Chapter 4 #2
There are only a few people in the store right now: a woman intently studying the titles in the historical fiction section and two men in deep conversation about a book for their thesis.
It’s not hard to notice the shop doorbell signaling a new customer.
I set aside the stack of books I’m arranging and see a guy around my age, maybe a few years older, looking at our curated staff- picks table.
He’s attractive, and not in a “Is he hot or is he just tall?” way. His hair is dark, a little shaggy, and he’s wearing a jean jacket with a gray sweatshirt underneath. I subtly smooth my hair and adjust my cardigan. His eyes lift to mine, and he smiles.
“Can I help you with anything?” I ask, walking toward him.
“Yeah.” He smiles. “I’m looking for a book.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” I lift my arms to my side and look around.
“You know, there was a fifty-fifty chance,” he says, looking over to the giant Arcade Bookshop sign painted on the window.
“You’d be surprised how many people come in here looking for video games,” I say, and he lets out a morale-boosting laugh. “Is there a book in particular you’re looking for?”
He puts a hand on the back of his neck and looks around, overwhelmed. “A good one?”
“Well.” I nod. “This good one is always a hit if you’re looking for a thriller.” I show him one of my favorite Stephen King novels. “This good one is Harry Potter meets Eyes Wide Shut. ”
“Whoa,” he says.
“It’s crazy.” I walk over to a shelf on our right. “And I haven’t read this one yet, but the staff says it’s a good one if you’re into historical fiction.” I continue to scan the books in my view in case there’s anything else that pops out.
“What’s your favorite?” he asks.
“Mine?” I turn, and he’s pretty good at the eye contact thing.
He nods. I’m not sure why his interest in my preference catches me off guard; after all, I do work at a bookstore.
“Oh, I mean I like them all, but I’m a sucker for romance.
” I walk over to the table he was originally looking at and point to a book under my staff pick sign.
“It’s from a debut author in Chelsea, actually. ”
“June,” he says, looking at the name card I drew myself with a small sunflower on the top right instead of at the book. “Is that short for anything?”
“Just June.” I humbly shrug.
“It’s my favorite month.”
“No it’s not,” I say, a laugh escapingme.
“It is,” he says, giving a single nod. “The end of school, the start of summer. What’s not to love?”
“No, see, this is why October is the best month.” I shake my head. “Nothing beats the autumn weather, and from October on, you have Halloween, Thanksgiving, and Christmas to look forward to. It’s like the Friday of months.”
“Damn, okay, I might have to rethink a few things.”
“As you should.”
He smiles and then takes a breath. “As tempting as the erotic Harry Potter sounds, I’ll go with this one.” He picks up the book under my name and I bat away thoughts of this meaning anything more than a customer choosing a staff recommendation.
“Great choice,” I say, and hurry behind the cash register. I can feel his eyes on me as I ring him up, but I try my best to not look.
“I’m Adam,” he says.
I conceal a smile, like we’re in on an inside joke together. “Nice to meet you, Adam.” I place his book and receipt in a paper bag. “I expect a full review once you’re finished.”
“Oh, it’s not for me.”
Right. Of course. Unless it’s from the queer section, it’s not often that men buy romance novels for themselves. It’s usually for their girlfriends.
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “I hope whoever reads it enjoys it.”
“My mom,” he says, and a surprising wave of relief fills me. “And probably my sister once she’s done with it.”
“Oh, I’m happy to wrap—”
“That’s all right, no special occasion. I just always try to get her a book when I go home. She’s a big reader.”
There’s a wide range of clientele that comes through these doors, but an attractive guy who buys books for his mom and sister? I’m only human. It’s not until I see his gaze drop from my eyes to my hands that I realize I’m still holding his book. I cough and pass him the paper bag.
“Um, so where’s home?” I ask.
“Long Island,” he says.
“Oh, cool, I’ve never been. Do you like it?”
“Parts of it,” he says, nodding. “It’s looking like I might actually be moving back unless I can find a place in the city, so I kind of have to start liking it.”
“I know what that’s like,” I say, mildly triggered. “What kind of place are you looking for?”
“God, anything right now.” He sighs like I’ve hit a nerve. A nerve I know all too well. “A couch will do,” he says with a laugh. “I’m in a shoebox on the East Side and they just raised the rent. It’s tough with culinary school and— Sorry, you don’t care about any of this.”
“No, I do, actually. There’s this amazing brownstone on Perry, only a couple blocks away from here that I saw today, and the rent is crazy cheap…
” I look at the time on the computer screen to my right.
It’s almost four, which means there’s no way I’m finding a roommate before tomorrow morning.
“But I don’t think I’ll be getting it, so it’s back to looking at studios in Hoboken. ”
My coworker John emerges from the storage room behind me to start his shift. “Hey, June.” He gives me a nod and steps to my side, pulling out some inventory papers we both need to finish by the end of the day.
“Well, it was great meeting you, June.” Adam smiles and holds up his paper bag with his newest purchase.
For a brief moment, I wonder if I should ask for his number. I’ve never been good at reading those cues, especially when it comes to the opposite sex, but it feels almost like a missed opportunity to never see him again.
“You too, Adam” is all I end up saying.
He keeps his eyes locked on mine for a second, and then he’s gone.
At 10:53 a.m. I’m waiting outside of 74 Perry. In the same spot I was almost twenty-four hours ago. I pull out my phone and text Chloe.
I feel sick.
10:54 a.m. Only six more minutes until I have to give up my dream home and tell the nice man inside that I wasted his time.
There will be other places. I promise!
10:55 a.m. I put my phone back in my purse, close my eyes, and take a few deep breaths as if preparing for a scene in class. When I open them, what I see fifty feet ahead of me causes my skin to prickle.
Shaking hands with Stanley is Adam. Hot guy from the bookstore.
It looks like they’re saying their goodbyes.
Stanley pats Adam’s upper arm and then closes the door behind him.
Adam casually puts his hands in his pockets and heads down the stairs of the front stoop.
He’s almost too far away at this point, but my vocal cords are more developed than the average person’s.
“Hey!” I run across the street.
He turns around, brows grooved, but then looks genuinely happy to see me. “Oh, hey, June!”
I meet him on his end of the sidewalk and cock my head. “What are you doing here?”
While I’m still genuinely confused, I notice how effortlessly attractive and confident he is.
He’s the type of guy you can’t help but do a double take at.
He surely has an equally attractive partner waiting at home for him who believes in helping a nonprofit when she’s not working her full-time job.
“I checked out the place.” He points behind him. “You’re right, it’s incredible.”
“Yeah, I know…” I squint and repeat myself. “What are you doing here?”
“Checking out the place.” Now he’s the one who looks confused. “You told me to.”
“No I didn’t.”
“Yes you did.” He lets out an incredulous laugh.
I try to think back to our conversation. I’m quite positive I didn’t tell him to look at the place I intended to get for myself.
“Are you going to get it?” I don’t mean for it to sound accusatory, but this is kind of psychotic behavior on his end.
“Oh yeah,” he says. “I mean, it’s such a steal.”
“But I was going to get it!” I say almost too loudly.
“I thought you said yesterday you were giving it up?”
“What, did you transcribe our conversation or something? I found this place.” I fold my arms. “The fact that you came here to check it out is kind of fucked up, don’t you think?”
“Whoa.” He holds up his hands. “It’s not uncommon for multiple people to apply for the same unit.”
“You don’t think I know that?”
“So, we’ll let Stanley decide who he wants,” he says in the most nonaggressive way possible, which only riles me up more.
My face drops. “You already submitted an application?”
“Didn’t you?” he asks.
“I mean…not technically. ” I roll my eyes. “I’m not positive if I’m getting the place or not.”
“Wait a minute,” he says, shaking his head. “You just made me feel shitty about seeing this place after you told me about it and then you say it’s yours when it actually isn’t? That’s kind of fucked up.”
I swallow from being intimidated and maybe being turnedon.
“Well, when you put it like that, I sound crazy.”
“Maybe you are crazy.” He shrugs. “I don’t know.”
I ignore him. “Are you actually going to get this place?”
“Would you have a problem with that?”
“Yes,” I say. “It’s a brownstone. ” Saying it out loud and knowing it’s slipping through my fingers makes me want to cry.
“Well, you can come over anytime you want.” He smiles, and I shoot him an irritated look.
He takes a breath and puts his hands in his pockets.
“June,” he says, and I just want to hear him say my name again.
“I get your position, I really do, but I’ve been looking for a roommate for weeks and I finally found someone who—” Then a light bulb goes off.
It must be obvious in my face, because Adam frowns. “What?”
“You’re not getting this place on your own?” I clarify.
“I wish. I’ve been on roommate finder websites all month and there’s a guy in Queens who’s ready to move in tomorrow.”
“I have a proposition,” I say. My stomach churns but my words are coming out faster than my sense of judgment. I just need this house. “What if we live together?”
His head tilts, confusion creased across his brows. “I’m sorry— live together?”
“I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s perfect!
You need a place. I need a place. And think of how much we’d save!
” I grab his forearm, surprised how the physical contact makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“You already know me and where I work. I’m twenty-one, from Toronto, and I just graduated as a theater major from Columbia.
I’m sort of a neat freak and I don’t have a criminal record.
Do you even know this guy from Queens? At least you know me—I’m normal!
I mean, aside from yelling at you two minutes ago… which…sorry, by the way.” I smile.
He blinks and has no immediate reaction. If he doesn’t say anything in about thirty seconds, I have a feeling one of us is going to be halfway down the street and it’s a toss-up at this point as to who would be running away.
He continues to look at me, stunned, the jaw in his muscle working overtime. I’m waiting for him to laugh in my face, humiliating the stranger from the bookshop who scolded him and then suggested they be roommates. Except he does this thing and looks up and takes a deep inhale.
“I’m twenty-three, currently studying at the Culinary Institute of New York and I work at Galaxy’s Diner on 46th on nights and weekends. I also don’t have a criminal record. I’m kind of messy, but I cook a mean veal parmigiana.”
I chew the inside of my cheek. Somehow, this doesn’t feel like the craziest idea.
“Dogs or cats?” I ask, and he cocks his head.
“Dogs,” he says slowly, and then ping-pongs back to me. “Any weird habits?”
“I sometimes sing in the shower…but I can control myself.”
“Don’t,” he says intently, and I bite my lip. “Favorite holiday?”
“Christmas.” I roll my eyes, and he nods toward me as if to say obviously. “Early riser or night owl?”
“Night owl, but not partying. I’ll be in the living room watching movies until two in the morning.” He pauses. “Pet peeve?”
“People who burp in public.” I make a face. “You?”
“Slow walkers.”
Oh, that’s a good one.
“Favorite month?” I raise my eyebrow.
He stops the fast pacing of our back-and-forth and looks at me. He’s been looking at me, but now it feels different.
“Still June,” he says, and I realize I’m holding my breath.
“If we do this…” I clear my throat. “A few ground rules,” I say confidently. “We always pay our rent on time and split bills fifty-fifty.” He nods and I continue. “No drugs, outside of weed, and if we bring any significant others home, we give the other twenty-four hours’ notice.”
He takes a step closer, and I see the corner of his mouth curl into a little smile that makes me feel certain things deep in my belly.
“Anything else?”
My brain juggles all of the possible reasons we shouldn’t do this, but then I think of all the better reasons that tell me we should.
The main one being that house. I push aside the fact that he’s the most attractive guy I’ve ever met in real life or that him being mere inches away from me makes me feel my blood rushing through my body.
This dynamic could easily get messy, and there’s only one way to make sure things don’t get messy.
“Nothing ever happens between us,” I say.
He tightens his lips, and I see his jaw twitch.
I don’t know Adam well enough—Ibarely know him at all—but the look on his face tells me he’s no longer in.
“I mean, just because we live together doesn’t mean we can hook up randomly or make out, or whatever else you might be into. ”
“I’m curious what you think I could be into that isn’t hooking up or making out.”
I roll my eyes. “So, are you in or not?”
Our eyes lock and I put out my hand. He looks at it and then back up at me and I put on my best smile and flutter my eyelashes.
He laughs and shakes his head. “You got a deal, roomie.”