Chapter Three
Iwake up to multiple texts from Callie.
I finished the book after she went to bed last night and sent her my thoughts on it.
I told her that the characters were well developed, and the plot had a good mix of action and romance, definitely enough to keep the interest of both types of readers.
I thought the main character was a little too righteous and she could probably loosen up a little, but overall, I liked it.
I almost unsent it, but I had to commit to the bit eventually. I followed it up with one more text before leaving work.
Not sure how I'm supposed to sleep after that cliffhanger but I'll see if I can manage to survive until tomorrow. I'll come in a little early so we can talk about it if you have time. Goodnight, Callie.
She texted me back at 7am. Of course she's a morning person. She's basically made of sunshine.
I'm so glad you liked it! I'll have the next one set aside for you when you get there. I'm sure Eddie can manage without me for a little bit lol.
Also, I found another one you might like. I'll set a copy aside for you.
If that's ok, of course. If not, it's totally fine!
Ok I'm probably blowing your phone up so I'll leave you alone and stop yapping now.
Oh, and good morning!
I don't know if cuteness aggression is a thing in people like it is in animals, but I feel like I need to bite something in half. She's just a little ball of anxiety too, huh? I feel so seen.
I rush through getting ready, making sure I at least smell nice, and my hair and beard are neat before I leave. It's hard to look good in a security uniform.
I really need to stop in on my day off next time.
I leave an hour early, and I have a feeling it still won't be enough time. When I get to the bookstore, Eddie is at the register. He pats a hand on a small stack of books, presumably the ones that Callie had set aside for me and dips his head towards the café with a suspicious smirk.
She's sitting in one of the chairs with two cups on the table in front of her and her face in a book. She’s so invested in whatever she’s reading that she jumps when I pull out the chair across from her.
"Oh, hey!" She beams at me and slides one of the cups across the table.
When I cock a brow at her, pink flushes her cheeks.
"I figured you'd be in a hurry so I asked Eddie what you normally get but he had no idea so I asked Hannah what she normally made you and that worked but then I realized I wasn't sure exactly what time you'd be here and it’s been a while so it’s probably already cold so I was just going to grab another one when you got here but.
.." She takes a deep breath in and holds it for a moment before letting it all out in a long, slow huff.
"Sorry, sometimes I forget how to people and I just ramble away," she mumbles, and reaches for the cup. "I'll be right-"
I wrap my hand around the cup before she can take it, but she doesn't see it and ends up wrapping her tiny hand around mine.
Steam puffs up out of the vent as our hands collide, and it might be coming out of my ears, too.
I had planned to make a big show of drinking it and telling her how delicious it is, but every thought in my head has been replaced with a fucking mariachi band, so it's a solid ten seconds before either of us says anything.
"Thank you," I finally say, and it takes every iota of willpower I have to pull the cup out of her grip and take a sip. "It's perfect," I tell her, taking another and watching her over the cup.
It actually is, but Hannah has been making me the exact same caramel macchiato for almost 2 years now so I would hope so. I won't tell Callie that, though.
Her relief is a palpable thing, and I can actually see it wash over her face. "Ugh," she says, blowing out a relieved sigh. "Okay, good. So, you liked the book?"
I let out a quiet laugh because she's asked me if I liked it about 743 times in the last 12 hours, but I'm trying really hard not to make her anxious.
Well, more anxious, anyway.
"Yeah, for sure," I reassure her. "I really liked it. I'm excited for the next one too. I bet I'll finish it tonight." I had already looked it up and, despite being a fan favorite, it's even shorter than the first.
"Oh, definitely. I can't wait to hear what you think!" Her smile is genuine, and I don't know why I'm surprised to find that she actually wants to hear my opinions. No one even lets me talk about books, let alone gets excited about it.
We chat for a while about the next book, and then another series we both love.
She occasionally looks up and down the street through the front window, and her eyes dart to the door every time the bell chimes, but I chalk it up to being new in town and nervous.
She's passionate about reading, and it's obvious that she especially loves books about strong women who save the day on their own in any genre. She’s especially drawn to books featuring intelligent women who outwit their opponents.
As we talk, I can feel something forming in the back of my brain. An extraordinary woman who thinks she’s nothing more than ordinary. She finds out what she’s capable of through a series of trials and finally learns that she’s been someone important all along.
It's just the tiniest trickle of inspiration, but the familiarity of it, mixed with the excellent company, has me grinning like a fool.
We finish our coffee and reluctantly part ways. I promise to text her live updates while I read tonight, and she’s already plotting out my Tbr list.
We repeat this process at least once a week for the next few weeks.
I stop by the bookstore for our afternoon coffee dates, she sends me on my way with a new book or two, and then we spend the evening texting.
I’ve noticed that she’s a little closed off about her personal life, but she’s more than happy to go on about books.
Anything I’ve read, she’s also read and has an opinion about.
She’s been slipping up lately, though. She’ll start to share something and then cut herself off.
I don’t want to pry, but I wish she’d open up more.
Sometimes, I bring my notebook with me to work and jot down some ideas for my story. It’s mostly just stray thoughts and a basic outline at this point, but it’s something. I haven’t told her about it yet, but I will. Eventually.
Today has been a routine coffee date day. We’re wrapping up our conversation so I can head to work when an idea hits me. So far, we’ve only hung out at the bookstore. I’m not complaining, but I’d like to see her outside of my uniform and without having to keep an eye on the clock the whole time.
"Hey, do you work Saturday?" I ask. She shakes her head, and I take it as a sign from whatever patron saint watches over anxiety-riddled nerds.
"Do you maybe want to go out with me that night?
There's this place in the next town over where you can get really good food, but it's also got this cool little arcade in it.
" She doesn't answer me right away, and the panic starts to settle in.
"Only if you want to, though. It's just a fun place, and we can talk about books when you're not on the clock and. .."
I'm rendered fully mute the second she reaches across the table and grabs my hand. In the weeks that we’ve been hanging out, this is the first time she’s touched me on purpose.
My eyes drift back to her face, and she's got one side of her mouth pulled up in a mischievous smirk. She knows I’m about to word vomit, and she’s having fun watching me squirm before letting me down easily. There's no way she isn't laughing at me in her head.
"Sounds fun," she says finally, cutting off the Self Deprecation Express barreling through my brain. She still sounds a little wary about it, but she gives my thumb a tiny squeeze and I decide not to question it.
"I don't drive, though. Would you be okay with picking me up?
My apartment is right up past the square.
" She tilts her head toward the little topiary display up the street, and I know there's a row of apartments behind it.
There are only two apartment complexes in town, and the other is an absolute shithole, so I assumed it was that one.
I consider making a lame joke about her living in the topiaries, but it hits me that she's comfortable enough to both tell me where she lives and let me drive her, so I decide to keep it to myself.
This time, anyway.
"Yeah, absolutely," I tell her, like I'm not about to spend all day Saturday detailing my car now.
"Text me your unit number. I'll come get you at 6?
" She nods, her smile so wide it's almost touching her ears.
I glance at the clock again and swear. "Ok, cool.
I really do have to get going now though, or I'm gonna end up getting written up.
Or beat up, probably by John's wife, if I make him late getting home again.
" We both chuckle at that, and she leads me up to the register.
With two new books in hand, I'm sliding into my car when I glance at the front window. Callie is standing in the corner watching me. When she realizes she's been caught, I can see her cheeks flush from the sidewalk. She gives me a sheepish smirk but doesn't move until I'm gone.
By the time I pull into the parking lot, I've got a new text.
Don't mind me, just enjoying the view.
Fuck.
I walk into work with a few minutes to spare, and John gives me a silent nod of approval as he leaves.
I barely notice him, my brain still processing the text.
Don't mind me, just enjoying the view. Excuse me?
Is she enjoying my suffering, or just trying to put me into an early grave?
How do I even respond to that without sounding like a creep?
Although, she was the one staring at my ass through the window.
I cycle a few responses through my head before settling on one.
Thanks, I'll be here all week. Happy to be of service.
I follow it up with a gif of a guy in a tux bowing on stage and I'm rewarded with a laughing emoji. A few minutes later another message arrives.
We just got a huge shipment full of used books so I'll be sorting those for the rest of the night. Please please please still send me your thoughts on the book. Just wanted to let you know that I might be too busy to respond right away.
No problem, do your thing. I'll talk to you when you’re free.
That gives me some time to blow through these books, although I'd rather be talking to her while I do it.
The first is a hardcover, another installment in the dragon series that she got me hooked on.
The second is a small paperback that I've never heard of, but I recognize the author.
He's a fantasy legend, and he's known for writing a series with a million different semi-standalone books that all connect in little ways in the end.
It's a little beat up on the edges, but otherwise in good condition.
I settle in for the night and start reading, but I notice that some of the pages have writing in the margins.
It looks like a purple fountain pen, scrolling across the page in neat, curly handwriting.
There are tiny dots in some places that definitely look like accidental ink drips.
I flip through a bit more and realize it's not on just some of the pages.
It's most of the pages. There are notes about the characters, definitions of words, some underlined quotes, and even some ideas on what the author could have done differently.
Did Callie do this? Her number was written in purple pen, but it was glittery and a brighter shade of purple.
I pull out my phone to text her and remember that she's busy tonight.
I'll ask her later. I slip the first book back into my backpack and start on this one, making sure to read all of the annotations as well.
An hour or so later, I'm a quarter of the way in and I'm already obsessed. The book is great, but the comments are even better. Some of them are funny, others insightful.
There's a point early on in the book where the main character has to make a choice, and the annotator took up every spare inch of the margins on both pages to write out what they think would have happened if they made the opposite choice.
Don't get me wrong, the author's choice was logical and well-written, but it was an interesting take.
The annotator's idea would have taken the story in a much more intense direction, and this book is meant to be lighthearted, but it was definitely something to think about.
The darker path gave me an idea of my own, though. I abandon the book for a bit and pull a notebook out of my bag, jotting down some ideas. Once I've got my thoughts down on paper, I sit back and finish the book.
I don't think I want to dive into the other book just yet, so I review my handwritten notes from earlier and add on to them, fleshing out the idea a little more while I’m still inspired.
I think back on the dream I had the other day.
A group of adventurers coming down a mountain to a little village hidden between the peaks.
Then the idea that I got when I was talking to Callie, about a woman who has to learn that she's strong.
As soon as my pen hits the paper, it's like opening a floodgate.
I fall into the familiarity of writing and, before I know it, my replacement is here to relieve me for the morning.
I stuff my notebook back into my backpack and clock out, but my brain is still running through the outline that I have almost finished.
This is further than I've ever made it without dropping my focus, and I can't lose momentum now.
I get home and pull my notebook back out.
It's almost 6 in the morning when I finish my outline. It's basic and definitely needs some research before I start actually writing, but it's a finished outline. It's something I've never done before, and all it took was someone else's comments scribbled in the margins of an old book.
I was so engrossed in writing last night that I never even took my uniform off before I sat down.
I strip everything off and lay down. It dawns on me as I'm plugging my phone in that I never texted Callie at all last night.
Fuck. I send her a message now, so she doesn't think I completely ditched her.
Hey, I'm sorry I didn't give you any live updates last night. I actually spent the night writing instead of reading. Going to bed now. I'll tell you more later. Goodnight!
Hopefully she's not mad. She seems like someone who would understand getting lost in inspiration when it strikes. I set an alarm before I roll over and fall asleep. I dream of a girl with pale blonde hair dragging me by the hand through a mountain pass, and I've never slept better.