“And the rest of the time I’m busy volunteering at the Humane Society,” he adds.
… Okay, that was weird.
Nevertheless, he tells me, he’s determined to win back his reading mojo. I raise an eyebrow at the thick spines he’s holding beneath my paperbacks. “And you’re thinkingThe Vast Gray Nothingis the way to do that?”
“What?” He frowns at me. Even when he frowns, he’s smiling. “I heard it was good.”
“I heard it’ll bulldoze your heart and leave you a shell of your former self. But, hey, to each their own mojo.”
We cross back through the courtyard’s cloister walkway, the softly glowing pendant lamps tracing his face in gold. “Maybe you should give me one of yours, then. Show me what I’m missing.” He taps a finger on the bright yellow book on top of my stack,A Farce to Be Reckoned With. “This one looks fun.”
I smile and defensively twist away. “You can pry it from my cold, dead hands. I’ve been waiting to read it for months.” I stop at a stone bench to reorder my stack, handing him a worn copy ofTwo If by Sea. “Try this one. I’ve already read it twice. I should probably just buy it at this point.”
He peruses the cover as we journey on toward the foyer. “Anna Matthews. She sounds familiar.”
“She’s my favorite. I dare you to read any of her books without kicking your feet up and giggling.”
He sets my books down gently at the checkout kiosk, then leans in and, with a low voice that sends those goddamn tingles back down my neck, says, “Ineverturn down a dare.”
When it’s Jack’s turn to check out, I give him athanks, nice meeting yousmile and borrow a corner of the information desk to wrangle my belongings. A library employee passes by, eyeing my books as I fish a balled-up canvas bag from my coat pocket.
“Ah, a reader after my own heart!” she trills, peering at my copy ofJust Between Usover turquoise-framed glasses. “I love Anna Matthews. Did you hear she’s finally writing a new book?”
“What?” I pull out my phone and rush to Anna’s long-dormant Instagram. Sure enough, there’s a new post: a single red square overlaid with the textA SURPRISE FOR YOU. STAY TUNED …And beneath it, a book emoji and a shushing face.
I screenshot it to send to Steph later, mentally drafting a barrage of all-caps texts while shoving the remaining books in my bag and heading for the exit.
I stop short at the sight of Jack in the vestibule doorway. He sees my tote and gapes.
“You had that big bag on you all this time?” He shakes his head, tsk-tsking me. “And here I thought you only wanted me around for my book-carrying abilities.”
I cough out a laugh. “You don’t bag up your books before checkout, unless you’re trying to look like a thief,” I say. He holds the main door open for me and we step out into the cold air. “I assure you, I was only thinking of crime aversion.”
“I see,” he says, nodding with mock solemnity. “And you took the long way out here because …”
“Because the courtyard is the best part of the library, and I never leave here without walking through it.”
“Right,” he says. A dimple reappears on his cheek. Wielding a one-sided smile like that should require a license. “Not because you were enjoying my company.”
“No!” It comes out in something like a defensive quack, but then the crinkles of humor by his eyes wear me down. “I mean, you haven’t been theworstcompany,” I concede.
He grins fully and then looks around, something almost sheepish creeping into his expression.
“Do you think I could be not the worst company again sometime?” he asks. “Tomorrow night, mayhaps?”
Mayhaps.Anna Matthews’s favorite word. Now,that’sbizarre.
I stare at him as if he just spoke to me in ancient Greek. How is it possible that I’ve spent the past ten hours or so comparing my pathetic day to the romance genre, and now I’m being pursued by this almosttooperfect, alarmingly Matthewsesque stranger? It’s borderline disturbing, like when you think to a room full of strangerscough if you can read my mindjust for fun, and then someone does.
I clear my throat. “I, uh, don’t really—”
He squints—not at my eyes but somewhere near my shoulder—and interrupts me as he leans forward.
“You’ve got a little …” His voice trails off as he brushes hishand over my upper arm, immediately drawing goose bumps through four layers of clothing. I look down in time to see a trace of purple glitter falling from my coat, twinkling in the streetlight’s glow.
If my heart fluttered before, it flatlines now.
Everything rushes back to me in kaleidoscopic tunnel vision, echoing dizzily in my ears.
