Marie's scent goes taut. Jasper's head turns.
"Hey," Drake says softly. "That's not—"
"It's fine. Let's just check out before I start lecturing strangers about their poor blanket choices again."
The bookstore is worse.
It's my fault. I picked it. I knew what it means.
We walk in and the smell of paper and ink and dust hits like nostalgia and safety and a handful of broken glass.
I have rituals here.
Eli and I splitting in the foyer—him to nonfiction, me to fantasy—and meeting in the middle to trade recommendations. Drake trailing us through the humor section, making commentary. Ragon pretending he doesn't enjoy the woodworking manuals as much as he does.
Marie has never been part of this ritual.
Jasper stands just inside the entrance, scanning. "Spread out. But not too far. I want to see who gravitates to whom."
"We're not electrons," I mutter.
"You kind of are," Eli says.
"Traitor."
He smiles.
Marie hovers in the center, unsure. "I don't really know what I like to read. My old pack didn't encourage hobbies."
Something protective flares in me despite myself. "Okay. Then today you find a book that's just yours. No one else's opinion gets to matter."
"Not even yours?"
"Especially not mine. I'm a snob. Don't listen to me."
Eli shifts like he's about to come with us, then stops when Marie's hand curls, almost unconsciously, in the fabric near his elbow. Not quite touching. But the intent is there.
"Could you help me?" she asks him, voice small. "I don't know where to start."
For a second, he looks toward me.
I see the question in his face.Do you need me?
I also hear the echo:She's his scent match.
"Go," I say before Eli can tie himself into a knot. "You're better at beginner guides. You didn't yell at anyone for dog-earing pages in college. I did."
His lips twitch. "We'll meet you at the fantasy shelves."
"Yeah. Sure."
I wander alone.
My feet know the path. New releases, midlist, backlist. My hands trail along spines like old friends. I pick up a book I've already read three times just to feel the weight of it.
Jasper lurks near the endcap, pretending to read a history blurb. He's not subtle. His eyes track Eli and Marie as they move between shelves, watch how Marie's hand eventually lands on Eli's arm when she laughs at something he says.
I hate how much that laughter doesn't sound fake.
