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I had brought a woman I’d been seeing with me and we spent the entire time arguing over the fact that she got sand in her designer bag. I mean, it was a fucking beach, what did she expect?
Hawk had pulled me off to the side, insisting I needed someone more carefree, more easygoing. At the time I agreed with him, but still found myself dating her for the next three months before finally breaking it off. I don’t know why I waited so long.
“Hey,” Will’s single word interrupts my memories, pulling me back to the present.
“Yeah, what’s up?” I ask, blinking toward her.
“You want to go to the bookstore with me?” she asks. “I like doing that on Sundays too sometimes.”
“Sure,” I say, not even hesitating. “Generally, I buy them online, but I’m up for the old school way.”
“Ugh,” she scoffs. “That’s not fun. Don’t you want to feel them? Smell them?”
“Did you just ask me if I wanted to smell them?” I ask, making sure I heard her right.
“Of course I did, don’t be ridiculous,” she says, as if it’s the most normal thing people do with books.
“Well, I’ll go, but I’m not smelling any books,” I say, pulling myself up from the chair and heading to grab my keys and coat.
“We will see about that,” she says. “Oh, and one more thing.”
“Yeah?” I ask, turning back toward her in the hall.
“Can I drive?” she asks. “Your car.”
JESUS WALKS
WILL
After Derek begged me a third time to please slow down while driving his beloved jet-black Mercedes Benz, I did. The tension in his entire body physically dissipated, though only slightly.
As we pull up to my favorite locally owned used bookstore, he breathes a loud sigh of relief. “Holy shit, woman,” he says. “We’re not on a drag strip.”
“Oh, relax.” I laugh. “You liked it.”
“No,” he says adamantly. “No, I definitely did not like it.”
“Well, I’m sorry I don’t drive like an old man,” I tease, my words laced with insinuation.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he says, coming around the car and standing an inch too close for comfort. “Because there’s nothingold manabout me.”
His words come out like a challenge, a dare. As if to say, “I’ll show you I’m not an old man.” Though, I’m sure that’s not what he actually means. I’m likely blurring the lines between my own projected fantasies and reality.
The statement borders flirting, and Derek and I have never flirted.Have we?Thinking back, I recall a handful of times I caught him smiling at me, causing my heart to do flippies in my chest. Of course, I’d always chalked those sly grins up to either coincidence or my imagination.
Derek holds the door to the bookstore open for me and I trail behind, trying like hell to rid myself of these delusions.
I make my way to the section in the back, shelves spilling over with psychological thrillers and horror. To my surprise, Derek follows. I had assumed he’d split off, going his separate way to find his titles of interest.
But as I pick up a novel from Victoria Ellis titledSinners’ Retreat, I note him studying the spines of a section specifically composed of mostly vampire novels.
“Looking for something in particular?” I ask. “Maybe I can help you. Then again, there aren’t many stuffy biographies over here.Interview With A Vampireis probably the closest thing you’ll find.” I press my lips together to keep from giggling.
Derek narrows his eyes at me. It’s like they’re freaking smoldering. “What do you recommend, connoisseur of the dark and deranged?” he asks, a hint of a smirk on his lips.
Walking toward the toothy selection, I immediately spot the book I have in mind for him.
“Here,” I say, shoving it into his hand.
