CHAPTER1
Spencer
“Fuck!”The way this day is ending is beginning to look the same as how it started. Watching the bus drive off in the pouring rain feels like a sad David Tennant, which is practically as bad as a sad Keanu Reeves. Both terribly sad! My clothes are soaking wet, my backpack is being put to the waterproof test, and my spirit is gradually being washed down a dirty street pipe. It’s only a 15 min walk from Camden college to the bookstore, but with no car, it's my legs that are my main mode of transportation, and on days like today it’ssupposedto be the bus.
I should have looked up the weather before leaving for class today, then maybe I could have at least snatched an umbrella. I guess with the April showers bringing May flowers I should have known.
I was running late this morning. I may have stumbled over Gallifrey, andmaybeknocked my bowl of cereal all over the kitchen floor.
Ugh, I am such a mess.I will not cry, nope I will not cry, fuck!Hanging my head in defeat, I start my walk home.
The sound of the pouring rain drowns out the bell ringing above the door when I walk into Dragonfly Books.
I straighten my shoulders. I’ve got this. Everything is going to be fine. It’s fine.
“Spencer I was…..” when Jules sees me, her question cuts off when a slight smirk appears on her face. Jules is a short, tiny little spitfire, with purple hair. God, I love her. She’s the best when it comes to friends. Judging by the twinkle in her eye, she might be moved down the list.
Jules and Alex have been my best friends since elementary school. They are the two people who will be in my corner and still call me on my bullshit. If I’m being honest with myself, they are the only people I have.
“Shut it, Jules… Ugh, why does this always happen to me?” Okay, again, maybe I could have checked the weather, but still. “Class ran late, and I missed the bus.” The squishy sounds of my shoes emphasize my current condition. I try to shake the water out of my hair.Yeah, that accomplished nothing.
“Why didn’t you call me?” Jules says.
“And what would you have done?” I asked.
I glance at my best friend, and I know the exact moment she takes pity on me. Exhaling a sigh, I let my shoulders slump back down.
I’m in my last semester of obtaining my business degree and running thin, I feel like I might crack into a million pieces. I’m so drained, and worn out, I just want to faceplant into a giant bed of pillows. Or, in my situation, a queen-sized bed with very flat pillows.
Standing in the middle of the store soaked through to the bone is not helping. My tee shirt is sticking to my slim frame, and I’m pretty sure my freezing nipples are on full display. Don’t even get me started on my skinny jeans, which, of course, are hiding absolutely nothing. I’m a shivering mess, barely holding on.
Jules makes her way around the counter with a cup of coffee in hand. She stands in front of me, handing me the steaming hot cup.
A small frown appears on her face as I see the understanding in her expression.
“It’s going to be fine, Spencer. You’ve got this. Why don’t you run upstairs and change out of the wet clothes? It’s been a slow night with the rain.”
What Jules doesn’t mention is that it’s slow on most nights, not just because of the rain.
“Okay, thanks, I’ll be quick,” I reply. “Did you get the boxes unpacked?”
We have some new class books that just arrived. We need to catalog them and email all the students waiting. It is our saving grace. The only thing keeping us out of the red.
Jules rolls her eyes. “There is one box left to log. Now go, so I can clean up your wet spot.” She winks.
Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes as I walk towards the back. “Cute Jules, very cute, your brain is always on sex.”
She places her hands on her hips and looks at me like I’ve lost my marbles. “Of course, my brain has a direct line. Someone needs to remind us to have some fun!”she hollers back.
Jules has worked in the bookstore for the last few years and has been a big help during my so-called trial run. When my mom died, the plan had been to go to college, get my business degree and then take over the family business, Dragonfly Books, which was currently being held by a trust that my mom arranged. It was her pride and joy. She built this place from the ground up.
I see her everywhere I look. Her smile and laugh still echo through the old brick building. For her, I need to make this place survive, and if I’m being honest, for me too. I love this place, it’s home. I don’t know what I would do if I failed; I can’t fail!
People loved my mom. She was so warm and welcoming. She had this easy way about her that made customers flock to her. The next thing they knew, they were grabbing a cup of coffee, a book, and sitting in front of the fireplace to read. She could talk your ear off about old classics and new releases. People came for more than just books, they came for the atmosphere. They came for her.
The store is open and airy, with some tables, big comfy chairs, and a couch sitting in front of the fireplace off in the corner. Short bookcases are scattered throughout the front with floor to ceiling books on the sides. The whole place just feels like a bookstore. It has so many nooks and crannies to hide out in while you get lost in a book. When I was younger, I’d spend many hours holed up in my favorite spot. It was like my security blanket, still is sometimes.
I walk past the small office and out the back door.
