“Thanks,” she said, walking toward me. “I have a date.”
“Now?”
“Yes.” She dumped a stack of books on the table. “Now.”
I swallowed. “And, uh, what’s all this?”
“Your homework.”
“It’s all so... pink.”
“Quite the observationalist, aren’t we?”
I growled softly—I growled sometimes, let’s get that established right away—and then thumbed through a book at the top of the pile. The cover was a cartoon. Pieces of dialogue were highlighted. There were hearts doodled in the margins. I set the novel down.
“I can’t read this, Katie.”
“Oh, but you can, Tyler. And you will. Today.”
“While you gallivant?”
“Yes. While I gallivant.” She slid another book toward me. Also a cartoon. “Start with this one—it’s my favorite from last year.Meredith blends category and contemporary romance, so you’ll need to master both. I’ll see you when I see you.”
And with that, she was gone, disappearing into the morning like a glittery rodeo clown while Lola, one eyebrow raised, stood behind the counter, eating a blueberry scone and reading Proust.
7
Katie
I found him right where I’d left him, reading commercial fiction. It was nearly five o’clock, and at the corner table he’d inhabited for the past seven hours, Tyler appeared to have consumed three cups of coffee, at least two sandwiches, and four-fifths of a nine-dollar brownie. He was deep in thought, lavender highlighter in hand, his lips twisted and eyebrows tangled as he turned the page. He’d made it to a second-chance cowboy romance by now—and was already halfway through.
“You’re alive,” I said.
He glanced up. For a moment, he held my gaze, and then... nothing. He rubbed his eyes, set down the book, and said, “Barely. This shit is...”
“Clever? Satisfying? Relatable? An escape?”
“I was going to say derivative.”
“Oh, please. Everything is derivative. God forbid you have a lick of fun.”
He scratched his jaw with the cap of my highlighter and said, very quietly, “Am I a Gus?”
I sat down. Immediately. “Are you awhat?”
“A Gus.” He dug a mustard yellow paperback out of his stack.Beach Readby Emily Henry. “The grumpy author guy.”
“It’s a trope, moron. And also, no, because Gus is a successful author, and you’re you.”
“Hilarious,” he said. “And the trope, it’s just... that’s it? It’s really just men who are vaguely sexy and slightly awful, but not to the point of being completely toxic?”
“Ideally, yes. But sometimes, they are very, very toxic. Heathcliff. Mr. Darcy. Christian Grey.”
“Romeo?”
“Oh my god, Romeo! Yes! Walking red flag. Like, the original love-bomber. Complete disaster. Ten out of ten, though. Would totally fuck around and find out.”
Tyler laughed, tapping his fingers on the table. “Hey, are you hungry at all? I can’t eat another sandwich. And, eventually, Lola’s going to start charging me for them.”
