My room is nothing impressive. It’s relatively bare, “sleek” as some have said. Beyond the vaulted ceilings and the luxury items some interior designer suggested, it looks like any other room. But I’ll admit, I do have an impressive collection of books that stretches from floor to ceiling in one corner.
She spots it and gasps again, pointing and covering her mouth. Her hand drops, and she’s smiling so big, her eyes almost disappear behind the apples of her cheeks. “I never would have guessed you’re a reader.”
“I’m choosing not to take that as an insult.”
“You shouldn’t.” She flies over to the wall of books, her delicate fingers tracing the spines. “I feel like Belle.”
I smirk and tuck the fact away that if she’s Belle, I must be the beast. The irony that she’s now staying in my home is not lost on me.
Her hands press against her cheeks. “This is an impressive collection.”
“Thanks,” I say.
Avery walks from side to side, reading the spines like we’ve got all the time in the world. Today, with no practices, I guess we kind of do.
I watch as she mumbles title after title to herself before finding my collection of paranormal books. She gestures animatedly to them. “I can see where the vampire reference came from. Did you read the wholeStarless Veilseries? I thought the movie adaptations were pretty good. A little cheesy, but hey, what’s wrong with a little cheese every now and then?”
“Do you read?” I ask.
“I mean, I dabble with the occasional romance. That’s why I picked upStarless Veil. I’m a sucker for a romantic subplot. It took me months to finish it though. Too many distractions, ya know? But it was one series I had to know the end to.”
I nod even though, no, I don’t know. A book has to be diabolical for me to set it aside. I always try to finish what I start.
“Well, if you liked that, you should tryCourt of the Hollow Night. I’m almost done with it.”
I don’t mention that if she reads it, I can actually discuss a book with someone for once.
She continues to peruse the shelf. How does she already seem so comfortable here? It’s like a fatal flaw.
“I’ll keep it in mind.” She pauses. “Oh, wow. These are gorgeous.”
“Thanks.” I watch as she fiddles with the gilded lettering running down a collection of green leather spines. “They’re my Dickens books.”
“Did you know Charles Dickens had a pet raven?”
“Uh, no. I didn’t know that.”
“His name was Grip.”
“That’s… interesting.” I chew my lip, unsure of what to say to the random piece of information.
Avery powers on before I can catch up. “So you’re a collector?”
I shake my head. When she arches a brow, I know she won’t let it go until I give her a decent answer. Sifting through my words, I try to keep it brief. “They were my dad’s.”
“Were?” A noticeable sadness sneaks into her wide gaze.
This is exactly what I was trying to avoid. Any time my dad is mentioned in the past tense, people fear the worst.
“He’s not dead, just a deadbeat.” I attempt to smile. It must not land because Avery’s eyes widen even more, and I fear I’ve said the wrong thing.
But then she pipes up. “Well, he might suck, but at least he left you pretty books.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Did he like to read too?”
I nod, unsure if I should divulge more. It’s not something I like to think about. My parents being overwhelmedwith twins, but instead of sticking it out and being a team player, he ditched us. Me, Maggie, my mom. He left her to fend for herself with two toddlers.
