I glanced at the contemporary romance novel on my lap and briefly considered lying to sound more intellectual. But something about our evolving relationship made me want to be authentic.
A romance novel with horned alien warriors. Pure escapism, but sometimes that’s exactly what I need.
All reading has value. Escapism serves an important purpose.
The book emoji made me unreasonably happy. I imagined him sitting in his labyrinthine home, perhaps in a study lined with ancient texts, carefully selecting an emoji to add to his message to me.
Spoken like a true book lover. Looking forward to tomorrow!
As am I.
Thursday morning dawned bright and clear. I spent an embarrassing amount of time choosing my outfit, finally settling on a light spring dress with a lacy white cardigan and white sneakers that made me feel both comfortable and put-together. Casual, but not sloppy.
As I applied a touch of mascara, I caught myself wondering what Rion would wear. Would he try to disguise his horns again? Would he be uncomfortable in public? What if someone recognized him as… not human?
I pushed the worries aside. TheBook Nook was quiet and dim, with secluded corners and an owner who minded her own business. We’d be fine.
Throughout the morning at work, I found myself checking my phone more often than usual, half-expecting Rion to cancel. Instead, at noon, I received:
Still planning for 3pm?
Absolutely! Looking forward to it.
As am I.
The house emoji again. This time, I thought I understood its meaning better—a symbol of safety, of refuge.TheBook Nook would be our temporary sanctuary.
At 2:30, I left the library, my stomach fluttering with anticipation. As I walked the few blocks to the bookstore, I scrolled back through our recent texts, smiling at the evolution of our communication. From my rambling ladder emergency text and his single period response, to shared photos, personal questions, and yes, even emojis.
We’d developed our own language, Rion and I—a blend of his formality and my enthusiasm, his ancient wisdom and my modern references. Something unique to us, built word by word, emoji by emoji, creating a bridge between his world and mine.
I paused outside the Book Nook, taking a deep breath. Whether this was friendship or something more, I knew one thing with absolute certainty—this communication we’d built had become one of the most meaningful connections in my life.
My phone buzzed one last time before I entered:
Almost there.
And despite all my nerves, I couldn’t stop smiling.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The Book Nook’s wooden door chimed softly as I stepped inside, the scent of books and fresh coffee wrapping around me like a hug.
My nerves were doing nothing so comforting.
I was fifteen minutes early. That was partly because punctuality was one of the few things I did consistently well, and partly because I wanted the most secluded table in the shop before anyone else could claim it.
“Clara. I haven’t seen you in ages.” Marjorie waved from behind the counter. “Your usual?”
“Yes, please.” I smoothed a hand over my cardigan. “And I’m meeting a friend.”
The word felt flimsy the moment it left my mouth.
Friend did not seem quite right for someone who had shown me his hidden home, trusted me with pieces of himself he clearly guarded, and kissed me in the middle of my library in a waythat still had the power to derail my thoughts at inconvenient moments.
“The corner table by history is free,” Marjorie said, already smiling in a way that suggested she had drawn conclusions. “Perfect for a date.”
“It’s not—” I began, and then stopped.
