Aidan
“Want to get some food?” Charlotte asks me with a yawn an hour later. We’ve finished the petition. It’s live on and posted on social media.
“Cool. There are some sandwiches downstairs, or we can pop over to Little Bennett’s. Any thoughts?”
“Um, I don’t know,” I reply. “Do we want to get some signatures first?”
“Yes! Let’s get everyone here to sign it.
” She grins and touches my forearm. Her fingers grip my skin and warmth seeps down through my muscles and into my bones.
She jumps up from her seat and dashes around the café, asking everyone to sign it: the family of small children in the corner, the couple sitting by the window, and Nicole and the other barista, a tall guy named Liam with a thick blond bun.
I follow like a lovestruck little puppy, smiling as she flits from group to group, her ponytail swaying back and forth.
Fuck, she is so freaking cute right now.
“Eight signatures down,” Charlotte declares with pride when we’ve finished and grips my shoulder. “This needs celebration! Should we get drinks from Little Bennett’s? It’s five o’clock somewhere.”
“Oh, uh, I have grading.” It’s not a lie.
I do have grading. I always have grading.
One of my classes just completed a poetry writing project, and I need to get the grades done before I get buried in planning for my finals.
Little Bennett’s means crowds. I don’t like crowds. “But I do want to celebrate.”
I expect her to be disappointed or upset. I wait for her face to fall and her mouth to frown. But she smiles and says in a bright voice, “No worries. Let’s go to the bookstore. We can order pizza from Johnny’s. You can grade while we wait.”
My heart soars. “I can grade in the bookstore?”
“Yeah. People come in just to read. It’s great!”
I beam down at her. I want to say, That’s a dream come true. But I only say, “Sounds good.”
A brief walk later, and the bell above the door twinkles as we walk in. I pause just beyond the threshold and take in the cozy bookstore. It smells of cinnamon, apples, and vanilla, like someone just pulled an apple pie out of the oven. The whole room is warm and inviting.
I love this place. Maybe I’ll do more of my grading here.
“Hey, Sarah,” Charlotte calls to the woman behind the counter. “I’m going to order from Johnny’s. You can have some if you sign our petition.”
Sarah doesn’t look up from the computer monitor. “I already signed it. I want pepperoni. No pineapple.”
Charlotte leans over the counter. “Fine.” She turns to me. “Aidan, pineapple on pizza, yes or no?”
I shrug. “I don’t mind it.”
“Marvelous.” Charlotte laughs. “Look, I’ll order two pizzas just to make you happy. One sausage and pineapple, the other pepperoni. You good with that?” She waits until I nod before she pulls out her phone and taps on it. “How’s it been?”
“A little slow,” Sarah replies. “But it’s still early.”
Charlotte shrugs in between tapping. “It’ll pick up later.”
As if on cue, a group of older women walk into the bookstore, giggling and talking loudly.
Panic rises in my belly and buzzing forms in my ears.
These women act like they know Charlotte, which means that they’re going to talk to her, which means she’s going to introduce me, which mean I’m going to have to take part in small talk.
I hate small talk.
A hand on my arm brings me back to reality. I look down at Charlotte’s face as she smiles at me. “There’s an office in the back if you want to get away. I’ll bring the pizza back for us,” she whispers and points toward a red door at the back of the store. “First door on the left.”
I nod stiffly and duck away from the approaching ladies. The office is exactly where she says it is. Small, but cozy, with bookshelves and filing cabinets along the walls and soft furnishings. There’s a small window behind the desk.
It’s quiet. Beautifully quiet.
I breathe in the calm and peace as it washes over me. The weight on my chest recedes, the buzzing dissipates, and my vision clears.
Letting out a sigh of relief, I drop my backpack on the floor next to the desk. I absorb the scent of pine, mint, and something else from the wax warmer sitting on the desk as I plop down in the chair. Closing my eyes, I relish the fact that I’m alone.
After a moment of centering, I pull out my laptop and start working on grades.
That’s what I was originally supposed to do today: grade papers.
I yank a stack of several folders out of my backpack and open the top one, which contains thirty handwritten essays from thirty students in my first period class.
I’m in the middle of deciphering barely legible scrawl, when there’s a knock on the door. I look up to see Charlotte sneaking through the door, carrying a pizza box and some plates.
Is the pizza here already? Where did the time go?
“Hey,” she says. “I left Sarah with the pepperoni. I hope you don’t mind sausage and pineapple.”
“It’s fine,” I say as I gather up my papers. I only graded ten essays.
She sets the greasy box on the desk and then grabs a chair from the side wall. With a raised eyebrow, she scrutinizes me for a heartbeat. “Are you really neutral on pineapple?”
“Yes.”
She sinks into the chair. “Nearly every person I’ve met has either loved or hated pineapples. I don’t think I’ve ever encountered someone who is Switzerland in that war.” She opens the box and pulls out a slice. “I brought some napkins too,” she says as she tosses them onto the desk.
I reach to grab a slice of pizza, but Charlotte’s voice interrupts me. “You’re not a big talker, are you?” she says with a concentrated look on her face. “Why is that?”
I blink and look at her. Sweat pools on my palms, and not just because the pizza is hot. Words start to take shape on my lips, but then my mouth just gapes, nothing comes out.
I expect her to make fun of me or look annoyed when I open my eyes, but she just looks at me with a calm, placid expression on her face. Like she could just sit there this entire afternoon, waiting for me to work up the courage to finally say something coherent.
I finally say in a soft voice, “I have a hard time talking to people. I was diagnosed with social anxiety as a teenager.” My chest feels lighter now that the burden of keeping that from her is lifted.
“I see,” she says while nodding. “People are intimidating, right? Especially new people.”
I nod.
“Sometimes it’s easier to say nothing or go along with what everyone else is saying because you don’t want to cause a ruckus?”
I nod.
“Makes sense.” She takes a slice of pizza. “Out of curiosity, how are you a teacher? Don’t you have to talk to people all the time? Teenagers are the worst. How do you even handle that?”
I chuckle. “Teenagers aren’t as intimidating as adults. They’re easier to connect with and easily distracted, which is both good and bad,” I say with a little bit more confidence in my voice. Something in me shifts because Charlotte didn’t laugh at me.
“Gotcha,” she says. “How were you able to handle Bridgett Hartlett so well? She’s an adult.”
I press my lips into a thin line and shift in my chair. “I put on a persona. Like when I’m talking to parents, I’m no longer just Aidan. I’m Mr. Talbot, and Mr. Talbot doesn’t take shit from parents.” I open my mouth, breathing. “But it’s exhausting to put on that persona.”
“My dad called it, ‘masking.’ He was kind of like you. Have you ever seen Pride and Prejudice? The 2005 version with Matthew McFayden?”
“Charlotte, I teach the book as part of my curriculum. I’ve seen it.”
“Well, you know Mr. Bennet, right?”
“‘Oh goodness, people,’” I mimic the character played by Donald Sutherland.
She chuckles. “Good, so you now know what my dad was like.” She takes a bite of her pizza. “He even liked orchids.”
I watch her for a few seconds before taking a bite of my pizza. Is Charlotte accepting me? As just a friend? Or as something more?
Before I can think of that more, my mouth is met with an explosion of cheese, spice, and sweetness. “Oh wow! This is good,” I remark.
“Are you Team Pineapple now?” she asks with raised eyebrows. “No longer neutral?”
“No longer Switzerland.”
She giggles. “Sarah is going to hate that.” We eat in silence for a few minutes.
After Charlotte finishes her slice, she wipes her hands with her napkin and looks at me. “You know, this whole Library Committee thing is going to require you to talk to people. We’re all going to speak at that Open Comment meeting next month.”
I take a deep breath. “I know.”
“Are you going to be ok with that?” she asks with an inquisitive look on her face. “I can cover for you if it gets too bad.”
“I can do it,” I say flashing a weak smile and pushing back the bile gurgling in my stomach. “It means a lot to me.”
“Are you sure you’re going to be ok with the whole talking thing? If you need to back out, I understand.” She studies intently before adding, “No judgment. I’ll make up a reason to tell the rest of the committee.”
With a shake of my head, I say firmly, “I’ll be ok. I want to do this.”
Charlotte nods. “Good.” She then looks at me with wide eyes. “We could come up with a system. Would that help? Maybe you could, like, rub your nose or something.” She giggles. “Or we could learn sign language, and then you could sign to me if you need to dip out?”
I laugh. “We don’t need to come up with a secret symbol or learn sign language. I am capable of verbal communication.”
She nods and says simply, “Cool.” She giggles. The sound sparkles down my spine. “Oh my gosh, this is just like Yours Truly!”
I raise an eyebrow. “By Abby Jimenez?”
Her blue eyes grow wide. “Have you read it?”
I nod slowly. “I have. Although I fail to see the comparison that you’re alluding to.”
She beams. “I’m just pleased that you read romance books.”
I shrug. “What can I say, I like reading. When you asked me what my favorite genre was last night, I genuinely don’t have a favorite genre. I read everything.”
She blinks and stares at me with those big, beautiful eyes of hers. “So do you remember when Bri and Jacob promise to be harmless to each other? To let each other exist as they are?”
I nod, remembering the scene. It’s one of my favorites.
She goes on. “Well, I feel like we’re kind of doing that, promising to be harmless to each other. Or at least, I’m promising to be harmless to you.” She smiles, her eyes sparkling. “If that’s ok.”
A smile creeps up my face. “I like it. I promise I will be harmless to you too. I will let you exist as you are.”
She claps her hands together and squeals out, “Yay! Harmless buddies! We should make friendship bracelets!”
I chuckle. “I don’t like things on my wrist.”
“Fine. Friendship necklaces?” She tilts her head.
“I don’t like things around my neck.”
“Matching T-shirts?”
“Only if I can wear a hoodie over top.”