10. Bookstore Boys
Chapter 10
Bookstore Boys
T he bookstore is in a tiny building in Shaker Heights. Walking in, the floor is worn wood covered in multiple rugs that lead into the main area of the store. Skylights illuminate walls literally covered in books. The ceiling is painted a silky black.
Wait, was that a cat? This place has a cat?
That’s it. I’m living here.
I should get a cat. Lord knows Rosie would probably enjoy the company. Although Grandma mentioned once that socializing adult cats can be a real bitch.
But really—what is a witch without a familiar?
“Hazel!” I turn to Noah as he walks in the front door. “Hi!”
I have to do my damnedest not to melt into a puddle. It may be a losing battle. His shaggy brown hair is especially tousled today, as if he’s spent all Monday running his fingers through it.
I’d rather it was me tousling it.
“Hey!” I reply with a smile.
With a confidence that I really appreciate, he wraps me up in his arms. I barely meet his shoulder, my face pressed instead into the soft fabric of his cream-colored sweater. The electric shock is more of a gentle, consistent buzz under my skin as he holds me to him. His fingers tangle in my hair as I take a deep breath.
Bergamot, neroli, and green tangerine. And a hint of the weathered pages of a book.
Why in the shit am I able to identify those specific scents? It must be a witchy-herby thing.
“Have you ever been here before?” he asks as he pulls back from the hug. I was right, he can wrap those lanky limbs around me fewer times than I’d like.
“I haven’t. Why don’t you show me around?”
Okay, Confident Hazel. Don’t know who you are, but I’m glad you’ve made an appearance.
He takes my hand in his, the gentle buzz still fizzling, and leads me toward one of the walls filled with books.
“What are your favorite genres? Do you enjoy reading?” he asks, long fingers thumbing through different titles.
Why yes, Noah, I love reading. Just today I was reading about the premature grisly murder of my family member.
That may be a little heavy for a second date.
Is perusing a bookshop technically a second date? Or is it just a hang? What’s a hang? Is there a difference between a date and a hang? I’m so woefully unprepared.
“I love reading. I’m honestly all over the place. I’ve read thriller, fantasy, historical fiction, romance. It just depends on my mood.”
“You’ve read thriller? I’ve only seen the music video.”
A startled laugh escapes me. “A fellow lover of horrible puns, I see.”
He nods, grin so large I could just melt. “Yeah, but I’m the same way with books. I love all those genres. What did you expect, really? Only a book nerd would work at a publishing house.”
“You’re in luck. I like book nerds.”
He scratches the back of his neck as a slight flush darkens his cheeks. “I think new arrivals are over here.”
Sunshine. In. Human. Form. What guy would willingly admit to being open to the romance genre, let alone reading it actively? I appreciate his open-mindedness. Maybe if this continues and I have to drop the witch bomb...Well, maybe he’d be open-minded enough to listen.
“Cat!” I say as said cat jumps up on a table next to us.
Very astute, Hazel. Good job.
He chuckles. “That’s Tubbs. He’s the owner’s cat, but he comes to the shop every day. Total tease. He hardly lets anyone pet him, but he loves to be up in your personal space regardless.”
Regardless of Noah’s warning, I must try to pet.
I reach out slowly, allowing Tubbs to smell my skin. With a very melodramatic sniff—he’s a little prince for sure—he purrs and rubs his cheek against my palm. I scratch behind his ear and down his neck as the purring grows into a steady rumble. It vibrates in my chest, helping melt any lingering tension from earlier in the day. Maybe I’m a cat person.
“I’ve never seen him do that,” Noah says. “And I come here at least twice a week.”
I meet his gaze and my cheeks heat at the pure awe in his eyes. Like I’m some sort of magical creature.
“I guess I have the magic touch.”
He squeezes my other hand in reply and a new electric current travels up my arm to my spine.
Is it this intense for him, too? Or is it just like he explained—a little shock?
“I’d like to pick out and buy you a book, if that’s okay. I’d buy you flowers, but I genuinely know nothing about them and according to Nonna Ricci there’s this whole language with flowers.” His cheeks flush as he presses on, not even taking a breath. “But, books, I know books. I understand books. I can convey what I feel with books. Not that I’m trying to...I just think it’d be a really...I would like to buy you a book, Hazel.”
I’d listen to him ramble for hours.
“I’d love that.”
His face lights up with a grin so large the dimple in his chin shows. “Let me go pick something!”
Without a second word, he runs off toward the classics. With a smile, I turn back to Tubbs and give him more scratches.
He wants to buy me a book. A book he picks. A warmth starting in my chest settles all the way to my fingertips. I like how he rambles, how he wants to do this thing for me that is personal. It’s not flowers, it’s not chocolate, it’s a language that he speaks specifically.
I don’t think anyone has put that much effort into getting me a present before. Certainly not my mother.
“Hazel!”
My head jerks toward the now somehow familiar tone of Noah’s voice. How long have I been standing here scratching this spoiled cat?
Said cat mew s in my general direction and hops off the stack of books he was happily snoozing on.
Noah jogs up with a small bag in his hand. He hands it to me, his foot nervously tapping on the ground. “I hope you like it.”
“I don’t think it’s possible for me not to,” I reply, honestly. With trembling fingers, I pull out a brand-new special edition of Pride and Prejudice.
“That’s, uh...my mom’s favorite book,” he says. “She used to lecture me and my brother constantly on communication because of Darcy. Told me that, whenever I met a woman I liked, I should write her letters and overshare because being emotionally stunted would end with you being rejected in the rain.” A smile grows on his face as he speaks about her. “Plus, your sister kind of gives me Lydia vibes.”
Tears prickle in the corners of my eyes, blurring the black and floral cover.
Is this what being chosen feels like?
I swallow around the ache in my chest. “Thank you. I’ll treasure it for the rest of my life.”
My new book sits heavily in my purse as Noah and I walk back toward the bookshop from the ice cream parlor. I knew the moment he suggested it, I wouldn’t be able to resist. Plus the walk gave me a minute to put the overwhelming emotions I don’t have names for away.
Chocolate-chip cookie dough ice cream slides over my tongue and I suppress a full body shiver. It’s the best kind of ice cream, and I will throw hands over this.
“May I walk you to your car?” Noah asks, licking at his mint chocolate-chip cone. The way he flattens his tongue as he...
Is it hot out here?
“Oh, I took a ride share,” I reply. It would have been suspicious if I’d asked to borrow Grandma’s car again and I wasn’t ready for her questions.
He turns to me, forcing me to meet his dark brown eyes. I swear I could get lost in that purposeful gaze. “Do you want me to give you a ride home?”
I’d love to give you a ride.
Shit, Hazel, hold it together.
“Are you sure it wouldn’t be too out of the way? I live in Chagrin Falls and I know you have work tomorrow.”
Brick storefronts pass us by as we walk through the shopping district of Shaker Heights. People are out enjoying the fall weather with their dogs and families, laughter and barking filling the spaces in our conversation.
“I’d be happy to drive you. But, it’s completely up to you. Whatever you feel comfortable with.”
“Then I’d love a ride home.”
We discard the remains of our desserts and he leads me to his car, opening the passenger-side door of the gray sedan. The car smells like him. An intense, unfiltered version of his scent—bergamot, neroli, green tangerine, and weathered book pages—that just makes me want to roll around on the leather seats, soaking it in.
Which would be very weird, so I don’t do that.
He slides into the driver’s seat with that quiet confidence I’ve come to appreciate. I’m honestly surprised his lanky features all fit in the car.
“What’s your address?” He pulls out his phone. I tell him the address of the shop and he sets his phone on the holder on the dash.
He wraps his arm around the back of my seat as he turns his head to pull out of the parking space, and even the proximity of it causes anticipation to build in my gut.
“What plans do you have for the rest of the week? Anything fun?” he asks, the arm around the back of my seat coming down to the armrest between us.
It’s just lying there, palm up. Almost like he’s waiting for me to link our fingers together.
So I do.
“Not really. Just working in the shop and then teaching my class on Wednesday.”
“The shop? I don’t think you’ve mentioned the shop.” He turns to me just a little, keeping most of his focus on the road.
Shit. How do I explain that I work in an occult shop without making myself sound like an absolute weirdo? Considering I am a complete weirdo, maybe I should just go with it.
“My grandma owns a shop in downtown Chagrin. It’s called The Cat’s Cradle. I work there during the week.”
He shakes his head. “Never heard of it. Is it a pet supply thing? Is that why you’re so good with animals?”
It would be so easy to lie to him. So easy to slip into being a normal human. And while I don’t plan on telling him about the witchy thing for at least a while, that doesn’t mean I want to be a liar. I want to be as much of myself as I can with him.
“No. It, uh...” You won’t have a real relationship with him if you lie, Hazel. “Grandma sells a lot of magic things.”
Descriptive.
His head cocks slightly. “Like, for magicians?”
This isn’t going well. “I guess they could use some of it? But no. It’s more witchcraft.”
“Witchcraft?” He says the word slowly, as if he’s making sure that’s what I said.
“Yeah. Crystals, herbs, books. A bunch of other weird stuff, too.”
I fully expect Noah to laugh, drop me off, and then block my phone number. I wouldn’t necessarily blame him.
“Interesting. That’s pretty unique. Do you believe in that?” His body hasn’t tensed, he’s still holding my hand. For all intents and purposes, he’s remained perfectly neutral.
Despite it all, I’m not sure how to answer the question. Do I believe in the social media craze of healing crystals instead of medicine? No. Do I believe that humans can do witchcraft? Also no. But, do I technically believe in witchcraft and that I’m a witch?
Of course.
But, I’m not ready to tell him I’m a witch. I’m not ready to reveal a part of me that I’m only just now discovering. It’s mine. At least for now.
“No. That’s more of my Grandma’s thing. But the store is warm and welcoming, and the people who shop there are kind. It feels like home.”
His smile brightens the car. “That’s really nice you have that. Everyone deserves somewhere that feels like home.”
I squeeze his hand, the comforting electric fizz traveling over my skin. I could get used to this.
To him, and our electric connection.
The car slows in front of the shop as he pulls into a spot. The air is thick with expectation. Is he going to kiss me? Am I supposed to ask him to come up?
As if he knows, as if he can hear me, he gets out of the car and walks around to open the passenger door for me. Ever the gentleman.
The fall air ruffles the trees around us, creating a swirl of crisp golden and red leaves as he pulls me close. I lick my lips and his eyes track the motion, one hand on the small of my back.
His other hand cups my cheek, thumb rubbing along my skin. The smallest spark zaps along the trail. I lean into the touch, eyes closing.
My eyes fly open at the first press of his lips against mine. It’s tentative, questioning. His full lips press for just a second against mine before he pulls away.
A shy smile plays on his face and I want to kiss it away.
I just want. The very center of my chest aches and pounds like it’s trying to leap toward him.
I lean onto the tips of my toes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His smile grows as he nuzzles his nose against mine and sinks into a new kiss. His mouth is still soft against mine, gentle, as he guides me.
With every second, the awareness that it’s Noah—my sweet, nervous-talking, bookish, Warhammer -mini-collecting nerd—heightens every single one of my senses. Everything is more. More than I’ve ever felt.
The hand on my cheek drags back, getting tangled in my tresses and I have to grab onto his sweater at the shoulders just to keep myself from melting into the ground.
Noah grips my hair firmly and tilts my head so he has better access, his teeth gently grazing my bottom lip. His stubble scratches against my skin, amplifying the electrical surge that’s lighting my skin on fire.
He pulls just a little on the too-hard side and I accidentally moan into the kiss, unable to help myself. The sound pulls a matching groan out of Noah as he pulls my body even closer.
“Hazel.”
I whimper at the way he says my name. Like he’s desperately thirsty and I’m the only drink of water for miles. Like he’s been denied food for days and I’m a thick, juicy steak.
“Yeah?”
“I should...” He licks his lips. They’re rosy and swollen from kissing and I can’t stop staring at them. “I should let you go upstairs.”
The hands still desperately clinging to my body say otherwise.
“Why?” I’m still staring at his mouth.
He takes a deep breath, leaning his forehead against mine. “Because it’s a weeknight and I have work in the morning. And if I follow you up there, I don’t know if I’d ever want to leave.”
A breeze rushes by us and I nuzzle further into his warmth, away from the cold.
“I want . . .” I trail off.
He groans again, the sound reverberating through my body. “I want, too.”
I sigh, pulling away the smallest amount. “Next time?”
He smiles, arms unwrapping from around me to hold my hands. “Next time.”