13 - Samantha
One night after school, Roxy has a rare evening off. She’s on the phone chatting it up, her usual energy keeping her busy. I’ve already handled homework and begin to grab my keys when my phone lights up alerting me to a text message.
Phillip: Plans tonight?
I smile, seeing the text and start to answer.
Was on my way out – your Spidey-senses going off?
The bubbles immediately begin to move.
Phillip: laughing emoji>
Phillip: Seriously, where to?
Running to the bookstore
Bubbles dance again.
Phillip: Want company?
Thought you’d never ask
Phillip: I’ll drive
Twenty minutes later, we pull into the parking lot where there’s a strip of stores but most importantly, the bookstore.
“I could have drove.”
Phillip smiles easy, his wrist resting lazily on the steering wheel before pulling into a slot. “I like driving my woman around.”
His woman. I feel the familiar pink bloom in my cheeks. “I could get used to this, better be careful.”
He turns and winks. “I’m already used to it. Come on.”
He links our fingers together, loosely holding my hand, letting me guide us through the aisles, browsing. For fun, I take him to the murder mystery section first and then to the vampires, but he doesn’t seem phased.
“Just kidding.”
He gives my hand a light squeeze. “What do you like to read?”
“Don’t laugh,” I say when we start to cross over to the romance books.
He doesn’t, which surprises me. Instead, he takes an interest, quietly observing me as I pick my way through titles.
As with any bookstore or library, books are arranged by the author’s last name. Some face forward while others are turned to only show the spine, saving space on the shelves for plenty of selections. I’ve seen pictures online where people at home sometimes color-coordinate their home shelves according to the cover designs. Others have lights around their shelves or sort their reads according to genres or favorites. I just have a small shelf in my room with a few favorites, while I donate the books I can live without to the local shelter.
“Do you have favorites?”
I shrug, eyes wandering the shelves. “Yes and no. I like historical and contemporary.”
Phillip looks at some of the covers. He doesn’t react beyond a slight curl of the lips at some, eyebrows raising at others. Many covers are words only while some have pictures of men and women, half-clothed, reaching for each other in a moment of desire. I reach for a few and so does he, flipping the book over to read blurbs.
“See anything you like?”
“Possibly. The book I came for is at the counter. Ordered it last time I was here. But this one...” I hold up one in my hand. “This one looks promising too.”
“Get both.”
“Nah.” I smile, taking a picture of the cover with my phone so I don’t forget. “I read one book at a time.” I tuck my phone away again. “What about you, do you read?”
Phillip chuckles, “yes, Phillip can read.” He dropped his voice.
“Ok, caveman. I meant do you like to?” I shrug. “It’s not for everyone.”
Phillip points across to fantasy. “I’m currently reading those.”
“Game of Thrones?”
“Yeah. George R. R. Martin’s pretty good.” He links our fingers again and we start toward the counter. “I don’t know how you do one book at a time though. I like series. If they’re not series, I like several sitting around so I have options.”
“Do you stay to fantasy or read other stuff too?”
Phillip looks thoughtful for a minute, studying my expression. “I like Hemingway too.”
“Oh!” I clutch my heart with a book in hand. “He was gifted. I read somewhere he said to write drunk and edit sober.”
“That’s the guy.”
We reach the counter and a personable middle-aged woman with glasses turns to help me. “Hi, I have an order to pick up.”
“Name please.”
“Samantha Stone.”
Phillip stands silently by, watching the exchange. A moment later, she pulls a book from a shelf beneath the counter. “Here we are. Remembering Charlie. That’s a good one.” She smiles and rings me up and then we leave.
Once in the truck, Phillip plucks the book out of my hands to read the blurb.
“Life as Carter and Charlotte knew it was ruined the night he was in a motorcycle accident. Because of the amnesia he sustained, Charlotte is rendered devastated and unable to make amends for events prior to the accident. As a result, she must leave behind the man she fell in love with. He simply no longer knew her or the past they shared. Now, ten years later, their paths cross again. This time as a stranger, Carter asks for help to unravel a mystery. Charlotte must decide if helping him remember is worth disrupting her autistic son’s life, or is sacrificing her heart again the price she’ll have to pay for the man she never stopped loving. Damn. I’d read that.”
Phillip turns my way and stops. I’m staring at him.
“What is it, baby?”
I’m mesmerized. “I liked your voice, reading the blurb.”
“Yeah?” He ducks his head and grins a little. “Let’s grab some food and take it home. I’ll read it to you. If you want.”
Warmth washes over me. “I like the sound of that.”