Chapter 35 Poppy
R unning my makeup brush over my cheek, I add the final touches to my look for the evening. Standing up and moving to my full length mirror, I brush my hands over my outfit. It was expertly chosen by Andi over the course of an hour-long video call. It’s hard to know how to dress for your date when you don’t actually know where you’re going. I fiddle with my earrings for a bit longer before heading downstairs. Is it even a date? We had said as friends, but it feels like a date.
After our spontaneous kiss at his apartment, Owen and I decided that he got to pick the next date since running was my thing to begin with. My mind wanders as I try to think about what he might choose and realize that aside from coffee and teaching English, I don’t know much about his hobbies.
A knock on the door pulls me from my thoughts. Opening the door, my gaze lands on the huge bouquet of flowers in his hands. “Thank you so much, that was sweet.”
Owen steps into the room as I grab a vase for the flowers. He looks nice . “You’re welcome. In our family we tend to bring flowers to any occasion.” He laughs like it’s a joke and I don’t quite understand. “My dad is a florist.”
“Oh, that makes sense. Well, I love them. Are you taking me to Bobbi’s for our date?” I ask him quizzically. “I already know you like coffee.”
He scoffs at my question, but reaches down to grab my hand as we head out of my house and walk towards the boardwalk to officially begin our date. We had said as friends but I called it a date earlier and he seemed to go with it.
“I’m not taking you to Bobbi’s.” He gives my hand a squeeze, and we keep walking together in comfortable silence. The weather seems to have finally turned to fall and the ocean is responding in turn. Where just a few days earlier bright sun and warm mist crested onto the boardwalk, today a gray sky blankets the cold water.
I pull my sweater closer to me and smooth down the front of my dress, then fiddle with the clasp on my purse. Calm down.
“We’re here. You chose running, and I chose books. I know it’s a little cliche for an English teacher, but I can’t help it.” The browns of his eyes dance, reflecting the lights from the bookstore window.
“It’s not cliche, I love that you enjoy reading.”
His smile brings some warmth to my face before we head inside. I’ve been by Honey Cove Books a few times over the years, but am excited to explore it more with Owen. “After you,” he says, holding the door open for me like a gentleman.
He says hi to the shop owner as we walk in. He’s clearly been here before. I recognize Grace from school—I think she was a few years younger than me—and wave as he leads me farther back into the building. Shelves and shelves of books line the rows and the smell of old paper and leather hangs in the air.
“This is my favorite section,” Owen declares proudly.
My eyes catch on the plaque that says “fantasy” before looking back at him in shock. “I had you pegged as a poetry kind of reader.”
“Now why would you say that?” I move closer to him under the guise of looking over a shelf of books, but lean back into him as I shift in between him and the bookshelf. I’m continually shocking myself with how forward I am with him. What felt uncomfortable and awkward with others, somehow feels natural with him.
He leans down, lips skating against the curve of my ear, sending my heart into a frenzy at the feel of his warm breath along my neck. Definitely a date. “Just thought that seemed more the English teacher type, that’s all. What genre would you guess is mine?”
Turning around, we’re inches from each other. He leans forward, placing a hand on either side of me against the shelf to my back. “I just have one question before I can say with certainty.”
“Yes?” I say, breathless and exasperated at how much this trip to the bookstore is turning me on.
“Where is your favorite place to be?”
“Honey Cove.” No question in my mind.
“Really?” he moves farther away from me, clearly surprised.
“Of course, you seem surprised?”
“I just thought with you traveling and your love of photography, that you might prefer somewhere else. Somewhere different.” He starts walking down the aisle again, clearly leading me to our next section. I miss the feel of his arms around me, but don’t mind his arm slung casually around my shoulders either.
“I love Honey Cove. I do love to travel, but Honey Cove is home. ”
He waves his hand as he stops by another sign. “Your genre, my dear.”
“How did you know?” We’re standing by the autobiographies and he looks very proud of himself.
“You like to travel, but like to be able to return to Honey Cove. You like a taste of what’s out there. You like to look at things through a lens or through how others see things.” He says it so nonchalantly like it’s the easiest thing to see in the world. My face drops.
“Is that how you see me?”
“I meant it in the sense that you are a homebody. You look at things through other peoples’ eyes because you already know yourself and know what you think. You already have that part figured out,” he trails off. “That’s what I meant.”
Hooking my hand back in his and looking into his warm face, I nod. I am not sure anyone has quite put it that way before.
“And, I saw you carrying one when you got to Andi’s house that day of her and Brandon’s wedding.” He lets out a quiet laugh as I pretend to push him.
“You cheated then!”
“No, I would have known anyway.”
“Oh yeah, how?”
“Because I already feel like I know you. You are always true to yourself. You say what you mean and you are clearly in love with this town and those you care about. You look at things through a lens, yes, but it’s because you’re finding the beauty in what is out there. Books like that are always about the things people love and what’s made them who they are, finding the beauty in the hard to reach places.”
My breath catches as he pulls me closer to him. Standing up on my tiptoes, I silently curse my choice to wear flats today, I lean forward to kiss him and feel him envelop me in his arms. I don’t know if I’ve ever felt so seen by someone before and it feels a bit unnerving. If this is what a first date with Owen is like, my heart better buckle in for the next.