Chapter Four A Hater of True Love
The next day after school, I head straight to the bookstore instead of going home or to Cosmic Vintage.
Second Story Books is on the same side of the street as the flower shop and across the street from Cosmic Vintage.
It’s a small dark, overstuffed store, which, despite the name, is on the first floor of an old building.
I think the store is incredibly romantic, with the smell of old books and all the hidden corners.
Come to think of it, it would be a perfect place for a meet-cute among the bookstacks.
But no. I’m not looking for a meet-cute anymore.
My focus is only on the Love Street project.
Reggie bought the bookstore a few years ago, and he immediately increased the history and historical fiction sections.
He also started carrying a small selection of used records.
He, unfortunately, got rid of the meager romance selection, which was probably for the best since the only romances in the store back then were old paperbacks with questionable consent in them.
I was disappointed that he didn’t curate a better romance section, though.
But now I’m the one who gets to pick books for Second Story Books’ new and improved romance section, and I couldn’t be more excited.
The bell on the door chimes as I walk in, and Reggie smiles warmly at me from the counter.
He once told me he used to be in finance before buying this store.
I can’t see it—this man was born to be a librarian or bookstore owner.
He’s like… an aging cinnamon roll romance hero.
“Ah. Sana, lovely to see you on this gloomy day. You always brighten a room.”
I beam at him. I’m wearing a pink and blue floral minidress, with blue tights and a white cardigan today. My hair’s up in a curly ponytail. “Hi, Reggie! I love that jacket. No one wears tweed like you! I’m not working at Cosmic today. Can I look at those romance books now?”
“Ah, yes! Your timing is impeccable.” He comes out from behind the counter.
“I have Miles going through the auction lot right now in the back room. He’s sorting the books by genre, so it should take you no time to scan through the romances and find the ones worthy of my shop.
Look! I’ve already made a sign for the section!
” He shows me a small wood frame with a white paper in it that simply says ROMANCE in neat printing.
The wood on the frame is the same shade as the shelving and the wood floors.
“Perfect!” This is going to be fun. I adore going through old stuff looking for treasures. “Who’s Miles?”
“My new part-time employee.” Reggie guides me through the maze of overstuffed bookshelves with that intoxicating old-paper scent toward the back room.
“He just finished his first year of university. Smart young man—he’s a big history buff.
Miles is helping me modernize this whole operation.
We’re expanding the online bookstore, too.
” Reggie pushes open the door at the back of the shop.
“You may have met him at the BOA meeting? But there were so many people there! This little community is very loyal. It’s wonderful to see that much engagement. ”
The first thing I notice in the storeroom is shelves filled with even more books. Practically enough to fill an entire store again.
Then I notice a person, Miles, I assume, sitting on a step stool with a box of books in front of him.
And dammit. Miles is the Pink Chai Guy . Because of course he is. My upper lip involuntarily curls into a shocked expression.
“Miles, Sana’s here to go through the romance books,” Reggie says. “She’s been after me to carry more kissing books, and with this Love on Love Street promotion, there’s no better time!”
Pink Chai Guy— Miles —blinks at me like he’s never seen me before in his life even though we had a literal conversation about tea at LoveBug two days ago.
“Hopefully there are enough gems in this lot to fill a few shelves up front,” Reggie continues. “Miles can show you the process. You two will be great together!” Reggie leaves the storeroom.
This is fine, just dandy. Whatever. Maybe it’s an opportunity to redo that terrible first meeting with the guy.
He could have been having a bad day and is not normally a total douche nozzle.
And there’s no reason I should be as rude as he was then anyway.
Shaking off my shock, I walk toward him, smiling.
“Hi! I’m Sana Merali! I think we got off on the wrong foot when we met at LoveBug.
I work at Cosmic Vintage, and I’m volunteering on the Love Street rebrand project. ”
The guy stares at me blankly for several long moments.
This is the closest I’ve been to him, and yep, unfortunately he’s still as cute as he was the first time I saw him.
Actually, he’s one step above cute even; Miles is downright hot.
He’s wearing jeans and a yellow Second Story Books T-shirt, and up close his warm brown skin is clear and smooth.
His hair is silky and rich black and looks like he just ran his hands through it.
And he smells clean… and… yummy. Like cardamom and rose water.
I wonder if he had another pink chai this afternoon.
His eyes sweep over me. Starting from my black Mary Jane shoes, up my legs and dress, before finally landing on my glossy pink nails with big red hearts painted on them. I can’t tell if his expression is approval or derision, but it’s unnerving either way. This guy has a very intense gaze.
“I’m Miles Desai,” he finally says. He’s not quite smiling, but he doesn’t look annoyed with me. He almost looks… pleasant. Did I just feel a spark when our eyes met?
I give Miles my best smile, so glad that I’m wearing my new favorite pink lip gloss. “So nice to formally meet you! This is going to be fun. I’m a huge romance reader.”
My mind starts racing with possibilities.
Maybe that meeting on Saturday was a meet-cute after all.
An enemies-to-lovers, opposites-attract kind of meet-cute.
Or maybe this, sorting romance novels together in a dusty bookstore, is our perfect meet-cute.
We have so much in common! We work on the same street and both for businesses that are great for sustainable consumption.
We both like Reggie. I know I decided not to manifest a meet-cute right now, but maybe a meet-cute found me anyway.
Right here in the back of Second Story Books.
I put my hand out to shake his, and he drops a big stack of books into it.
My other hand scrambles to catch the books before they fall, but two paperbacks drop to the worn wood floor with a thud.
He doesn’t even flinch at the noise. “These are romances. The rest are in those boxes over there.” He points to a stack of boxes in the corner.
“I have no clue if any of them are popular or have a chance of selling, but you can connect to the store Wi-Fi if you want to look up any titles. I’ll be here sorting the rest of the auction lot.
” He tells me the name of the website the store uses to determine resale value, so I can look up whether a book is worth keeping or not.
Then he turns away from me and picks up a book from the box in front of him.
Okay, definitely not a meet-cute. That’s fine.
I pick up the fallen books. At least he’s not being condescending, so this is still an improvement over Saturday.
I touch the heart locket around my neck.
I can’t let myself get carried away and forget the reason I’m here: to work on rebranding Love Street.
Wait . What did Reggie say earlier? “Love on Love Street”—a great name for our promotion.
I make a mental note to mention Reggie’s suggestion at our first committee meeting.
I pull over another step stool to sit on, plant myself in front of the boxes of romances, and start going through the books.
“Oh my goodness!” I say after a few seconds.
These books are… good. Lots of new and popular books, all in excellent condition.
Some older ones, too—but all romance classics.
I don’t need to look up the value. I know these books will sell.
Romance readers will love them. “This is an awesome collection! There’s a BBC miniseries tie-in copy of Pride and Prejudice !
Colin Firth on the cover and everything!
I’m buying this.” I put the book aside. “This is, like, my favorite book ever. So amazing.”
Miles glances my way for a second, then turns back to whatever he’s doing. Man of few words, it seems. “There are some fantastic books here,” I say. “Where did Reggie get these?”
“He bought them from an estate auction. A rich lady died, and I guess her family didn’t want her library full of books. Looks like she didn’t even read many of them.”
“Goodness! I hope she didn’t suffer! Not getting to read her books would be painful enough.” I’d assumed Reggie bought the stock of a store that closed—not someone’s personal collection.
Miles looks at me with his eyebrows raised. “Did you say ‘goodness’?”
“Yes. What’s wrong with ‘goodness’?”
“Nothing. Never heard someone under the age of fifty use that word, that’s all. Guess it goes with your clothes, though.”
Is he seriously insulting my outfit? I mean, it’s likely that the original owner of this dress is now over fifty. But there’s nothing wrong with that.
I will not let this guy get under my skin. I give him a tight smile, then go back to the box of books. It feels sad now, knowing that someone bought all these and died before she could read them. I hope my To Be Read list doesn’t outlive me.
“How did she die?” I ask.
“I don’t know. Natural causes probably.”
“Maybe we should dedicate the romance section to her,” I say, brushing my thumb over the cover of one of the books. I feel Miles watching me. “What?”