6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
Lola
I inhale deeply into his hoodie. Trying to take in as much of his scent as I possibly can.
He smells like fresh parchment and leather, reminding me of the handcrafted leather-bound notebooks I used to collect. The same ones I had to leave behind. With him .
Damn, my thoughts and the terrible turn they take, souring the moment.
I even overlooked the cheesy line he recited because... well, it’s a good movie, dammit.
But just that one small sliver of stray thought has me clamming up again. I don’t want to be the weak victim. I want to be the fierce survivor. With a special boost of determination and one last glorious whiff of pure man, I move back out of Beckett’s arms and plaster a smile on my face. One that doesn’t even feel forced today. I have things to look forward to again. Starting with this.
“So, would you mind escorting me to the bookstore?”
He beams a gorgeous smile at me and offers his arm. “It would be my pleasure.”
I let him lead me from the library and make him wait for me in the foyer while I rush upstairs to do a quick change and refresh. And, like... actually brush my hair. Or attempt to, at least.
With some comfy dark jeans, knee-high black boots, a dark purple halter—a bra this time—and finally, a black and white dip-dye blazer, I deem my outfit casual business. According to Beckett’s instructions, I might be slightly overdressed, but on the off chance he wants to do dinner, I’m all set for that, too. Besides, no matter what he said, there was no way that what I was wearing before was even remotely appropriate for leaving the house. Let alone a job interview.
I give up on the brush and spray some dry shampoo in my curls before tossing them up into a messy bun. I take a quick second to add some purple eyeshadow and mascara.
Perfect!
I have never been a fan of my reflection in the mirror–or my body in general–but one of the biggest things I have been working on since moving in with Marina, is self-love. I’m stuck with this vessel, so it’s about time I learn to be comfortable in my skin. And I can appreciate how good the darker tones look with my skin color. You know... the perfect shade of ghost.
I quickly head down the stairs and thank Beckett for waiting, but he stares at me like a total weirdo. He has a huge smile on his face and gross little glitters in his eyes. You know, the ones that scream he might be feeling things? Things that I don’t know if I could possibly be ready for.
“You look beautiful.” He looks down at himself and growls. “I am so underdressed.”
I laugh and tuck my arm through his. “No, you look comfortable, and I look like I am going to a job interview and then out to dinner with a hot guy.”
“Who is he? I’ll kick his ass!” He says it with so much drama that I can’t help it. I doubled over laughing at him.
“It’s you, weirdo!” I manage to say between snorts.
Beckett smiles at me. “You think I’m hot?”
Oh no. Of everything I said, of course, that is the one thing that he latches on to.
“Obviously,” I say, adding an eye roll for good measure as he drags me out the door. He keeps me by his side, and my arm looped through his as he leads us down the long sidewalk and towards the busier city blocks. When we move in silence past a few more houses, I feel the urge to speak up.
“I really want to thank you for this. You don’t know me that well, and you are helping me in a big way. It may not seem like it, but with all of the crap I have been through this year, this actually feels like a step towards reclaiming me.”
“You’re right. I don’t know you well, but I’d really love to change that. Especially if you plan on kissing me again.” He turns his face towards me and adds a ridiculous eyebrow waggle, causing me to giggle.
Before I can say anything else, though, he keeps going.
“I’d also like to say that your trauma doesn’t define you. It might have shaped your path a little, but you are what you want to be. Whatever that is. And life changes so much every day that sometimes you change more often, too.” His words are heavy and touch me deeply, but I know I can’t say that or risk turning into a blubbering mess again.
“I like to think sometimes that I am a queen and that rough patches in life are simply a reminder to be humble and adjust my crown.” Beckett stumbles a bit but catches himself. When he looks in my direction, he has a soft blush on his cheeks. I’m not sure what I said or did to put it there, but it’s sweet.
“Yes. Queen fits you rather nicely.”
Why the hell does him calling me queen have my heart fluttering?
Alright, Lola. Calm your tits. You do not need to go into a job interview thingy with a lady boner.
That is not a way to impress your potential boss/potential boyfriend’s Aunt.
Although, can I even have a boyfriend if I am still...
No.
Fuck!
I am so sick of being reminded of that putrid excuse of a male. I wish I were done with him already. I don’t care if he finally submitted the dissolution paperwork a few weeks ago; this waiting thing is a headache.
I’m ready to move on.
Move forward.
And if that journey just so happens to include the gorgeous hunk on my arm, well, I wouldn’t complain one bit.
When we turn the next corner, I see the streets lined with tiny shops. Some are on the ground level, while others have a small set of stairs to descend. Just as we reach the end of the block, Beckett turns us to a purple door and opens it wide, ushering me inside.
When I walk in, I am completely blown away.
I thought Beckett was a wet dream, but this shop? It’s everything I would ever want in a bookshop.
From the floor-to-ceiling shelves, the tiny rolling ladder that gives you easy access to the topmost books, and the random nooks and crannies stuffed with oversized fluffy seating, even the dim lighting with the dark walls and flooring, calls to me.
Why yes, I am drooling a bit.
And no, I give absolutely no fucks if he thinks I am weird for it.
* * * * *
“Beckie, I love her. She’s hired!” The plump woman in—well, nearly the exact same outfit I was just wearing at home—says as she engulfs me in a hug. While I have never been the greatest at handling other people’s emotions, hugs are something I really do enjoy, so I return the gesture with equal enthusiasm. When we pull back from the embrace, she turns her affections onto Beckett.
“Aunt Fiona, you haven’t even asked her a question yet,” Beckett says as he also gives her a firm hug. He sounds falsely exasperated with his colorful aunt, but I am too busy trying to hold in my laughter at her nickname for him.
“Alright then.” She turns to me again. “Lola dear, do you like books?”
I chuckle softly. “Yes, I love books.”
“Great! You’re hired! Follow me.” She turns and heads to the back of the store, leaving Beckett and me to follow.
I lean against him slightly and whisper.
“Beckie?”
“Don’t ask. It’s a long story.” He whispers back with a shake of his head.
Oh, I will ask again at some point. And I will continue asking until I get that story because, with a reaction like that, it has to be a good one.
Strangely enough, Beckie is nearly like Becky.
The name of my new favorite author.