She picks up a stack of books from the counter and heads into the rows of shelves. “Eating your words, Mellie Baker!” she calls over her shoulder.
Once Sydney returns to the front of the shop, I excuse myself to take my break before the last half of the day. My mind is spinning with the news of the writing contest, and I find myself drifting toward a specific row of shelves. I run my fingers lightly across the spines until I find the book I’m seeking, pulling it free and lightly brushing over the cover art. This is a newer edition than the worn, faded copy on my own shelves at home, a beautiful red image with the silhouette of Count Dracula surrounded by flying bats. I can’t explain it, but something about a rainy day always has me grabbing this novel, wanting nothing more than toescape into the dark, gloomy castle alongside Jonathan Harker. Today is no exception, and something about the short story contest has me reaching for a comfort read.
Outside, the rain patters lightly against the large front windows, a soothing soundtrack that is at once familiar and nostalgic. My mind is cast outward as a sudden memory invades, the present day bookstore melting away to the Nook of my teenage years.
“What are you reading?”
The voice slices through the silence, startling me.
“Oh, hey Ro.” My own voice is hushed, matching the quiet ambience around us. The only noise I’ve heard for the last hour was the rain drumming across the storefront, the occasional crack of thunder interrupting the calm every now and then. Ronin’s loud question echoes in my ears for another few seconds.
“Picked upDraculaagain today. Guess the weather put me in the mood for something broody and gothic.” I clear my throat, trying to chase away the scratchiness from nonuse. I lost track of how long I’ve been here reading, tucked away in my own private corner of the store.
“Ah, cool.” Ronin shuffles in place, shoving his hands into the back pockets of his jeans. He scuffs a shoe on the hardwood floor, floppy brown hair hiding his gaze from me.
“What’s up?” I ask, breaking the moment of silence that settles between us. “Were you looking for me?”
The tinkling bell affixed to the Nook’s entrance stirs me out of my own head as a couple enters, low conversation with Sydney following the quiet ringing as the door lightly swings closed behind them. I shake myself back into the present, the memory receding as quickly as it had arrived.
Ronin. He’s always there, lurking in my mind, especially in the small, intimate moments.
I pick my way through the aisles and choosea large chair situated by the wall and plop down, letting out a contented sigh to be off of my feet for a short while. Curling my legs under me, I settle in and flip open the book, the crisp pages greeting me with their new book smell. Inhaling deeply, I think about how I could bottle up that homey scent and wear it like perfume. The next thirty minutes trickle by as I get swept away in the story, lost among the pages yet again.
“Mel.” Ronin greets me warmly from where he leans against the bar as I swing up onto a stool. His signature dimples wink at me as a small smile breaks across his face. “Wasn’t expecting you tonight. What can I get you?”
“Hey, Ro. Just a coffee for now, please.”
“Coming right up.” He pushes off the counter, flipping a rag over his shoulder as he stands at his full height. I try not to stare at his ass as he walks away to fill my drink order.
I fail.
With a quick glance around, I find a few tables occupied by diners having a late supper, and there’s only one other person sitting at the bar besides me.
“What brings you by? Long day with Grandma?” Ronin hands me my latte and then leans down, his elbows anchored to the counter.
“Supposed to be meeting Bree, actually. She’s running a little late, I guess.” The smooth, chocolatey drink meets my lips, the sweet flavor exploding across my tastebuds as I take a sip, and I hum appreciatively before setting the mug down. I glance up to catch Ronin’s gaze on my mouth and my lips quirk.
He clears his throat before speaking. “So, everything’s going good at the bookstore, though?”
I nod. “Yep, everything’s great.”
Ronin studies me from across the bar. I squirm under his scrutiny. “What?”
He nods toward me. “What’s wrong?”
“What do you mean?”
“Imeanthat I can tell something’s on your mind. You get this look—” Ronin pauses, scrunching his face in mock seriousness. “That hasn’t changed, I can see.”
I giggle. “As always, you’re right.” I reach for my bag and pull out the flyer from earlier, spinning it on the counter so it faces Ronin. “Sydney showed this to me today.”
His face reveals nothing as he reads. When he’s done, he pushes it back. “So, you’re gonna win this contest.”
My heart lurches at his complete and easy faith in me. “That’s the plan…maybe? I don’t know.” I pull the flyer back and stuff it into my bag. My hands wrap back around my warm mug and I lift it to my lips. “I’ve never written anything like that before. Not with the intention of anyone’s eyes on it but mine, at least.”
“Yeah, but since when has that stopped you from trying?”
I blow a loose strand of hair off of my face. “I don’t know. It’s just an idea… We’ll see.” I take another sip of my drink. “Anyway, enough about me. How’s your night been?”
