“Luna,” I say, shaking his hand. The moment our hands touch, my palm tingles, making me pull back abruptly.
“Sorry, my grip is kind of strong. I didn’t mean to hurt your hand.” Dante says, giving me a cocky grin, and I groan internally, fearing he’s about to be the biggest douche in the gym.
“You didn’t,” I say a little too harshly. He’s being nice andeven apologized. I need to relax. “Sorry. I don’t ‘people’ very much as of late, and I’m rusty on social interactions.” I admit.
That’s great, Luna. Admit that you’re a lonely cat lady while you’re at it.
“That’s okay. I can relate. I made you drop your weights because I couldn’t figure out how to ask the prettiest girl at the gym on a date.”
“Oh, where is she?” I ask, looking around the gym. “Maybe I could help?”
Dante laughs, “I’m looking at her.”
My eyes lock on his. “Me?” I say, pointing at myself. Dante nods, and my cheeks heat. “I’m very flattered, Dante. But I just got out of a bad relationship, and I’m not looking for anything right now.” I blurt.
It’s best to shut him down…right?
“That’s a shame. I’m so sorry you had to go through a bad relationship.” He hands me a black card with the initials DW in gold script, a number on the back. “Whenever you're ready, text me.” He gives me a wink, and I swear I pull a muscle trying not to swoon, because fuck, he’s hot.
For a cocky guy, he sure knows how to take rejection. “And if I’m never ready?” I ask, curious to hear his answer.
“That would be a shame. I think we’d have fun together, Luna. But only if you’re ready.”
Dante answers with a smile. “It was nice to meet you, Luna. I hope our paths cross again.” He turns and heads for the exit without looking back.
I stand there like an idiot with my mouth hanging open at the sheer sex appeal this man carries. He’s so sure of himself, and I admire his confidence, but I’m so confused as to whyhe’sinterested in me. It's not that I’m not attractive—I am, but he’shot, like a Greek god kind of hot, and I’ve never received positive attention from this type of man, so it’s just a bit shocking to me that he’s calling me the prettiest girl in the gym. He was wearing a hoodie and sweatpants, so I couldn’t get an accurate view of his physique. However, from whatIcouldsee, he looks Greek underneath his clothes as well.
Oh, god, Luna. Get it together.
I put my headphones back on, finishing my workout so I can head to the bookstore and end this weird day.
I pull up outside Spines and Steins on E Beverley Street, an Independent bookstore slash brewery in the heart of Boston. My friend Olivia Wilson, whom I met through VidTok, opened her business several months ago, and I attribute much of my success to her. With how hard she marketed my books for me, all while I was on the other side of the country, trying to escape. She deserves all my praise, and I don’t know how I could even begin to repay her.
I walk down the alleyway to get to the employee-only door. It’s Thursday, and the shop is closed for the day, preparing for the weekend. The bookstore is genuinely unlike any other in the city. The brewery portion of the bookstore is open from 5:00 p.m. to 9:00 p.m. during the week, but it closes at midnight on Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays. Meanwhile, the bookstore itself opens at 9 a.m. and closes at 10 p.m., allowing the brewery to remain open for patrons to read their newly purchased books or socialize. The two rooms are separated by a glass door that reminds me of a greenhouse windowpane.
The doorbell chimes as I open it, and a small voice from the back shouts, “Luna? Is that you?”
“It’s me, Liv!” I shout back. I shut and lock the door behind me, turning and making my way to the back of the room.
The shelves that lead to the back are filled with Indie authors from around the country. Whether you’re looking for macabre dark romances or light and fluffy contemporary romances, Spines & Steins has it all.
Olivia started as a BookTok creator, falling in love with reading and promoting the books she read. She built her community from the ground up and has a devoted online following. I was one of her first followers, and after I wrote Vera’s Vengeance, I asked her to read it. Olivia wasmore than happy to help; after reading it, she became obsessed with the storyline and promoted it on her page. We quickly became friends, and she’s someone I rely on heavily nowadays.
If it weren’t for Olivia, my books would have never taken off the way they did, and I would still be trapped with Greg.
I shudder at the thought and push past the beaded curtain to see Olivia standing on her library ladder, organizing the back shelves. “Hey! The special editions are in!” She squeals, almost tipping herself.
I rush to stabilize the ladder and catch it before it falls. “Jeez, Liv! There's no need to die over the special editions.”
Olivia laughs, “Oh, but wait until you see them for yourself, Loo.” She says, using the nickname she’s given me as she climbs down the ladder and takes my hand, “Come on, they're already set up in the front for tomorrow night.” I can’t hide my excitement as we approach the storefront.
Tomorrow night will be my first in-person author event. Olivia organized everything—from the guest list to the theme—and the storefront is transformed entirely; my jaw is on the floor. “Olivia! This is too much!” I say, taking it all in.
The library portion of the store has been repainted from the burnt-orange it was when she bought it to a deep purple that almost looks black. Gothic-style candelabras illuminate the room in warm, incandescent light, evoking the ambiance of an old Victorian library. The brewery portion is painted the same color, but above the bar area is a neon-purple sign reading, ‘Spines & Steins.’ The cheap-looking tables and chairs that came with the building have been replaced with wrought-iron ones, adding another level to the Gothic beer garden that Olivia has always dreamed of creating.
“Nonsense, Luna! You know I have been wanting to paint this place and make it mine since I bought it, and what a more perfect opportunity than when my best friend is hosting her first author event!” Olivia squeals.
I feel tears prickling my lashes. I blink them away and rush to Olivia, squeezing her tightly to keep the tears from falling. “Thank you. For everything.”
