It’s finally the second Friday of the month.
Book club.
I arrange the chairs hours in advance in the center of the shop, where there’s a big enough gap between the aisles to accommodate everyone, and still barely manage to have everything set up by the time they filter in.
I wish I had the chance to join them tonight. Especially with the book they’re discussing:The Prince’s Knife, still one of my all-time favorites. But I’ve fallen behind on some of our bookkeeping and promised Jade I’d keep on top of it. So it’s not until almost closing time that I manage to sneak by the group and catch a snippet of their discussion.
When I finally do, the voice I hear rising above the others makes me pause.
“See, that’s what I’m having trouble with here,” Justin is saying, sounding confused. “How is Malachi the hero of this story?”
I peak around the corner, to be sure, and there he is, seated in the circle of women, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. His copy ofThe Prince’s Knifeis resting on his lap, and the women in the circle are giving him their full attention, excited but nervous to have a good-looking guy join the group and express an interest in their favorite books. I get it. He’s cute, with his artfully disheveled pitch-black hair, and those dimples…
I can tell why these women might be in a bit of a tizzy over him.
But I’ve known Justin for too long, it’s hard to picture him as anything but the little kid who used to give Jade wet willies and cut the power during our horror movie marathons to hearus scream. So, even though I have to admit that he’s become objectivelyveryattractive, I just can’t separate him from the lanky brat he once was.
“Take the forest scene, for example,” Justin is saying, tapping his fingers against his knee. “In what world is he not the villain here?”
“It’s all about perspective,” Jennifer is telling him. When he glances over at her, she shifts slightly under his gaze, touching her hair nervously. “That scene is written from Phaedra’s point of view for a reason. When Malachi finds her in the forest and ties her to that tree, we know she consents. She wants him just as much as he yearns for her.”
There are murmurs of agreement.
“Okay,” Justin concedes. “ButMalachidoesn’t know that. He doesn’t even give her a chance to consent. I mean, he only removes the gag once, and he only does it to put his dick in her mouth, so?—”
Julia erupts into a shocked giggle, drowning out Justin’s next words.
“Sorry.” She blushes, covering her face with one hand and waving her outburst away with the other. “Nervous habit.”
A few of the other women in the circle grin, blushing. It’s fun reading these books, discussing them with our friends, and sharing our fantasies in a safe space together. But there’s always a dynamic shift when a man enters those spaces, even when they have the best intentions. We might be able to read these books stone-faced in public, but having him here is like being caught watching porn. It shouldn’t be embarrassing, but it somehow is.
And it’s extra embarrassing to be discussing them in front of a man who looks like Justin. A man who could—with a few personality tweaks—be one of these characters.
“Hang on, though. He’s a vampire, right?” Sarah points out. “So, he can like… smell her arousal, can’t he?”
Justin goes still while the other women around the circle nod in agreement. He blinks once. Twice.
“I’m so sorry,” he says with a deep breath, a pink blush spreading over his face, turning the tips of his ears red. “Did you just say he can smell her arousal? Because he’s a vampire?”
Jennifer nods enthusiastically.
“That’s just canon,” Sarah explains, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Werewolves can do it, too.”
“And the fae,” Jennifer adds.
“That’s…” Justin takes another deep breath. “That’s a thing? In these books?”
“In fantasy romance? Yeah,” Sarah tells him, nodding.
Justin looks like he’s trying not to pass out.
“My point,” Jennifer says with emphasis, “is that it was consensual. And heknewthat.”
“Consent requires a vocal yes. This?” Justin waves the book around. “Smelling her arousal? That is not vocal consent.”
“It’s romantic,” Sarah insists with a shrug.
“It’s a sex crime,” Justin snaps, a brief flicker of anger crossing his face.
