"You will. I'm a bad influence."
He is a bad influence. He's also the best thing that's ever happened to my bookshelf, and my room, and my life, but I don'tsay that because it's 7 AM and we haven't had coffee yet and there are limits to what a person can absorb before caffeine.
"Library?" I ask.
"Library." He grabs the backpack, lighter now, books only, the clothes in the drawer, and we walk downstairs together.
The bar is quiet at seven. Knox in the kitchen, which is unusual. Jason's territory, but Jason isn't here yet. Knox is making coffee the way Knox makes coffee: with the intensity of a man who treats a French press like a precision instrument.
"Morning," Knox says without looking up.
"Morning." I pour two cups. Hand one to Devin.
"Dev." Knox looks up. "Blueprints are on the workbench in the garage. If you want to see them."
Devin's cup pauses halfway to his mouth. "The house blueprints?"
"Updated drawings. Dave dropped them off yesterday. You two really should be quieter if you don't want everyone knowing everything. Just a suggestion."
Devin is bright red as he looks at me. I nod. He sets down his coffee and walks to the garage like he's trying not to run.
I follow. The garage is cold at 7 AM, and the blueprints are spread across the workbench under the fluorescent lights. Dave's revised drawings, the ones with the changes I requested. Devin unrolls them with careful hands, the way he handles books. Reverently, like the paper matters.
"This is it?" he asks.
"House five. Two bedrooms, one bath, open kitchen and living area."
His finger traces the layout. Front door, living room, kitchen with an island. The bedroom. The bathroom. And then the second bedroom. The one that isn't a bedroom anymore.
"The bookshelves," he says quietly.
"Both walls. Floor to ceiling."
His finger moves along the drawn lines. The shelving units, precisely rendered, running the full length of each wall. Dave's contractor notes in neat print: built-in shelving, 8ft height, adjustable shelf pins, pine or oak TBD.
"And this?" His finger finds the bump-out in the living area. The rectangle by the east-facing window.
"The reading nook. Window seat with storage underneath. Dave's wife has one. She loves it."
Devin stares at the blueprints for a long time. His hand flat on the paper. I can see him doing what he does, cataloging, filing, building the space in his mind. Walking through rooms that don't exist yet but will. Imagining the shelves filled. The window seat with a cushion and a blanket and the morning light coming in from the east.
"Oak," he says.
"What?"
"The bookshelves. Oak, not pine. Pine dents too easily. If you're going to fill them with books, real books, books you handle every day, you need hardwood that can take it."
"Oak costs more."
"Oak lasts longer. And it ages well. Gets darker. Books look better against dark wood."
"You have opinions about shelf wood."
"I have opinions about everything that holds books." He traces the reading nook one more time. "How big is the window?"
"Dave said four feet wide. East-facing."
"Morning light."
