Kolby’s choice is a romance about two gamer dudes who take a road trip together to a cosplay convention. The cutesy cartoon cover looks a lot like the covers of the other romance books I’ve seen scattered around the store—except that it has two guys on it. It’s surprising and comforting and, yeah, hella uplifting to see two dudes getting the same treatment as all the hetero, cis gender couples.
“Here you go.” He hands me the Ruth Ware book and sees me eying his pick. He grabs a copy and holds it out to me. “You should read it. I think you’d like it. It’s sweet. And funny.”
I shake my head. “That’s okay, thanks.”
“You know, you don’t have to be gay to appreciate gay romance. Love is love and all that jazz.”
I could correct him. Admit that I’m bi. But I chicken out, going for the easy excuse. “Between hockey and school, I don’t have much time to read for pleasure.”
I don’t tell him reading has never been all that pleasurable for me. It’s all I can do to slog through my classwork and get to bed at a semidecent hour most nights. It’s not that the letters flip or jump around or anything like that. I’m just a slow reader. It takes a few times through for what I’m looking at to sink in.
He shrugs and puts the book back. “Anything else I can help you with?”
“Did you say something about scented candles? She might like one of those, too.”
“Smart man. Chicks really dig them. They’re right over here.”
I follow him to a display directly in front of the register.
“What do you think she’d like best?” he asks, touching the various candles as he reads their names. “Aged Paper? Reading On A Rainy Day? Or how about Castle Library? It says it smells like a cozy fireplace surrounded by antique woodwork and endless shelves of books.”
“That last one sounds good.” She likes reading by the fireplace. Although ours is gas. And our house was built in eighteen-something-or-another. It’s full of old wooden shit. Crown moldings. Curved bannisters. Oak floors.
He picks the candle up and puts it on top of my book. “Come on. I’ll ring you up so you can get out of here. I’m sure Moo U’s newest hockey heartthrob has places to go and people to see.”
“Heartthrob? What happened to hockey god?”
He shrugs again, this one accompanied by that crooked grin of his, the one that breaks down all my defenses. “What can I say? You’ve been demoted.”
Ouch. Can’t say I don’t deserve it, though, after the way I blew him off at the Green Bean. Time to put on my big boy pants, swallow my pride, and admit I screwed up.
He heads for the register at the other end of the counter, expecting me to follow him. I do for a couple of tentative steps, then my feet freeze. Once I’ve paid for my purchases, I’ll have no reason to hang around. And no chance to apologize.
“Wait.” The word bursts out of my mouth like a gunshot before I can suck it back in. But once I start, there’s no going back. “Can we talk?”
Christ, that sounds so pathetic. I half expect Kolby to laugh in my face.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns and lays that there-go-my-defenses smile on me. “Isn’t that what we’ve been doing?”
I look around the store. There’s about ten people I can spot milling around, at least a couple I recognize from around campus. And that doesn’t count the ones I can’t see in all the store’s nooks and crannies. Hidden from view but still close enough to overhear us.
That’s way too many potential snoops for me. It’s awkward enough having to admit what a jackass I was. I sure as hell don’t need witnesses. Ones with big ears and even bigger mouths.
I drop my voice and take a step closer to him. “Somewhere a little more private.”
He follows my lead, lowering his voice and closing the distance between us. “Whatever you want, Puck Boy.”
Okay, so I’m back to Puck Boy. I should mind, but I don’t. Especially when it’s paired withwhatever you want.
“Tell you what,” he continues. “Give me the book and candle and like forty bucks. There’s a service entrance out back where some of the staff takes breaks. Someone even set up a couple of Adirondack chairs. I’ll ring up your stuff and meet you there in five.”
“Aren’t you on the clock?” I thought we’d find one of the more remote nooks in the bookstore, not go outside. I don’t want to get him in trouble with his boss.
“I’ll tell Harrison I need to talk with a classmate about a group project.”
That must be his boss. Probably the hot older guy with the hipster glasses who I wanted to punch. “Group project?”
“Harrison’s a big proponent of higher education. He never says no to anything that involves school.”
