10. Summer 15
As we pull up to the bookstore, Andrew and Mrs. Martin get out of the car, Mrs. Martin moving to the driver’s seat. I unbuckle and slip out of the back seat, meeting Andrew in front of the store. “All right, kiddos, I’ll be back in a couple of hours. Does that work?” Mrs. Martin chimes.
Andrew’s face droops with a frown. “We aren’t kiddos, Mom. I just drove us here.”
She just chuckles at his frustration and drives off. I turn to take in the bookstore in all its glory. “This is it, huh?”
He nods, wearily watching me and waiting for my approval. I lead us in, practically shaking with excitement. For how much I love reading, I rarely get to go book shopping. There’s a Barnes Noble in the mall near my house that I’ll occasionally poke around in while my mom makes a return, but twenty minutes in a bookstore is not even remotely enough time.
I take in the store with awe. It has a very cozy vibe with a fire crackling in one of the corners, even though it’s eighty degrees outside. Each of the shelves are labeled clearly, and I can see the books are organized alphabetically by author, a huge plus for my organized self. There’s a seating area in the center that looks like someone’s living room, including coffee tables and comfy chairs. It is very inviting, inspiring people to just sit and read or chat about books.
“I love it.”
Andrew’s relieved smile grows quickly. “I’m so glad to hear that.”
I start wandering around, reading the labels on the bookshelves. “Where’s the science fiction?”
A woman who looks to be college-age approaches us. “Is this your first time in?”
Andrew immediately steps in to speak for us. “I’ve been in a few times before, but this is Emma’s first time.” He tilts his head in my direction.
She nods in excitement. “My dad owns the bookstore, so I know this place like the back of my hand. The nonfiction is toward the front. The fiction is in the middle, and the children’s books are in the back. If you need anything at all, let me know,” she says with a friendly smile.
“She seems nice,” I note to Andrew as we walk toward the middle of the store.
“Her dad is amazing. I wish he was here. He gave me all kinds of book recommendations last time.” He looks down at the ground, disappointed.
“It’s okay. I don’t like people bugging me at the bookstore anyway. I just like to browse and see what I find.”
He perks up a bit. “Well, this is your reward, so you get to choose how this day goes.”
“You don’t have to buy me a book just because I went wakeboarding, you know. I had a good time doing it. It’s not like it’s something I regret trying.”
He shakes his head adamantly. “I promised you I’d buy you a book. I’m not going to break a promise.”
I give him a soft smile, but inside my heart is swelling as it hits me just how caring Andrew is. “Thank you.”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “Of course!” He begins shuffling some books around on a shelf until he lifts one up to read the back.
We wander through the store in silence for a while, picking up books, reading the backs, and placing them back on the shelf. As I round the corner at the end of the bookshelf, I find the young adult section. Fantasy books have always been my go-to, but starting high school has exposed me to several new genres, so I decide to poke around.
I pick up a book with a beautiful green cover, its title written in delicate white cursive. I don’t even know what it’s about, but I already want to read it because the cover is so magnificent. I know what they say about not judging a book by its cover, but it doesn’t mean a beautiful design won’t catch my eye every once in a while.
I flip it over to read the back and discover it’s a love story between a girl and the boy next door. It’s the perfect book. It reminds me of Andrew and me. While I haven’t read any romance books that aren’t primarily categorized as fantasy, I know I’m a sucker for love because of all the rom-coms Rebecca and I have watched. We spent one rainy day earlier this summer binge-watching movies on Netflix for over twelve hours. We only left her room to grab pizza from the kitchen and ice cream from the freezer. It was the perfect day in my mind.
I open the book up to the first page, curious. I figure I’ll just read a page or two and then keep looking for a book suitable for Andrew to buy for me.
Half an hour later, I’m several chapters deep. This book had me hooked from the beginning. There’s a will they or won’t they plot that leaves me wanting more with each page.
Andrew struts around the corner and catches me reading it. “Looks like you found a keeper.”
I blush a little, hoping he can’t tell what the book is and judge me for being a hopeless romantic.
“Is that the one you want?”
I close the book and hug it to my chest. I do want it, but I don’t want to tell him that. I know it’s completely nonsensical, but if he finds out what the book is about, I’m convinced he will know I picked it up because it made me think of him, and it will ruin the amazing friendship we have going right now.
I shrug my shoulders. “Maybe we can look around a little more.”
“Are you sure? I saw you were already pretty deep in that book,” he persists.
I glance at the clock on the wall behind him. We’ve already been in here for almost two hours, and we are still supposed to go for ice cream. Stop being irrational and accept his offer! “Okay, yes. This is the one.”
He walks me up to the register, and we checkout with the nice store owner’s daughter. She lifts the book to scan it. Peeking down at the cover she exclaims, “Oh, this is a great book! It’s been very popular this summer. The story is so good. You know this author writes a lot of other good young adult romance books if you like this one. I personally think she has quite a few underrated gems.” She smiles kindly as I die from the shame bearing down on me.
I can feel my cheeks growing tomato-red by the moment. Andrew doesn’t seem too fazed, but I can see the slightest hint of shock at the mention of the word romance. If I pretend everything is normal, maybe he won’t ask me about it, and I won’t have to explain why I picked this book.
We walk out of the store, and he points out the ice cream shop that is right across the street. We cross over and enter with the musical ring of a bell overhead.
I find myself in awe for the second time today. This is no ordinary ice cream shop. There are two full freezers, each with at least a dozen flavors to pick from: fruity flavors with handpicked fruit from local orchards, and sweet flavors with homemade fillings like cookie dough and brownies. There’s even a dark chocolate ice cream with cocoa imported from Brazil.
“I don’t know where to start,” I whisper to Andrew as I gaze back and forth between the freezers. “Do they offer samples?”
“Oh yeah, they’ll give you all the samples your heart desires,” he boasts with an eager smile.
“What’s your favorite?”
“I’ve only been here a couple of times, and I always try to get something different because they have so many flavors. They even rotate out their flavors sometimes for the seasons. They regularly have a chocolate and peanut butter ice cream I think you’ll really like though.”
I peer in at the tubs of heaven. I do love chocolate and peanut butter. “Ooh, that sounds great! Can I get more than one flavor?”
“You better! I might even get three!” He punctuates his laughter with a wink.
The man at the counter finishes up helping the couple before us and addresses us, “Welcome in! What can I get started for you today?”
Again, Andrew takes the lead on the conversation with the stranger, and I mentally thank him for knowing me so well. “She needs lots of samples. This is her first time in the store.”
“Alrighty then! I think we can arrange that.” He smiles. “What kind of ice cream do you normally like?”
“I love just about anything with chocolate in it.”
Andrew peers over the counter to assess the flavors carefully. “Start her off with a sample of the chocolate and peanut butter flavor.”
The man grabs a wooden spoon and loads it up with the perfect bite of ice cream, complete with a giant glob of brownie laced with peanut butter swirls.
“This is our peanut butter fudge brownie. It’s one of the most popular flavors.”
I take it eagerly and taste it in two bites, savoring it. It’s extraordinary! The ice cream is perfectly creamy, not too rich. It has the perfect ratio of peanut butter to chocolate, and brownie to ice cream. I get a tease of peanut butter that doesn’t outweigh the delicious chocolate, and I can get brownie in nearly every bite without being overwhelmed by it.
Right as I go to throw my spoon away, the man hands me another sample of ice cream. “This one is a dark chocolate ice cream with raspberry ribbons. It’s mostly chocolate but with a hint of fruit.”
I don’t typically enjoy ice cream with fruity flavors, but I don’t want to be rude, so I take the sample from the shop worker. Just as I finish my second sample, I’m handed another.
I turn to Andrew and find him already holding two more for me. The man behind the counter has apparently been scooping them as I tasted. He is more than following through on his promise to load me up with samples.
The next one is vanilla ice cream with brownie chunks and caramel. It’s good but not quite my taste. He also throws in a cookie dough flavor with a chocolate base and insists I try their seasonal cherry flavor. I’m surprised to find it’s really good, even though it isn’t bursting with chocolate.
“It’s going to be impossible to choose with all these options. I haven’t tasted anything I don’t like,” I groan to Andrew.
The corner of his mouth quirks up, reaching an amused half-smile as he goes to place his order, mint cookie and cherry.
I crinkle my nose. “Aren’t they going to mix and ruin the ice cream?”
“That’s the best part! You’d be surprised how good mint and cherry is.”
“You have horrible taste,” I tease as I step up to order my ice cream, finally deciding on the chocolate raspberry and peanut butter fudge brownie.
We sit down at a bench outside that’s a little way down the street. The second I sit, I’m greeted with a comforting stillness compared to the rest of the street, followed by the warmth of Andrew sliding in next to me. Even with the July heat attacking me, the feeling of his shoulder touching mine gives me goosebumps.
I take a bite of my ice cream and close my eyes as I enjoy the creamy, slightly melty goodness. I open my eyes to find Andrew watching me, looking pleased with himself for being the one to bring me here and bring me joy. I love that my happiness makes him happy.
“How’s the ice cream?” he asks, knowing the answer.
“This is Heaven on earth, Andrew! I can’t believe you didn’t bring me here sooner!” I exclaim, shoving his shoulder.
He cracks a smile. “It’s not my fault neither one of us can drive.”
“We could bike here,” I suggest. “I’d bike fifteen miles every day for books and ice cream.”
His joy becomes evident as it radiates from the inside out, showing in his shining eyes and easy laugh. “Maybe you could do that, little miss runner, but I’m just a jumper and a thrower. I’d die on a fifteen-mile bike ride.”
I giggle a little at the thought of Andrew attempting to bike that far. “I guess it’s a good thing we will be able to drive next summer.”
He nods in agreement. Then he nudges the plastic bag I have sitting at my feet, containing my new book. “So, a romance book, huh? Are you getting soft on me, moving on from fantasy to cheesy rom-coms?”
I know by his tone that he’s teasing me, but I still can’t help the fire that sets my cheeks ablaze as my embarrassment grows. “This is the first romance book I’ve ever picked up, but it sounded like it had a good story. I like happy endings. What can I say?”
“Our fantasy books have happy endings too. Just usually it’s the hero winning some battle or saving a whole civilization.”
“Yeah, but every once in a while, a girl wants to be swept off her feet. No matter how tough we may act, we all want to love and be loved. If I can find a little piece of that feeling in a book, then so be it.”
I’m a little shocked by the raw truth that just escaped me.I stuff another spoonful of ice cream into my mouth to distract myself from the thoughtful silence Andrew responds with.
“You’re loved.” Andrew finally says. “I mean your family loves you. Your friends love you. I don’t know anyone who doesn’t love you.”
Does he love me?I push the thought aside. “Yes, that’s true. I’m not saying I’m unhappy in my life, or I don’t feel loved. I’m just saying I don’t have the kind of love where you ache to spend every waking moment with that person because not only is he your favorite person, but you are your favorite version of yourself when you’re with him. Eventually, I want someone who will take me out for a fancy dinner date or stay in to bake with me and build a blanket fort to watch movies in.”
He raises his eyebrows. “For this being your first romance book and not having that kind of love in your life, you sure do know a lot about it.”
I laugh. “I watch a lot of rom-coms with your sister.”
He smiles and holds my gaze. “Well, I have no doubt you’ll find that kind of love, Em. Any guy would be lucky to have you.”
I break the eye contact, turning to spoon more ice cream. “Thank you.” I stare intently at my bowl that’s mostly melted now. Even as melty goo, it’s still the best ice cream I’ve ever had.
He begins picking at one of his nails. “Is that your idea of a perfect date? A fancy dinner and movies under a blanket fort?” He glances back up at me with a teasing smile.
“Not quite,” I answer seriously. “Dinner and a movie are overdone. I’d enjoy both of those things, but they’d have to be done separately.”
He nods. “Okay, then what is your idea of a perfect date?”
I think about it. I guess I had never really planned it. It’s not like I’ve had boys rushing to ask me out in school, or any place for that matter. I want to tell him this is my perfect date. Today was amazing, spending time with Andrew, looking at books, and eating ice cream. This right now is everything I could ever ask for, but I can’t tell him that. I try to imagine myself on a date with another guy, my dream guy. What would I want to do? I can’t picture any scenario where the guy isn’t Andrew. Dang, my stupid heart!
I blow a wispy curl out of my face, buying time to come up with an answer. “First, we would get pizza together because I love pizza more than most things in life.” A knowing smile slowly spreads across his face. “Then, I don’t know. For a perfect first date, I guess there’d be some sort of gesture. It doesn’t need to be grand, but it needs to be something sweet and romantic that shows he put some thought into the date and knows me well enough to come up with something I’d enjoy.”
Andrew’s deep blue eyes meet mine, and I swear I see something in them. There’s a soft light like he’s happy in this moment, and maybe, just maybe, there’s a hint of something else behind those eyes.
Andrew checks the clock on his phone. “My mom should be here any minute. Let me call her to get an ETA.”
He steps off for a moment to talk on the phone, and I reflect on our conversation. Was it obvious I was talking about my feelings for him? No, because I don’t feel that way about Andrew. We are just friends. How do I interpret his response? Is that just Andrew being his sweet self, or is Andrew giving me a hint?
He returns and grabs my book bag. “Are you ready to go? She said she will meet us outside the bookstore in two minutes.”
I take the last bite of my ice cream and toss my bowl in the trash. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to leave this place.”
He laughs and slings an arm casually around my shoulder, walking us to meet his mom.