Chapter Four
I'm so used to working the night shift that I usually don’t even bother with an alarm, but today I slept in so long that I almost don’t have time to stop at the bookstore.
Tomorrow is our date. Is it a date? So far, every conversation we’ve had has screamed “friend zone”, so it’s entirely possible that I’m imagining any real connection beyond friendship. If it was meant to be a date, it's probably not anymore.
I only had one text when I woke up, and it was just a vague 'okay, goodnight!
', so now I'm itchy all over and worried that she's upset with me.
I'm aware that it's illogical and that she's probably not mad, but unfortunately the little gremlin in my brain only knows the words "you", "fucked", and "up", so I need to lay eyes on her to confirm she doesn't hate my guts now.
I rub at the center of my chest as I walk toward the front door, trying in vain to relieve the tightness there. Callie is working the register, so she's the first thing I see when I walk through the door. Her face lights up when she looks up at me, and suddenly the tightness vanishes.
"Hey," she calls, giving me a little wave from behind the counter.
"How'd your writing session go?" She's smiling, and literally nothing about her demeanor indicates that she's annoyed with me in any way, but my stupid brain is still not convinced.
She curls an eyebrow at me, and I realize that I've just been standing here staring at her like an idiot, reveling in the fact that she didn’t spit in my face when I walked in.
"Oh, uh..." I shake my head lightly, running my fingers through my beard.
"Sorry, I had a late night. Writing was actually really good.
That other book you set aside for me was actually.
.." I pause as Eddie barges through the office door and takes a seat on the stool next to her.
I don't feel like explaining the annotated book to him, so I switch directions.
"...really good. You got any other suggestions for me for tonight?
I woke up late, so I don't have much time to browse. "
The words fall out of my mouth before I remember that I still have a whole book to read from yesterday, but she doesn’t seem to notice the mistake.
"Oh, yeah!" She gives Eddie a questioning look and he nods solemnly.
As soon as she turns, he shoots me a wry smirk as if he's doing me a favor by allowing her to step away, despite the fact that I’m literally the only customer in the store.
He means well, but sometimes I want to kick him in the head.
Callie brushes past me and it takes all of my frayed self-control not to grab her hand as it bumps into mine. Then she glances at me over her shoulder with a look that screams mischief. "Right this way," she almost whispers. Wait, did she touch my hand on purpose? Was I supposed to grab her hand?
Fuck, I am so bad at this. I have got to chill out. I'm going to scare her away before I even get the opportunity to make her fall madly in love with me.
I follow her to the used books and try not to drool on myself or something equally creepy since that seems to be my default mode with her when there’s not a cafe table between us.
Apparently, all of my brain cells keep rushing south with the blood flow.
I watch quietly as she scans the stacks and jam my stupid hands into my pockets before they get a mind of their own.
This was decidedly not the correct move, because it pulls the rough fabric of my uniform painfully tight, and the friction sends a shock straight to my spine.
I groan quietly, slowly removing my hands from my pockets and fisting them at my sides.
"Aha," she shouts, and my heart stops. Oh shit, she caught me.
I whip my gaze to hers and thank fuck she's staring at the book in her hand and not my current.
.. situation. "Whoops," she whispers, leaning closer to me.
I look around pointedly at the empty bookstore, about to tell her about the zero people who care about her yelling, but she's currently close enough that I can smell her floral perfume, so I make the smart decision to shut the fuck up before she moves away again.
"Okay, here it is." She takes a half step closer to me and holds out the book.
"I love this book and it's another quick read so you could probably blow through it tonight.
" I'm busy trying to breathe as deeply and quietly through my nose as I can, so I don't realize she's waiting for me to take it until she grabs my hand and places it on the book.
It feels like I'm touching one of those plasma ball toys, electricity zapping my skin wherever she touches it.
Is that what she feels too? She stays there, her hands sandwiched around mine and the book, eyes locked with mine for what feels like eternity.
Plot twist, it was like ten seconds.
Her lips turn up slowly, and she gives my hand a light squeeze.
"I'll be free tonight if you want to talk about it.
" She is most definitely not mad at me. Her hands are still wrapped around mine, her thumb ghosting back and forth slowly over my knuckles.
This is the most embarrassingly chaste thing that has ever left me with a hard on in my entire life. Thank fuck for thick fabric slacks.
I need to start carrying around a spray bottle for myself. No, bad dog. Stop humping the furniture.
I take a deep breath that shakes off the paralysis and wrap my free hand around hers. I’m definitely grinning like a psychopath with way too many teeth, but I can't help it.
"Thanks," I say in an exaggerated whisper, making a show of looking around cautiously for imaginary patrons we might be disturbing.
She rolls her eyes at me, but the smile stays plastered on her face.
"Unfortunately, I do have to get going," I tell her.
She sticks her bottom lip out in a pout, and I want to bite it. Damn it, where's the spray bottle?
"As much as I'd love to stay and hang out, you have work to do and I enjoy having kneecaps, which I will most likely not have if I come in late again."
"I suppose that's fair," she says with a laugh.
Then I shock us both and reach up, brushing my fingers against her cheek before sweeping a stray hair behind her ear.
I feel like I licked a defibrillator paddle.
By the stunned look on her face, I think she does too.
If I don't get out of here now, I'm never going to leave, but I'm feeling inspired to be a little bold today for some reason.
Instead of taking my hand back, I cup the side of her jaw and swipe my thumb across her cheekbone.
She visibly shivers, her eyes darting back and forth between my eyes and my mouth.
"I'll pick you up at six," I whisper, and then turn on my heel and strut up to the register. Eddie is never going to let me live this down, and I can't even bring myself to care.
It is definitely a date.
I'm so distracted by whatever that was that I almost forget to check the book for those little purple scribbles.
I thumb through some of the pages in the middle and find nothing but plain black print.
Despite the last fifteen minutes, I can't help but feel a small flash of disappointment as I hand the book to Eddie.
I glance behind me while he rings it up, desperate for one more look at her before I go.
My gaze finds her immediately. She's standing right where I left her, her finger running across her cheek right where mine had been a few minutes ago.
She's looking in my direction, but her eyes go straight through my chest, a faint smile playing at her lips.
She must feel me staring at her because she looks up suddenly, her cheeks flushing when she realizes she's been caught.
Oh, this is going to be fun. I arch an accusatory eyebrow at her, and she huffs, glancing around the store before sticking her tongue out at me and following it up with a middle finger.
I think I'm in love.
I send her a quick text as soon as I get in the car.
Hope you enjoyed the view.
When I get to work, I see that she responded with another middle finger, in emoji format this time. I stick with the emoji theme and send her back a kissing face. A bolder choice than I would normally make but I’m feeling brave. I'm getting settled at my desk when her reply comes in.
Keep it up and I will definitely kick your ass at the arcade tomorrow. No mercy.
You couldn't reach my ass if you tried, you little troublemaker.
Watch me. Spite is a powerful motivator.
Looking forward to it.
I'm beaming like an idiot, resisting the urge to kick my feet and giggle at this point.
We flirt back and forth for a bit before I finally take out my new book.
I take my notebook out with it, just in case I get some ideas.
I almost drop the book when I flip it open to see that familiar purple ink scrawled on the first page.
I know I wasn't particularly thorough when I flipped through it earlier, but there was nothing on any of these pages.
Now, almost every page is written on. The ink is bright purple, bold and clearly visible.
There's no way it was a trick of the light, and definitely no way I just missed them.
Maybe it was some kind of weird invisible ink or something?
Curiouser and fucking curiouser.
I'm not one to look a gift book in the mouth, though. I flip my notebook open to a fresh page before sitting back in my chair and starting the book. The reappearing ink situation is weird as hell, but there has to be some explanation for it that I just can’t think of at the moment.
Callie and I text back and forth throughout the night while I read, and I consider asking her about the writing. Would she think I'm insane? Or is she the one behind it? Once is a coincidence, but this is two books in a row that she's given me with the same annotations.
No, I'll wait until after our date. At least then I'll have had one good date with her outside of the bookstore before she runs screaming.
By the end of my shift, I've finished reading the book and also managed to finish tweaking my outline and start my first draft.
I was feeling particularly inspired tonight, and I think my story is really developing.
I've got some character descriptions and backstories written out with rough sketches of them in the margins.
I'm not much of an artist, but I'm particularly proud of one of them.
The blonde woman from my dream, clad in riding leathers and a fur-trimmed cloak, twin swords strapped to her back and a smirk on her face that tells the world she's survived purely out of spite. Someone recently told me it’s a powerful motivator.
I don't spend too much time thinking about why she’s my favorite.
By the time I get home, I’ve got another dozen pages or so written and I finished reading the book. I strip down and curl up in bed, setting an alarm just in case. I want to be up early tomorrow, so I have enough time to get the panic attack out of my system before I pick Callie up for the arcade.
Tonight, I dream of a battle. I'm in that little wooden village, but it's a bloody hellscape now.
Brutish men slash at us with worn swords and corner us against a flaming building.
We're surrounded, barely hanging on by a thread, when the blonde woman comes up behind the horde.
With a dagger clasped tightly in each hand, she sneaks up behind the bandits two at a time before sinking a blade into their throats.
They fall silently, one by one, and half of them are bloody heaps on the ground before the rest even realize she's there.
Now that her cover is blown, she tosses the daggers into the ground before me and pulls a longsword from a sheath on her back.
She takes on the remaining bandits with expert strikes, moving so fast that they can barely keep up.
I yank the daggers from the ground and come in behind the horde to assist, and we clear the battlefield together.
She's strong and fast and more skilled than I could ever hope to be.
She wipes a hand across her bloody face, and I can't help but think she's the most radiant creature I've ever seen.
Like an avenging angel. She takes a step towards me and graces me with a blinding smile.
She opens her mouth to say something, but I wake up just before the words come out.