Page 86 of A Novel Love Story

“Bees,” Thomas replied, going straight to the nature section on the far left wall. “I need something aboutbees. There’s about to be a mutiny, Anders, and I can’t have that on my watch.” He plucked a book off the shelf and flipped through it, and then put it back. Then did the same to another one. “Hmm.”

Anders glanced up, and found me standing on the second-floor balcony, at the rail. His eyes held mine, bright pools of minty herb, like fresh grass on a hot summer day. He wasn’t surprised to see me. He must’ve heard me come out of the loft and walk across the second floor—the boards were a bit creaky, and I was too lost in my own head to notice. Not surprised, then, but … relieved? Like he had been waiting all morning. I remembered how he smelled last night, like cedarwood and black tea, and how warm I felt against him.

“Sleep well?” he mouthed.

I mouthed back, “Tylenol?”

He nudged his head toward the counter and nodded. “And coffee.”Be still my heart. I couldn’t come down the stairs fast enough. As I passed him by the nature section, he said, “Good morning, Elsy.”

“Morning, Anders,” I greeted. “Thomas.”

“Morning,” Thomas said absently, and plucked another book from the shelf. “No, nothing here, either …”

While Anders helped Thomas try to find a book on beehive mutinies, I dug around behind the counter for the Tylenol. It was in one of the cluttered drawers, under a bunch of half-legible bookmarks. I shook out two, and shot them back with a gulp of lukewarm coffee from the Grumpy Possum Café. Anders had probably gotten it for me much earlier, but it’d sat out by the till for at least an hour, so it tasted a bit stale. Still, it hit the spot, and it was the thought that counted.

Maybe after the Tylenol and caffeine, my head would stop throbbing.

“Is that all?” Anders asked, noticing how Thomas kept glancing over at the self-help section. More importantly, the shelf about relationships. “I’m sure I could help you find whatever you’re looking for.”

“No, no, this is good …” he replied, and then flicked his gaze to me. “I’ll just get this,” he added. “I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“Fine. Elsy, since you’re at the counter.” He motioned to Thomas’s book.

“You trust me to do money?”

“I suppose it’s a hard ask for someone haunting the checkout counter’s only barstool.”

Nursing my coffee, I glanced around and—no, he was right. I was sitting on the only stool behind the counter, and I was a little afraid if I moved too much or stood too long,my stomach would have a very hard time staying, uh,settled. “Consider me a wizard with money. A magician of pennies. A—a—”

“Witch of one-dollar bills?” Thomas suggested, and I gave him a finger gun.

“You get it.”

Anders rolled his eyes, and took up his duster again to pursue another thin layer of dust on a shelf in the religion section.

Thomas made sure he was far enough out of earshot before he leaned toward me and said, “Actually, I’m sort of here about a …problem.”

Ohno. I froze as soon as I grabbed his book to scan it. “A what?”

He shifted nervously. “Jake said you helped him yesterday with, erm, with Ruby. That you’re really good at giving pointers. So I just thought …”

My stomach twisted—and it wasn’t from the hangover. “Is something wrong?”

“Wrong? Oh no, no no no,” he quickly replied, shaking his head. “Gemma and I are good! I was just …” He glanced nervously in the direction Anders had gone, and said in an even quieter voice, “I figured, since you’re just passing through, you can help me. I know Anders. Asking him about this might be a bit, erm, awkward.”

And asking mewasn’t? I wasn’t sure I liked where this conversation was going. “Uh …”

He swallowed thickly, darting his eyes about again. There was a thin line of nervous sweat on his upper lip. Oh, poor guy. He never was good under pressure.

“Whatever it is, Thomas,” I said sincerely, “I can help—”

“Sex,” he blurted.

I didn’t think I heard properly. “I’m sorry … ?”

“Okay, so”—and he pulled his fingers through his hair, and the sweat on his hands accidentally made it stand up like a mad scientist—“last night Gemma came home, and Lily was already in bed, and so Gemma wanted us to … try something new. I’m not good at new. I’m good at routine. I’m good at history. I’m good at things that are constant—stars, for instance. Bees, when they’re not trying to mutiny their queen. Schedules and orders and … I guess what I’m saying is, I wasn’t prepared. I froze up. I know this sounds very strange, and this is not a conversation strangers have, I realize, but—I’d rather have it with you than Anders.”

Because I was going to leave, and he’d have to carry on his friendship with Anders—which I’m sure most people could do. But Thomas? He was awkward enough as it was. He didn’t really mess with things that didn’t have an equation to them. And I was an outlier.

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