Page 12 of The Now in Forever
“Promise?”
“I don’t even live here, so who would I tell?”
He lets me go, and it feels like getting to the other side of a loop de loop on a roller coaster. Suddenly, the world is right side up again. He still doesn’t say his name, though.
“I promise.”
He lets out a long breath. “It’s short for Edgar.”
“Edgar?” I laugh. Of all the names I thought he might say, that one didn’t occur to me. I thought maybe Theodore, or Edmund, but Edgar?
He nods with his eyes closed, like it pains him to admit it.
“With a name like that, you should be writing horror. Is your middle name Allen?”
He ruffles my hair, and my scalp tingles at his touch. “And you should write middle grade.”
I stick my tongue out at him.
“What did you mean, you don’t live here? Where do you live?”
“Montana.”
“Hell of a commute.”
I laugh. “I stay with my grandparents for the summers. Have since I was a baby. She lives here—well, just a little outside of town on a farm.”
“Ahh. Why get a job if you’re visiting? Couldn’t you just loaf at your grandparent’s? Eat their food, watch movies…”
“I’m saving up for college. Anyway, spending all day in a bookstore sounds more fun.”
“Really?”
I shrug. “I love bookstores. Someday I want to own my own.” My cheeks burn at the admission. I only ever talk about that with Mom, Grandma, Anh, and Robin. I actually took a gap year, thinking maybe I’d skip college and open my bookstore instead, but Mom talked me out of it. Said I should see what career options there are, try some things. She said she’d help with tuition.
He smiles as he gets a stack of books to put away, and I notice thetattoos on his other hand that spell out W-R-IT-E on each knuckle, the tinyIandTsharing his ring finger. “Bookstores are pretty rad.”
A woman walking hand in hand with a small boy with curly brown hair walks in. The boy drops his mom’s hand and runs straight to Ed. “Is it time? Are we late?”
Ed’s eyes go wide as he looks at his watch. “Nope, you’re early. We’ll start in about twenty minutes.”
More adults with children come in and head back to the children’s section.
Ed whispers to me under his breath, “I almost forgot about story time today.” His lips turn up at the corners. “You distracted me.”
I straighten the Post-it pad on the counter, take a pen out of the cup, and then put it back. “Me? I’m super busy working.”
He laughs. “I’m going to grab my guitar from the back. If anyone asks, we start at 11:30. Just point them in that direction.”
“Got it.”
He moves past me, but his spicy sweet scent lingers. Ed is cute, and funny, and he does story time for kids.Is he even real, or did he leap off one of the pages of one of these books?
At 11:33, Ed perches on a tiny purple chair in front of a horde of kids of all ages and sizes sitting with their families. The little boy with the curls is right at Ed’s feet, his face shining as he stares up at him.
“Okay, little dudes and dudettes! Do you know what time it is?”
“Story time!” they all scream.
