Olivia
Me: Boswell or Voyageur?
IquicklytextCarolineasI get ready for the day. The goal is to change into something cute but comfy, that looks nice but also not like I'm trying too hard. It's just Noah, this man has seen me through the thick of my high school phase. So why it matters now, I really don’t know.
Caroline and I go to a bookstore together once a month, picking out some new books, one we both get, one the other recommends, and one we want to read ourselves to share throughout the month. We alternate stores because there are so many great ones here, including both new and used bookstores. I have to show Noah the best, which means either Boswell or Voyageur, and it's impossible to pick between the two.
Caroline: Why? I say Voyageur. Strictly for the cats.
She replies moments later.
Caroline loves Voyageur, mostly because she can pick out books while petting and hanging out with the store cats. Whereas, I don’t care much for the cat snuggles and would rather pick out a good book. Caroline and I haven’t talked much about Noah since the day I got back from Fisher Creek, and I don’t know how to tell her he is here. At least Cole is here and I can pawn them off each other on that.
Me: Cole & Noah are here. Noah wants a city tour before drinks today and requested the first stop - my FAVORITE bookstore.
I add a wide eye emoji to the end of that.
Caroline: Cole is here??????????
Caroline: And Noah?
Caroline: Since when? Why?
She immediately types back, each message individual in rapid fire. Caroline has always had a soft spot for Cole, and we love all hanging out together when he is in town. But I can’t help but wonder if there’s anything going on between the two of them. They are each a little squirrely around the other.
Me: No clue, but honestly not complaining. Still on for drinks tonight?
Caroline: Abso-fucking-lutely
She replies with a smile and a glass of brown liquid symbolizing a bourbon glass emoji. She must be having a heck of a day at work. I start to wonder what kind of catastrophe she is witnessing today to warrant that type of response. Being a journalist in a large city, with the primary role of covering breaking news must actually be exhausting.
I pull out an oversized cream-colored cable knit button-up sweater to wear over a tank top and leggings. I have thicker mid-calf height socks and Blundstone boots on trying to brave the cold. Living in the city is a blast but the best way to do a tour of our favorite places is walking which means layers, layers, layers. My dark gray mid-thigh length puffer coat is less than flattering but does a great job at blocking out the wind while walking through downtown.
Since Cole decided to bail on our city tour, probably to allow us some quality "catching up time", please let my eyes roll harder at him next time. I want to be strategic on tour stops. We can’t go anywhere alone, I cannot be trusted alone with the faint upward curl of his lips, or the perfect wave to his dark brown hair that I want to sink my hands back into.
Okay, I need to stop. It’s only been two weeks since I touched him last and I'm acting like it has been a century and he’s not even mine to touch.
Boswell is usually jam-packed on a Saturday afternoon, especially in January. So naturally the day I want it to be busy happens to be the one day and hour there’s no one inside.
Bernadette, the store manager, gives me a smile and a quick wave as we walk through the old heavy door, which is my sign that I might spend too much time here.
Noah has never fully admitted to everyone that he loves books, but it’s also always been clear by the way he stands taller and the small thin smile that creeps along his face that he is obsessed. Truthfully, he was a popular, annoying, jock in high school and I imagine that having a secret love for books, of all genres might I add, would hurt his reputation so he kept it on the down low.
I probably would never have known his secret if Cole and I hadn’t tried to surprise him the day after his dad passed with cookies and coffee, and found him sitting on the back deck of his house nose-deep in a fantasy book.
Boswell is an old brick building, with an open concept inside and four distinct rooms that have wall-to-wall bookshelves and a few tables scattered throughout the middle. Each room is dedicated to a different genre with romance and fantasy being the largest found on opposite sides of the building. Presumably to ensure you walk through the entire store to explore the most popular sections, which is a brilliant marketing move that never fails to get me every time.
When we first enter the building I head to the romance section, in dire need of a cheesy, and spicy palate-cleansing romance read, and Noah heads to the fantasy section after talking about a new fantasy author I’ve never heard of. There is a super distinct smell associated with buying new books, similar to that new car smell everyone loves. Me, I'm obsessed with the smell of the bookstore.
The dry earthy scent of the pages contrasts the brightly lit space from the large windows and the snow reflecting from the outside make this my little piece of heaven. I take my puffer jacket off and wrap it through the strap of my bag so I have free arms and hands for all the books I am about to engorge in. I find myself in front of the new release section, nose-deep in the new release from my favorite author, fully immersed in the smell and feel of holding it in my hand that I don’t hear Noah walk up behind me until he places a hand on my shoulder.
Practically jumping out of my skin, I whirl around, ready to punch whoever is behind me when I realize it’s Noah.
Realizing he startled me, and knowing my history as a klutz, he reaches out to catch me, resulting in his hands on either side of me against the shelf that I’m now leaning against, the book still in my hand, heart racing.
“Little jumpy, huh, Ollie?” he says with a smirk.
“You snuck up behind me out of nowhere!” I retort.
