Chapter 12
I FOUGHT OFF THE URGE to dive underneath Edith’s desk, to run down the nearest aisle, to be anywhere but where I was standing, right in Noah’s line of sight. My eyes flew back to Edith and her desk just as quickly as they’d landed on Noah.
Was he looking at me? I risked a small glance. Our eyes met for a split second. Perhaps he had an impressive poker face, but his eyes didn’t betray any recognition—as if he didn’t even remember me.
Did he have no idea who I was? The thought was equal parts offensive and comforting. I quickly ripped my gaze away. Heat poured over my body like hot lava.
What on earth was he doing here, in my bookstore? In all my years in Avila Falls, I’d never once spotted him at And Then There Were Books. And tonight he randomly stopped by?
Without saying a word, Noah quickly made his way to march right by us before Edith stopped him.
“Hello, young man,” she chirped.
Noah stopped dead in his tracks, his head slowly turning to look at Edith. I stood still so as not to draw any attention to myself, but I couldn’t help but steal a look at him.
His eyes were as piercing and blue as ever, the red plaid button-down he wore highlighting them even more. They were the same eyes I’d wished would look my way all those years ago in high school. But something about them was different. What was it?
“Oh, hi,” he said, his expression surprised.
“Can I help you find something?”
“No, not tonight, thank you. I’m just looking.” I couldn’t help but take note of how much deeper his voice had gotten. It was a man’s voice. He turned to walk away before Edith stopped him once more.
“Just pop your phone in here. New policy,” she said, pulling a small metal box out from behind the counter. “Too many personal conversations occurring in these aisles.”
Noah looked from the box to Edith and back to the box before he reluctantly placed his phone inside. Edith grinned, locked the box, slipped the key into her pocket, and returned the box to its home.
“Back on your way, dear.”
He shoved his hands into his leather jacket pockets and walked off as I switched my phone to silent. I loved Edith, but I wasn’t about to part ways with my lifeline, my single point of connection to my real life.
“Well, this is a busier night than usual,” Edith said, making eyes at me as Noah rounded a corner and disappeared. As long as he was inside, the entire bookstore was no longer safe territory. I searched for a reason to stay with Edith, desperate to stay as far away from him as possible.
“Mm. So you finally made the phone rule, huh?” I remarked. Edith had often expressed sadness about the way technology had changed the world and humans. “We used to look each other in the eyes, not stare at screens all day,” she’d always say.
“Well, I really had to put my foot down at the town meeting. Everyone under the age of fifty was not pleased.” She shook her head. “I had to insist. A store policy is a store policy. But I like to think my scones had something to do with convincing the town of that.”
“Well, I’m not surprised,” I chuckled. “Those scones could get the Capulets and the Montagues to rethink things.”
Edith laughed. “Well, don’t let me keep you. Go browse, sweetheart.”
And just like that, my excuse for remaining in the secure bubble that was Edith’s desk was gone. I had no choice but to venture out.
“I’ll be quick tonight. Looking for a gift.”
I did a quick once-over of the bookstore, searching for a corner to hide in. Noah was nowhere to be seen. Where had he gone?
I peered into the closest aisle. Empty. I hurried in.
A few deep breaths steadied my heartbeat and gave me time to reflect on how ridiculous my reaction to Noah Elliot’s presence was. What was I, a high schooler?
I forced my thoughts to return to the matter at hand: securing a gift for my mom. My eyes scanned the shelves in the hopes that something would pop out at me. I couldn’t waste too much time here.
I turned the corner. All clear. I relaxed my shoulders. Maybe Noah was just stopping in for the bathroom. Maybe he wasn’t planning on staying long. Maybe I’d been overdramatic.
I stealthily pulled my phone out of my pocket as I rounded another corner and felt something—no, someone—crash into me.
“Ah!” I yelled, jerking backward.
Noah’s face was mere inches from mine. “Oh, whoa—”
I froze in place for what felt like a full minute before whirling around to hurry in the opposite direction, taking off as if I had just floored the gas pedal.
“Hey, wait. I’m sorry,” he said before I could get away.
“No, it’s—you’re not,” I stuttered. What had I just said? What was I even trying to say? My grasp of the English language, the very thing I typically prided myself on, had suddenly evaded me.
“Sorry, what?”
I was asking myself the same question.
“Or, sorry, I meant—you don’t—it’s fine,” I barely managed, giving up halfway. A rewind button or an invisibility cloak would’ve come in handy right about now.
Time stood still as I gazed at Noah. I caught a hint of his cologne, a musky cedarwood scent, and realized this was the closest I’d ever been to him—save for the chocolate milk incident all those years ago. My stomach flipped at the thought.
“Okay . . .?” He squinted. A few moments of silence hung heavy in the air as we stared at each other awkwardly.
“I’ve got to—” I took off before even finishing my sentence. I couldn’t take it. Not another moment. Not with the way Noah was looking at me with such bewilderment. I had to get away.
I flicked on the bathroom light and locked the door behind me, my heart racing as if I were the protagonist in a thriller novel who had just escaped from the claws of the killer—and not merely run into an unrequited crush from years ago. What was wrong with me?
Breathe, Jane. In, out . . . in, out . . .
After a few minutes, I fished my phone out of my pocket. 7:31. I needed to get a move on. But I also needed to let enough time pass for Noah to hopefully disappear for good. I searched for a way to keep my mind occupied for the next few minutes.
Before I knew it, my fingers had opened Instagram. I couldn’t keep myself from doing what I did next. My curiosity couldn’t be stifled.
Noah’s profile appeared as soon as I’d finished typing his name.
327 followers. None mutual (no surprise there, considering I didn’t follow anyone from Avila High).
A cross in his bio (intriguing, considering he had never been one of the youth group kids).
A simple profile picture of him on a stage, playing his guitar. So he hadn’t given up on music, then.
My palms sweated profusely as I tapped on his most recent post from a month ago, a picture of him with a golden retriever.
I scrolled down gingerly with the precision and care of a professional defusing a bomb.
One accidental slip of the finger, and I’d risk liking a post or following him and making everything much worse than I already had.
He didn’t post very often—just a few pictures down, I was already looking at a post from nine months ago.
I couldn’t put my finger on what had changed about Noah. There was a touch of sadness in his eyes that hadn’t been there back when we were teenagers. Had he just gotten older? Or was it something else?
Minutes later, my eyes floated up to the time. Surely it had been long enough by now. I moved for the door and paused, peeking at my reflection in the mirror.
I hastily smoothed down my hair, straightened my top. Just in case.
It was in the middle of dabbing on a little extra lipstick that it dawned on me how silly this picture was: me, a grown woman with a high-paying job, an impressive résumé, and an important life in New York, primping for a guy who’d never exchanged more than three words with me—and didn’t even seem to remember me either.
I rolled my eyes at myself and tucked my lipstick away.
Trying to look pretty for Noah Elliot. Honestly, Jane.
That was it. I wasn’t going to let him have any more power over me.
This wasn’t the halls of Avila High. He was the one who was out of place in this bookstore, not me.
Not to mention, there were bigger things to worry about than his skulking around here.
I flung open the bathroom door with my head held high and strutted out.