Chapter Five
The following Monday was like second summer. Temps in the mid seventies, sunshine, a lovely warm breeze. Complain all you want about upstate New York winters, but the fall was simply gorgeous.
Sawyer pulled into the driveway at about five thirty after a day of meetings that were largely an unproductive waste of her time, and she was still feeling a bit frustrated about that as she approached the house and saw Jenna sitting in her loveseat, a glass of what looked like iced tea on the table next to her, Arnold waiting with his tail wagging his entire body.
The baby gate was across the entryway, and Jenna took her time setting her book down and releasing it so Sawyer could step onto the porch.
“Hi there,” she said, trying to sound somewhat cheerful.
“Hey,” Jenna said, refastening the gate, then returning to her seat.
At least Arnold seemed happy to see her, and she squatted down and gave him some pets.
When nothing more came from Jenna, she stood and slid her key into the lock, pushed her door open, and stepped inside.
She set her stuff down and was about to close the door when instead, she pulled it open again and pushed through the storm door back out onto the porch.
Because enough was enough, and she’d already had a shitty day. Why not add to it?
“Have I done something to offend you?” The question spilled from her mouth before she thought about it, before she could stop and think about it.
Jenna took a beat, Sawyer was sure of it, before slowly turning to meet her gaze. “I’m sorry?”
“I mean, it’s very clear that you don’t like me, but I can’t for the life of me figure out what I did to you to make you feel that way.
Was it the cars on the day I moved in? ’Cause I apologized for that.
Am I too loud? I find that hard to believe because I’m pretty freaking quiet, but maybe.
Is it because I’m gay? ’Cause if that’s it, then maybe you need to do some self-reflection. ”
“You’re gay?” Jenna’s brow furrowed, kind of adorably, but Sawyer shook that off.
“Yes. Thus the rainbow sticker on my car.” She pointed in the general direction.
“I didn’t realize.”
“Okay, so that’s not it.”
Jenna blinked and stared for a moment, and Sawyer could almost see her reach deep and find her irritation again.
“What do you do for a living?” Jenna asked her, somewhat carefully, and the question seemed so out of place, given the conversation, that Sawyer stared for a moment, needing time to pivot and readjust.
“I’m a technical writer for a software company. Why?”
“Cool. Now ask me what I do for a living.”
Where the hell was this going? Sawyer pursed her lips for a moment, then said, “Hey, Jenna, what do you do for a living?” Yes, she was slightly sarcastic. It was kind of warranted, really.
“I own a bookshop,” Jenna said, her eyes flashing. “Now ask me what kind of bookshop.”
Uh-oh.
Sawyer wet her lips. “What kind of bookshop?”
“A romance-only bookshop.” Shit. “Wanna guess what it’s called?”
Sawyer gazed off the porch and toward the big tree out front and took a moment. She wanted to take about a hundred, but… Without looking at Jenna, she wrinkled her nose and asked, “Is it called BookLove?”
“It is. What a lucky guess.”
Sawyer blew out a breath and looked down at her feet. There was a scuff on her right shoe, near the toe. “Look, I’m—”
“No.” Jenna held up a hand. “Nope. You are totally within your rights to hate the romance genre. Believe me, you’re not the first person I’ve had a debate with about it.
But you didn’t just trash romance, you trashed my shop.
That store is my baby, and you just…mocked it.
” She seemed to run out of steam, then, and sat back in her seat.
Poor Arnold sat on the floor looking from his mom to Sawyer and back, like he was a spectator at Wimbledon.
“I…” Ugh. Sawyer sighed and tried again. “Look. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have trashed your shop. You’re right. That wasn’t cool of me. But…”
Jenna arched one eyebrow at her, waiting. Almost daring, it seemed.
“I mean, don’t you think some of what I said is right, though?” Jesus, Sawyer, what the hell are you doing? her brain shrieked at her. Shut up!
“Seriously?” Jenna’s tone wasn’t one of anger or irritation. It was, if Sawyer had to put a word to it, almost bored.
“Well, yeah. I mean, romance is pretty unrealistic. Don’t you think?
And so formulaic, my God. The meet-cute where boy meets girl, the obstacles, overcoming the obstacles only to have a bigger obstacle—usually a huge misunderstanding—happen, then the make-up scene and the happily ever after. Whose life is like that?”
“Yeah, I read your blog. You don’t need to summarize it for me.”
Sawyer cleared her throat. “Sorry.”
“First of all, name me a genre that isn’t formulaic.
Formula is essentially the blueprint for almost any story of fiction.
Secondly, for your information, romance is meant as an escape.
Is it unrealistic? Maybe. Sometimes. Sure.
But readers know that. They expect it. They want it.
Real life is hard enough. Have you seen the shit show of a world we live in right now?
What’s wrong with wanting to see two people fall in love and ride off into the sunset together? Why is that something to scoff at?”
Sawyer stood there, blinking at her. Most people on the other end of this debate either waved her off or ended up agreeing with her. Such a passionate defense was…unexpected. Interesting.
“And for your information—you may or may not know this, Ms. Book Blogger—but the saying in publishing is ‘romance keeps the lights on.’ ” Jenna made the air quotes with her fingers.
“It outsells all the other genres combined. If you ever decide to come down from your high horse and give a romance a try, let me know. I’m kind of an expert in the field and would be happy to suggest a few titles.
” And with that, she picked her book back up—a romance, of course, judging by the couple on the cover—stretched her feet out to the railing, crossed them at the ankle, and began to read and ignore Sawyer completely.
A second or two passed and Jenna turned a page, and then Sawyer was able to make herself move. With a clearing of her throat and a slight wave of shame that washed over her, she turned and went inside, closing the door behind her and leaning back against it.
Wow.
Jenna Murphy had handed her her ass.
That was so embarrassing.
So why was she standing there with a smile on her face?
Then she went inside and I sat there shaking for the next ten minutes.
Jenna was under the covers in her bed, Arnold curled up next to her hip, Wallace between her knees, and Gromit on the other pillow, as she texted in the group thread with Dakota and Veronica and told them about her run-in with Sawyer.
Guuuuuuurl! Dakota typed back. I am so freaking proud of you!
Ronni was next and sent a string of celebration emoji: champagne, fireworks, party horns.
Jenna’s fingers flew over the keyboard on her phone.
I was just so mad, you guys. Like, how dare she?
WTF? But even as she typed it, her brain reminded her of the flash of pain in Sawyer’s eyes.
Not that she didn’t deserve the takedown—she absolutely did.
But it wasn’t something Jenna did often: lambasting another person.
While she was proud of herself for standing up, she didn’t necessarily feel good about it afterward.
As she sat there, recalling the look in Sawyer’s eyes—her soul-searing, felt-like-they-saw-too-much, really pretty eyes—she remembered the other part of the discussion and typed out OMG! I forgot the craziest part!
Dakota’s message came through. It gets crazier?
It does…she’s gay! Jenna sent, followed by several rainbow emoji, just to emphasize the point.
Ronni sent another string of emoji, this time all the same: the wide-eyed one. It made Jenna laugh. Right? she texted. I managed not to show my surprise, but I was!
The gray dots bounced in two rows, telling her both of her friends were typing, and she sat there smiling, waiting for the messages. They came one after the other.
What are the odds of that? Dakota sent.
You should ask her out, came Ronni’s message.
Then Dakota added, You totally should!
Jenna snorted a laugh. Please. If she didn’t hate me before, she certainly does now.
Also, I can’t date somebody who mocks my favorite thing in the world.
That’s not a good person. You know? And after she sent that text, she sat in the quiet of her room and blew out a sad breath.
She had initially thought Sawyer Hall was nice.
Arnold liked her, and that was always a good sign.
But people who crapped all over things that others loved were one of Jenna’s least favorite kinds of people.
No, she’d never match with somebody like Sawyer Hall.
She’d be civil, because she was a nice person, but that was it.
Sawyer’s face materialized in Jenna’s mind for about the fifteenth time that evening. The dark hair. The blue eyes behind the black-rimmed glasses. The full lips and straight teeth. “God,” Jenna whispered, “why does she have to be so pretty?”
Ah, well. She’d just have to settle for watching from afar, because Sawyer would certainly be keeping her distance now. She’d pretty much made sure of that.
Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything, she typed.
The responses were instant enough to make her laugh out loud in her bedroom.
Here we go, said Dakota.
And the second-guessing begins, right on time. That was Ronni. What happened to being proud of yourself for defending the thing you love?
Jenna frowned and typed, I know. You’re right. It’s just…we’re neighbors. It’s gonna be weird now.
Just avoid her. Dakota, being unrealistically pragmatic.
We live in the same house, duh.
Dakota’s response to that was a GIF of somebody peering out their window with binoculars.