them stacked in his arms, the broken bag dangling from his wrist. He was plodding along the sidewalk, shoulders hunched.
“Girls?” Mrs. Haber repeated.
Kat and Jess were in the very back seat, both on their phones;
Kat had the volume up while she watched a video on Scrollr. Mary Heather was in the passenger seat doing something on her watch.
“He’s one of the Jennings boys, right?” Mrs. Haber tried again.
“Yeah.” Mary Heather didn’t look up. “Grayson’s in our grade.”
“Should we give him a ride?” Mrs. Haber asked. “It’s cold. And he has all those books.”
Mary Heather wrinkled her nose. “Mom, he’s a loser. Let’s just go.”
“That’s not nice. Try to be a little more thoughtful.” Mrs. Haber stopped the car in the middle of the street and lowered her window. “Hey, Grayson. Do you need a ride? There’s room in the middle row.”
In the back, Kat and Jess whispered to each other—something I couldn’t hear.
Grayson started to shake his head, but then his eyes met mine through the tinted window. Something in my chest fluttered.
He. Was. Looking. At. Me.
I tried to be calm.
“Yes,” he said slowly. “Thank you.”
A minute later, he climbed into the car. I scooted over to give him room, but I wasn’t fast enough.
His knee brushed mine.
The fluttering something in my chest felt like it was about to explode.
“Sorry,” he said quietly, adjusting his books on his lap.
A whole word! Spoken to me.
I tried to breathe.
“Do you still live on Cottonwood Drive, Grayson?” Mrs. Haber asked from the driver’s seat.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Great. That’s on the way to Virginia’s.” She sighed. “I miss seeing your mother. Tell her I’ll call soon.” Then she put the car into gear and we were off.
The drive was awkward. Primarily because I was experiencing an intense crisis due to my unpopular crush being in the same car as my very popular friends. My library world and my friend world weren’t supposed to exist in the same space!
And now what? The girls were all on their phones, which meant I couldn’t talk to them.
And I couldn’t talk to Grayson because it didn’t seem physically possible to form words.
I kept thinking about the picture I’d taken.
And the fact that I could feel his body heat.
And the memory of his leg brushing mine.
After literal months of stealthily gazing at him from across the library, he was in the same car as me, breathing the same air as me.
I nudged my glasses back up the bridge of my nose, looking at him from the corner of my eye.
He had his face down, toward his books and the broken tote bag with some tech company’s logo on it, but it seemed like (keeping in mind the world beyond the edge of my glasses was a little blurry) he was looking back at me, too.
I tried not to freak out. Did he think I was cute? Or maybe I smelled funny. I’d put on deodorant this morning, but that was hours ago. And the hot chocolate! I should have touched up my lip gloss on the way to the car.
“What did you check out?” I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. And books were safe. Books made sense. Of course I’d ask him about books.
The count on words I’d spoken to him ticked up to twenty.
He gave me a sideways look, like he wasn’t sure if I was going to say something mean, but when I didn’t, he showed me the covers one by one.
A couple of volumes in a fantasy series, a mystery, and a few bestsellers that were being turned into TV shows.
“I like to read the books first,” he said, like he needed an excuse.
“Me too. How’s that series?” I pointed at the fantasy books—one was called The Shadows Rise, and the other was The Night Deepens. I’d seen the series in the library and kept meaning to pick it up. “I assume you read the first one already.”
This time, he smiled for real. And once again, I was having trouble catching my breath. “It’s really good. I read it in three days.”
I twisted the fringe of my scarf between my fingers. “Maybe—”
“Here we are!” Mrs. Haber pulled up to a single-story house with tan siding and navy shutters.
It was similar to all the other houses around it, except that this one had a bunch of rosebushes in the front and a few solar panels on the roof.
There were no cars parked in the driveway, which meant his parents and older brothers were all out. “You have a key?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Grayson opened the door and slid out of the car. “Thank you!”
“See you,” I said. Like this was normal, like I wasn’t cataloging his every word and micro-expression.
He flashed another smile at me as he closed the door. Then he was striding up the walk, his books tucked under one arm.
Mrs. Haber waited just long enough to make sure he got inside before she pulled away.
I tried to remember how to function normally.
“Get any good book recommendations?” Kat teased from the back seat. “Aren’t you the one who’s supposed to be recommending books? I’m surprised you didn’t ask to take his picture again. A cute selfie of the two of you, maybe?”
“Shut up. I was being nice.”
Kat snorted. “Oh, you know I’m not letting this go.”
That was true. Kat never let anything go. It was a promise … and a threat.