Chapter Eight
It had been a sticky, hot, early July afternoon when I was approached by two people.
A man and a woman. The woman, in her heels and perfectly proper business attire, towered over her counterpart. The shorter, nervous-looking man was dressed in far too formal an outfit to be just browsing a bookstore.
They wandered the shop for a few minutes, their eyes always finding mine as I curiously watched them from my place in the cafe.
The man approached me first.
“Excuse me, are you Jessa Alden?”
“Um, maybe?” I replied noncommittally. I had no idea who these people were or what they wanted.
The woman stepped forward. “We’re with the town council,” she explained. My worries dissipated in an instant. “We’d like to speak with you about a community event we’ll be holding. You are the owner of this establishment, yes? We would like for you and your shop to participate.”
I nodded, signaling them to carry on with their explanation.
My heart hammered in my chest as I grasped onto every word she spoke.
The woman went on to explain that the town council had organized a multi-step plan to revitalize Rosewood Avenue back to its former glory.
Part one had been the cheap rent they were offering on storefronts.
That was how I was even able to afford opening The Prologue in the first place.
Part two, apparently, would be a summer festival.
All the shops along Rosewood Avenue would be encouraged to pair up with a neighboring shop and put together a booth.
My excitement settled a little. It suddenly felt like a little less of an honor and more of an obligation. Though I would have agreed regardless, it did take away some of the charm of being asked.
Booths would be set up in Rosewood Park—the large park that sat at the very end of the street. The community would vote on the partnership that set up the very best booth. Those shops would then receive a revitalization grant that they could use to improve their shops.
“I’m happy to hear you’re so eager to participate,” the woman, whom I learned was named Bree, said. She was sipping a latte that Lily had brought out for her at some point during our discussion. “Now the only thing left is for you to choose a partnership. You have until the—”
Liam and I had not spoken since sharing dinner together in his apartment. Since I practically ran out of his place after learning I had lost. He came into The Prologue once or twice, but I avoided him each time.
If someone had asked me what life was like without Liam’s constant pestering, I would have told them that it was peaceful. It was, in a lot of ways. But life was also something else. Something that I didn’t wish to address, as achingly true as it may have been. Life without Liam was dull.
I also felt this inexplicable sense of guilt each time I went out of my way to avoid him. It didn’t make sense. He and I were anything but friends. Even if we were forced to tolerate one another at times, that didn’t change the fact that we couldn’t stand each other.
Still, without a second thought, I blurted out, “We will partner with The Galaxy Gamers Cafe.”
The man, whose name I had not learned, flipped through his papers before shaking his head. “It seems that The Galaxy Gamers Cafe has declined to participate.”
I scoffed. “He’ll be there. Put us down as partners.”
The man, who was sweating in his suit, looked at me skeptically. “Are you sure? I do remember that he seemed very adamant—”
“I’ll talk to him. He’ll be there.” I was certain of it. Even if Liam had his reasons for declining, I had the golden ticket that would guarantee he changed his mind.
* * *
Later that evening, after The Prologue was closed, but long before the summer sun would set, I made my way toward The Galaxy Gamers Cafe. A wide grin was plastered across my face. I was downright giddy to see how irritated Liam would be when I roped him into this.
It was busier inside than all the times I had come before—likely a direct result of school being out.
A large group of children surrounded one of the tables, while the others were occupied by smaller groups of teens and college-aged students.
The rest of the shop was just as full. Nearly every seat in the cafe was filled, and there were people down nearly every aisle, browsing the selection of games and trading cards.
It took longer than it usually would to find Liam, but eventually I did find him. He was sitting in the back corner of the cafe, typing away at an open laptop.
I pulled out the empty chair across from him at the table and sat down. Amber eyes shot up in an instant, narrowing slightly as they landed on me.
“She lives,” he said dryly. That confirmed it for me. Liam had noticed that I was avoiding him.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Liam shrugged, pushing the laptop closed. “Just budget stuff.” He stared at me for a moment before asking, “Why are you here?”
“I have our next competition,” I explained. It was easier to pretend that what happened the last time we spoke never happened at all.
The corners of his lips twitched upward slightly. “Do you?”
I nodded. “Yup. You are officially my partner for the Rosewood Summer Festival.”
“Not happening.”
“Too late. You said I could choose the next competition. This is what I choose.”
“You can pick anything but that. How would it even be a competition if we’re expected to work together?”
“First of all,” I said in a mocking tone. “You cheated in our last competition, which means I get to choose, and you don’t get to say no.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not—”
“Second of all,” I began to say, hoping that an idea would hit me. It did. “Business cards.”
“Business cards?” Liam repeated, confusion etched across his face.
I nodded. “We’ll put together a booth for the festival, and at our booth, we’ll each have a pile of business cards for our shop. Whoever is left with fewer business cards by the end of the event is the winner.”
Liam thought for a moment, leaning back in his chair as he gazed at me with those deep amber eyes. “That’s not a horrible idea,” he admitted. “But I still don’t want to—”
“Too bad.”
A few seconds passed before Liam finally replied, “Fine. But if we’re doing this, we’re winning.”
“Do you really think we can win?” I asked.
An exhale of a laugh escaped Liam’s lips. “Are you kidding? We’re us. We’ll make the best booth at the festival, and we’ll win the prize money. But I say we make this more interesting.”
“Interesting how?”
“When we get the prize money, no splitting it. All the money goes to the winner.”
I contemplated his terms. It wasn’t a half-bad deal. Even if I lost—which I was confident I wouldn’t—the exposure of having the best booth at the festival, prize money or not, would be a massive boost for The Prologue. “You’re on, Ashford.”
Liam stuck out his hand, and we shook on it. He didn’t pull back right away. Instead, he gripped my hand a little tighter and locked eyes with me. “But if you lose this time, no freaking out and disappearing.”
A sting of embarrassment zapped through me like a lightning strike. “Don’t worry. I don’t plan on losing.”
* * *
The Rosewood Summer Festival came a few weeks later.
It was no secret that there weren’t many shops on Rosewood Avenue, but of the few that there were, every single one showed up to participate.
Booths lined each side of the pavement of Rosewood Park, and it seemed as if the entire community had come out to support the event. Bubbles from a bubble machine mingled in the air with the sounds of children’s laughter and the live music from a band that was playing in the center of the park.
Everything was going great. Of course, aside from the disaster that was our booth.
“Jessa, two iced coffees. Now,” Liam snapped from his spot at the front of our booth.
“Use that tone with me again and I’m dumping this coffee right over your head, Ashford.” We had been getting on one another’s nerves since we set up a few hours prior.
Liam’s stiff posture fell. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “I think I’m too hot. Why is it so hot out here?”
“It’s July.”
“Right. July. Um, those coffees?”
“Here,” I said, brushing past him to hand them to the customers. “Enjoy the festival,” I said to the older couple. “Are you guys readers? You look like readers. Here, take my business card, I own the bookstore down the street!” I wasn’t going to let a certain someone’s attitude ruin the day for me.
Liam waited until they were out of earshot to nag me. “I thought we were going to take turns running the front?”
“Well, you clearly need a break with how snippy you’re being. Go work at the coffee station and drink some water. You’re drenched in sweat,” I told him, screwing up my face in disgust.
Liam didn’t look pleased, but he obliged regardless.
A part of me regretted ever teaming up with him. Another part found how frazzled he was to be the most amusing thing on the planet.
It wasn’t often that Liam was like this. He had, what seemed to be, just one weakness: weather. He hated rain. The heat made him sick. He became the world’s biggest baby when he was cold. If he were anyone other than himself, I might have even found it cute.
Our actual booth itself was a massive hit with the community.
Free coffee, board games, and an entire shelf of books people could borrow and read outside.
It was the best compromise we could come to when it came to trying to merge the ideas of our shops.
The planning phase hadn’t even been outwardly difficult.
We managed to get through the weeks of planning just fine without a single argument.
But I had almost completely forgotten about Liam’s aversion to heat. It was why he had turned down participating in the event in the first place.
“How much longer do we need to be out here?” he asked.
I turned to face him. Liam was propped up in a folding lawn chair, fanning himself with his spread-out deck of business cards. I couldn’t hold back the laugh that escaped me at such a ridiculous sight.