Chapter Two
Imake it to work in record time, and I'm barely in my seat before my phone is in my hand, desperately searching for any nugget of information on this girl.
Social media is a menace to society, honestly.
I feel like a stalker, but I need some kind of opening to talk to her, and I'll take any help I can get.
As long as it's not coming from Eddie, anyway. I like the guy, but he's a little overwhelming sometimes.
All I have is a town and a first name to go off of, but at least it's not a super common name.
Callie. I check Eddie's friend list first and find nothing. Maybe she knows someone here and that’s why she chose such a dreary, unappealing place to move to.
I type her name into the search bar alone, hoping maybe there's a mutual friend that makes her pop up.
No such luck. I add our town to the filter, and it shows similar name matches only, so maybe she didn't update her location yet.
I add the bookstore to the workplace filter and get nothing at all.
Ok, so she might just not be on social media. Not a bad thing, just inconvenient. Guess I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way.
I spend the next hour trying to focus on my book, but I only make it about five pages in before I give up and flip between doomscrolling and mobile games for the rest of the night.
The next day, I consider stopping in again but decide against it.
The book I got yesterday was huge, and there's no way I could have finished it in one shift.
I got a head start on it this morning, and I'm planning on finishing it tonight.
My grand plan is to stick with the original idea and ask if she's read it yet.
Eddie said she was into fantasy books, so I'm guessing there’s at least a 50/50 shot that she has.
If she hasn't, I can recommend it to her, and if she has, I can ask her what she thought of it and ask her for a recommendation for my next book.
It's not much, but it's a start, and it's an easy conversation for her to escape quickly if she's not interested in talking to me.
I spend my entire shift reading and finish the last page about 10 minutes before it's time to go. Leaving work at four in the morning is annoying, but driving through the empty, peaceful town is relaxing. The drive is short, and I pass out as soon as I'm out of my uniform.
—
I usually don't remember my dreams for long after I wake up, but I'm still thinking about last night's dream on my way to the bookstore.
I was walking on a mountain path somewhere I'd never been, low-hanging clouds covering the peaks in the distance.
I could see the little town at the base of the mountain that the path was leading me to, but I couldn't make out much detail.
There were wooden cabins and old-fashioned stalls with cloth awnings, and I could hear the chatter from the people milling about.
I could hear people talking just behind me, but as soon as I turned to look at them, I woke up.
It's been a few hours, but I can still see everything clearly. I considered going back to sleep, wondering if the dream would pick up where it left off, but I'd definitely be late for work. I’m already cutting it close, and I need enough time to chat with Callie.
I head to the café first, waving at Eddie on my way in. I zero in on her immediately, and I remind myself that I'm supposed to be at least pretending that I'm cool, so I focus on chatting with Hannah while she makes my coffee.
Callie's wearing a black t-shirt with what might be a metal band logo hidden by the front of a pair of worn denim overalls.
She wheels a cart full of books through the used section, sliding them into their places on the shelves.
The top of her hair is pulled back into a little bun like mine, and the rest hangs free.
She plucks a pen from the front pocket of her overalls and a clipboard from her cart.
I make a show of picking up a book from the display table and reading the synopsis while she checks things off on her clipboard.
I've already read this book. Twice, actually, but she doesn't need to know that.
I position myself so that I'm facing her but keep my eyes down, watching her only from my peripheral vision.
As soon as I catch her looking my way, I set the book back on the table and "accidentally" catch her eye. How serendipitous. She gives me that wide smile again, and I grin back.
Now's my chance.
She sees me walking towards her and she doesn't freeze or look around for an escape, so that's a good sign. I'm at least a foot taller than her, and a security uniform isn't much of a reassurance of character these days.
"Hey, welcome back," she says, and her voice is lower than I expected, and maybe a little too chipper.
She's probably just giving me her customer service voice because I'm accosting her in her workplace, but damn it if it didn't send a thrill through me that she remembered me.
She sets her clipboard on the pile of old hardcovers.
"Is there anything I can help you with?"
"Yeah, hey. I'm, uh, Devon. I'm here a lot, as you can tell.
I, uh, went to school with Eddie," I mumble awkwardly, mentally kicking myself.
Stop saying "uh", you dense motherfucker. This is not going as smoothly as I'd hoped. She’s squinting at my mouth, and I remember she’s not just listening but also reading my lips.
I consider holding out a hand to shake but remind myself that this isn't a business deal and my palms are probably sweating, so I stick one in my pocket and point the other at the display for the book I just finished. I clear my throat and try again.
"I just finished that one last night. Have you read it?" My words come out with a little more confidence this time, and hopefully I’m loud enough for her to hear without struggling. I'm now standing at the proverbial fork in the conversational road.
The knots in my stomach loosen a bit when she nods emphatically and says, "Yes!
I just finished it the other day. I loved it!
" I can feel my shoulders loosen up, and I realize just how many muscles have been clenched as I release them.
I hope she can't tell that I'm slowly melting back into a human being shaped puddle of anxiety.
"It was so good," I tell her, running my hand over my beard nervously. We chat about the book's pivotal ending for a few minutes. We both thought it was really great and agreed that it was left open for another book on purpose, even though nothing has been announced.
"Oh shit," I mutter, glancing at my watch.
"I have to get going or I'm gonna be late for work.
" Her face falls just enough for me to clock it and I almost feel bad being excited about that.
Almost. I decide that a few minutes won't kill me.
"Hey, I need something to read tonight at work. Any suggestions?"
She lights up again, and I'm three seconds from calling off tonight.
She lifts her clipboard a bit and pulls out a book, holding it out to me.
I can tell it's an early 80's fantasy just by the cover.
It's mostly lime green, with a big technicolor illustration of a dragon in the middle, a tiny rider perched on its back.
I could have sworn that pile was all hardcovers, but this is an old paperback with worn edges.
"This series was always one of my favorites," she explains.
"It's a little dated but the story is great.
There are like 25 books in the series, too.
It's a classic dragon fantasy, so I think you'll really like it.
" The last word is clipped, and she pinches her lips together like she's trying to make herself stop talking.
She looks down at the floor. "I hope so, anyway," she adds quickly, quieter than before.
Holy shit. Is she nervous? To talk to me? There's no fucking way.
I wrap my hand around the book and wait for her to release it, but she's still holding on tight, staring at my hand.
"I bet I will," I reassure her quietly, and then I remember that she can't fucking hear you, dumbass.
So, I rustle up every ounce of audacity I own and gently touch the fingers that she has clamped around the book with my free hand.
Just a light brush against the backs of her fingers, and that drags her attention back to me.
"Oh," she squeaks, letting go of the book. Great, too much. "Ok, let's get you checked out so you're not late." Or maybe not? I can't tell, but she's still smiling while we get to the register.
I don't tell her that I'm already late at this point because I honestly couldn't care less, but I hurry behind her anyway.
"I'll start on this when I get to work," I tell her as she rings me up. "I'll let you know what I think next time I stop in, but I'm sure I'll like it if you do."
She beams at me and slips my receipt in the book before handing it over. I slide it under my arm and turn towards the door.
"See you later," she calls after me.
I make sure I turn to her before I speak this time. "Absolutely," I tell her with an awkward little wave that makes me want to cut my fucking hand off. Then she gives me the exact same wave back and I could probably get hit by a bus right now and die happy.
What the fuck is happening? I don't think I've ever been this nervous in my life.
I mean, I haven't spent much of it talking to beautiful women who are into fantasy books and possibly me, but still.
My cheeks hurt from grinning like an idiot for the last 20 minutes.
My palms are definitely sweaty, and I think I might be shaking a little bit.
That went... good. Like, really good. Most importantly, she was definitely just as anxious as I was, and I don't think it was in a bad way?
Oh, shit. Was it in a bad way? I hope she wasn't just being nice to me because I was a customer, and she had to. She's not flirting with you, idiot. She's just hot and talking. Fuck. Next time I go in, I'll wait for her to talk to me. If she actually wants to, she'll ask me about the book.
I spend the drive to work replaying the entire interaction, analyzing her reactions and agonizing over whether I made her nervous or uncomfortable. I'm aware that there is a huge difference between the two, and I have absolutely no interest in making her uncomfortable.
I roll into work about ten minutes after my shift starts and apologize to John for making him stay late.
He waves me off without a word and hustles off before his wife calls to chew him out.
I sit at my desk with my new book. I'm still rolling our conversation around in my mind and self-flagellating over it when I open the book and the receipt slips out.
I think my eyes actually bulge out of my head when I notice the 10 digits scribbled on the back in glittery purple ink. Underneath the number, she wrote "in case you finish the book early" with a little smiley face.
I don't know how long a human being can go without breathing, but I'm definitely setting a record.
I have no idea when she had the chance to write this.
I must have been staring at her face so hard I didn't even notice her hands.
What I do know is that she had to have done it after I touched her hand, which means I've been torturing myself for nothing.
I can't even bring myself to be annoyed about it because holy shit, she gave me her number.
I save her number in my phone immediately but stop myself from texting her just yet. I need to read a little bit, and then I'll start the conversation with something to report. That feels like a solid plan.
Two hours later, I'm about 100 pages in and I'm invested. This is pretty good, honestly. I think I've read enough to give her an honest update, so I stick the receipt in the book to mark my page and pull out my phone.
Hey, it's Devon. I'm about a third of the way into this book and it's pretty good. Excellent suggestion, thank you!
Perfect. I set my phone down and go back to reading. I don't expect a response right away. She's probably still at-
My phone vibrates. It's been maybe 30 seconds. I don't think I've ever grabbed my phone so fast in my life.
Good, I'm glad you like it! Who's your favorite character so far?
Definitely the dragon.
Lmao that sounds about right. It's a short one so you'll probably finish it tonight. Do you want me to see if we have the second one in stock?
That would be great, thank you! What about you? Who's your favorite?
I'm also pretty partial to the dragon.
We chat back and forth for a while, some replies coming immediately and some taking a while until around six when I assume she leaves work, because I get a steady stream of quick responses for the rest of the night.
We mostly talk about the book, or other books, which is fine with me.
I give her live reaction updates, and she sends me teasers of spoilers without actually telling me anything useful.
I'm just about done with the book when she tells me she's heading to bed, and I realize several hours passed in what felt like two and it's past midnight.
She makes me promise to send her a final update when I'm done so she can read it in the morning.
I'm in the process of texting her back when she sends me a selfie of her lying in bed holding up a pinkie and smirking at the camera.
My brain short circuits and the only response I can come up with is a selfie with my own pinky out, followed by "Pinky promise. Goodnight."
Oh, I'm so fucked.