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“Well now she’s going to assume I’m a proper idiot if you were so desperate to prove we aren’t dating,” Connor said.
“You’re very secure in yourself,” I said. “I’m sure you’re fine.”
“You’re right. But! I would be the best lover in the world.” Connor threw an arm over my shoulder, eliciting a loud crinkling noise from the fabric of my windbreaker.
“No one uses that term in this context—it’s boyfriend,” I said.
“No, I reject the use of such a bland term,” Connor declared. “In courting, the whole point is that you do not wish to be a mere male friend.”
“No one uses the term courting either,” I said.
“Their loss. The point is you should be so lucky to date me!” Connor concluded.
I turned away from him so I could direct my words to Ms. Booker. “I’m looking for the self-help books.”
“I see. This way.” Ms. Booker led me through the store, into one of the side rooms.
Big, sweeping drapes were pulled back from the windows, and the walls were adorned with gray-blue painted paneling marked out with gold edging that were mostly covered by gigantic forest paintings—the smallest of which was the size of my bed.
“This is the drawing room,” Ms. Booker announced. “It contains all the store’s biographies, self-help books, books on languages, and any nonfiction books about supernaturals.” She stopped in front of a shelf and swept her hand towards it. “This is specifically the selection of our self-help books. It’s quite large and wraps around the other side of this bookshelf as it contains books on everything from creativity to stress management.”
I tried to smile. “Thanks,” I said, but my voice cracked mid-word, so I’m not sure I was audible.
“Enjoy,” Ms. Booker left the drawing room, returning to her post at the front desk.
I released the air I’d been holding, which escaped me in a whistling sigh.
“Are you searching for a specific title?” Connor asked.
“No, I just wanted to browse.” I scanned the assortment of colorful bindings. “I’ve already bought a couple communication books from here, but they move through inventory pretty fast so they might have something new.”
“Have you ever thought about getting a book on self-defense?” Connor asked.
For a moment, my heart stopped.
Had he somehow realized?
“No. Why?” I looked away from the books to study his face. He appeared normal with a faint smile on his lips, and his eyes a deep, rich shade of blood red that—in my heart of hearts—I thought was nicer than the more usual crimson-y shade that a good portion of vampires had that made their eyes look kind of bloodshot.
“So, the next time a rogue supernatural loses it in the Cloisters, you can break their nose instead of getting injured,” Connor suggested.
Oh, he’s suggesting because he’s still upset about my injuries.
I chuckled, all worry leaving me. “That’s a good idea. I’ll have to ask Ms. Booker where those types of books would be.”
My response must have pleased him, because Connor’s smile grew, turning him extra handsome. As a vampire he was always good looking—being beautiful made it a lot easier to prey upon humans—so I turned back to scanning the books, unimpressed.
A title jumped out at me,The Quick and Easy Way to Effective Speaking. It looked like the author, Dale Carnegie, had written multiple books on communication.
This might be helpful.
I pulled the book from the shelf while Connor stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “So, since you didn’t get at all embarrassed, I take it you’re not interested in dating in general?” Connor asked.
I paused my inspection of the book. Connor sure was busting out odd topics, but maybe it wasn’t that unusual, because Emi and Sunshine had asked me after we’d become friends.
“Connor,” I started. “I am desperately trying to talk to our apartment neighbors without messing up, and I’m failing at it all the time. Do youreallythink dating is even on the horizon for me?”
“A fair point,” Connor said. “Do you mean to say, then, that you have no experience?”
