Chapter 13
Wyatt: Where are you, friend?
Arthur: You never miss bagel day.
Orion: Let us know what’s up.
Janet: …
New Message
Janet: Drew, are you okay?
No call. No show. For the first time in my life, I ditched work to avoid the deluge of impending questions.
No amount of courage would let me stare down the accusing glances disguised as concern.
Instead, I spent the day in bed, replaying last night on a dreadful loop.
It always ended with eyes filled with disgust.
Inhaling the scent of fresh ink and pulp, I shoved my phone into my pocket.
At least there was one person who wouldn’t ask questions.
Standing at the entrance, I watched as Booker bobbed his way through the sci-fi section of the bookstore.
He danced from one shelf to the next, as if the speakers blasted rock and roll.
The rest of the world couldn’t violate this space, not with him in his natural habitat.
He bent over, inspecting a book and giving me the perfect view of his ass.
I wove through the displays and stood behind him. No way I’d interrupt this show.
“You’re going to keep staring, aren’t you?” Dammit. He must have seen me coming.
“That was the plan.”
He shot upright. “Here I thought you were a gentleman.” If only he knew. I couldn’t dwell on the thought as he smiled. The peck on the cheek kept me here, in the bookstore, with him. “I’m glad you’re not.”
“I’m sorry about last night. Something urgent came up.”
“It was worth the wait.” His lip curled as he slathered on the flattery.
As my face turned red, I stole a glance at the book in his hand. Spaceships and explosions? “I thought you were reading classics?”
He glanced at the paperback in his hand. “It can’t be all homework.”
I reached past him to a tome on the shelf. “I like these.” The fantasy book had golden sprayed edges and a dark magenta cover. The silver foil on the cover caught the overhead lights.
He held up his book. “I never buy them. You read them. They’re done. Then you donate them to the library.”
“Well, I think they’re pretty.”
Booker ferreted out a person’s darkest secret in the interrogation room.
He didn’t realize that in one statement he had revealed volumes.
If his relationships were like his reading habits, once we finished at Synergy, he’d move on.
I tried not to overthink it, but part of me feared this comfort between us would evaporate.
I didn’t want to be sold at the library yard sale when we finished.
“Ready to help me pick out the next classic?” He took my hand, squeezing it as our fingers interlocked. “I can’t deal with another Alice in Wonderland.”
I didn’t have a chance to savor the heat from his hand as he pulled me along. It’d have been easier to walk single-file, but he wouldn’t let go. A woman in a comfy chair in the romance section looked over her book, smiling as she spotted us. Her expression matched the sensation in my chest.
We stood at the bookshelf filled with classics. It was as if I were back in school. I would have never read them on my own, but I’m glad I did. I started pointing at potential purchases.
“The Catcher in the Rye?”
“The movie ruined it.”
“Gone with the Wind?”
“That’s a book?” My eyes went wide, and he chuckled. “I’m kidding.”
“Moby Dick?”
He snickered. “Maybe.”
“Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.”
“I can’t. Fence painting reminds me of my childhood.”
I stepped in front of him. “For a man who doesn’t read classics, you know an awful lot about the plots.”
“Mrs. Klinger’s tests weren’t easy. I didn’t read them, but I still had to pass English.”
“What about this?” My finger danced over the different editions of Frankenstein until I reached the paperback. “If you like dark, gothic horror.” It wasn’t nearly as impressive as the hardback editions. He took it, looking over the writing on the back.
“I was never a fan.”
“You’ve read it?”
Of all the books he avoided in high school, this was the one that caught his attention?
It had been decades since I read it, but I remember empathizing with the monster.
Created against its will and destroyed because the townspeople misunderstood their creation.
If I were being honest with myself, I didn’t just empathize; I saw myself, a stitched-together version of different people.
“I hated the ending,” he said.
I hated how closely it mirrored reality.
The monster didn’t have a choice but to be anything but what it was.
Frankenstein was the villain of the story, the townspeople, too.
I thought of Janet’s face, the disappointment etched in every line.
Would they come for me with fire and pitchforks if they discovered my own monster?
“Frankenstein’s monster didn’t need judgment.” I realized I had dropped my eyes, fixated on the dark orange carpet. “Everybody was too quick to label him. A little patience, and maybe they’d have seen beneath the surface.”
It was a wonderful sentiment in theory. Unfortunately, people didn’t have that kind of patience.
My impending downward spiral crashed against a thought…
a text. “I’ll be waiting.” My brain tried to pound its way through with brute force, but my heart held firm.
I should have left it alone, but I needed to hear the conclusion of our future.
“Do you think they would have accepted the creature—” I blurted out the rest. “—if he’d shown them who he was from the start?”
Booker lowered the book, thinking about his answer. His lips pursed while he processed his answer. “I don’t know.” That didn’t bode well. “We all have our monsters.” Some of us are scarier and more gruesome than others. “I think they would have, eventually.”
“Really?” I couldn’t hide the surprise on my face. At this point, he must have thought I had an obsession with the novel.
“Are you going to read it with me?”
“What?”
“If we’re going to discuss books, we might as well read them together.”
The knot in my stomach eased. This had nothing to do with our mission at Synergy.
Booker wanted to make plans… for the future?
While I was processing, he put Frankenstein back on the shelf.
His fingers tapped the spines as he moved through the different editions.
He chewed his bottom lip as he tried to decide.
“These two.” He pulled two hardbacks from the shelf. The leather covers were slightly different, both with the title in shiny foil. He inspected them before handing me the dark blue copy with silver letters. “It’s pretty.”
I held it in my hand, my fingers tracing the grooves of the leather.
I focused on the shimmer, afraid that if I looked up at him, he’d see the tears in the corners of my eyes.
It wasn’t a book about a monster; it was a promise.
To what? I didn’t know, but Booker investing in something that wouldn’t wind up in a yard sale had my gratitude trapped in the back of my throat.
“Let’s go.”
We wandered toward the front of the store and stood in line at the register.
My romance reader waited ahead of us, smiling in my direction before turning forward again.
The next glance, she leaned back and whispered, “You two are adorable. Just like my book.” She held it up, the cover showing two men embracing.
Booker’s hand bumped against mine. It’d have been a happy accident until his pinky continued caressing my thumb. A registered freed up, and the woman moved forward. I couldn’t help but give him a grin.
“You could be a cover model.”
He moved behind me, arms wrapped around my chest. “Quick, look off into the distance,” he said. We held the pose for a moment. “More longing,” he demanded. It was hard to focus on longing while I had a beautiful man’s arms wrapped around me.
“Next.”
“Nope, not yet,” Booker said, still holding his position.
I snickered as the teenager behind the counter rolled his eyes.
Booker slid around me, getting to the counter first. He dropped his book on the counter.
While the kid scanned the book, Booker gave me an odd look.
At this point, every look from him made me blush.
Before I could say anything, he snatched Frankenstein from my hands.
“On me.”
“But…”
“My treat.” He flashed his credit card as if he were rolling in dough. “My good sir.”
Sir? The kid let out an exasperated sigh. Apparently, he didn’t appreciate chivalry. I wanted to give Booker a handshake as thanks. A hug? Brownies? I ran through a laundry list of ways I could repay him. What if I—
Stopped?
I met those stunning green eyes. I wanted to grab him by the beard and kiss those beautiful lips. For the moment, I’d spare our annoyed cashier. “Thanks.”
“My pleasure.”
Card scanned, the kid handed Booker two identical bags. “Next!”
We waited until we reached the front door.
As he pushed through, he handed me a bag containing a hardbound copy about a misunderstood monster that needed patience.
Instead of taking it, I grabbed him by the t-shirt and pulled him against me.
I mushed my lips against his. Before I could pull away, his teeth caught my bottom lip, holding me in place.
“My pleasure, indeed,” he whispered.
I didn’t want the kiss to end. Could we go back inside and look for more books? As much as I wanted to continue the night, nothing could top his gift.
“It’s getting late,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
Reality came crashing in. Seeing Booker tomorrow meant going into the office. I needed to put on a brave face and risk running into people from Secret Identities. I’d deal with that tomorrow. Tonight, I wanted to lose myself in a story of a misunderstood creature.
“Bright and early,” I said.
With a final smirk, he turned and walked away. I couldn’t wait to go home and replay every event of tonight. The thought of tomorrow should have filled me with anxiety. Instead, all I could focus on were stolen moments when I’d be able to kiss those delicious lips again.
Until then… Frankenstein.
At night, Vanguard sang.