Page 35 of Love By the Book
The excitement bubbling in my chest meets something else—something that feels suspiciously like regret. Because I told myself this envelope would decide everything. Now that it has, my stomach swoops with the kind of sinking feeling you only get when you realize, too late, that maybe you wanted a different answer.
Last night, under a sky full of shooting stars, Eli Lancaster kissed me like I was something precious. Like I was worth discovering.
I thought I never wanted to be seen again, not really. But now? Now I’m terrifyingly starting to consider that being seen, by the right person, could be a good thing.
Maybe.
“Do you want to tell your dad, or can I?” Mom is beaming, color flushing her cheeks. I should be in awe of her support, should be matching her enthusiasm watt for watt. This is what I’ve wanted. What I promised. What I literally backtracked adult steps and moved in with my parents to achieve.
All I can think about is the way Eli’s voice gets soft when he talks about reading the same folklore someone else shared around a fire a thousand years ago. About the way he bows his head when he laughs at my silly puns. About the warmth and strength of his hand in mine at the meteor shower.
“You can tell him,” I manage, trying to sound normal. Trying not to think about how Dad will absolutely want to help me research every library I’ll visit, how he’ll probably start sending me articles about each country’s literary history. How Eli would love that about him.
Mom plants a kiss on my cheek then glides toward the exit. I’m left standing, stunned, the future I’ve worked and planned and hoped for in my hands. But I don’t look at the letter again. Instead, I fish out my cell phone (a foolish thing to keep on me as service never works around the Cove anyway) and open the message Eli sent me last night.
Sweet dreams, fellow stargazer.
Four words shouldn’t be able to raise my body temperature a dozen degrees. Shouldn’t be able to conjure up the taste of his kiss, the rumble of his laughter.
I slide the letter into my bag, but not before running my fingers over theWorld Library Tour Fellowshiplogo one more time. This is my dream. My plan. Everything I’ve worked for.
It’s just… Now there’s this other feeling too, taking up space in my heart right next to my wanderlust. This warm, dizzy, terrifying feeling that has everything to do with the way Eli looks at me like I’m his favorite undiscovered story.
I take a deep breath and let reality settle into my bones. This thing with Eli is just a feeling, not my future. I won’t tell him about the fellowship. Not yet. I’m only a semi-finalist and we’re just… exploring.
No need to weigh down a summer adventure with long-term plans.
Not when everything’s still so beautifully, terrifyingly uncertain.
Eli
A sharp knock on my office door startles me from the massive tome I've been cataloging all morning. It's a medieval manuscript on Celtic tree deities that I unearthed from the dustiest corner of the library's archives—fascinating stuff about druids and their belief that certain trees housed specific magical properties. Before I can rise to answer, the knock sounds again.
"Yes?" I call out, carefully marking my place with an acid-free bookmark.
The door swings open, and in walks Alex Sinclair. Even though we only exchanged a few words during karaoke night atThe Tipsy Mermaid, she left an impression—poised, self-assured, and somehow managing to look effortlessly in charge even while sipping something pink and fizzy from a fishtail-shaped glass. Today, she’s dressed more professionally—polished blonde waves, a sharp linen blazer—but the confidence is exactly the same.
"Hi, Eli,” she says. “Alex Sinclair. We met a few weeks back.”
"Oh—oh, yes. Of course. Karaoke night." I jump up,nearly knocking over my stack of research notes. "I never got the chance to say—I had an amazing espresso blend atSinclair’smy first day in town. It might’ve convinced me to stay permanently.”
Her smile widens. "Rhianna loves the blends we make as well, actually.” She steps further into the room, casually scanning the chaotic sprawl of books and notes. “And she’s actually the reason I’m here today.”
My heart gives a quiet stutter at the mention of Rhianna's name, immediately followed by a rush of anxiety. Is something wrong? Did I miss a message from Rhianna? Did I somehow inadvertently offend her at our last meeting? She had book club last night, so I didn’t see her. But she seemed okay when we texted goodnight. My mind races through our last conversation, searching for any missteps. Or worse—is this some kind of friend reconnaissance mission?
I clear my throat, attempting to appear calm despite the sudden spike in my pulse rate. "Oh? Is everything alright with Rhianna?"
Alex smirks, and I realize I've probably revealed more than I intended with my concerned expression. "Everything's perfect. She actually speaks very highly of you, which is part of why I'm here."
It’s been days since the meteor shower, but I can still feel the press of her lips against mine, the way everything else slipped away as the stars streaked across the sky. She kissed me like we were writing our own story—one neither of us had planned but both of us felt coming.
"Please, feel free to have a seat," I say, bringing myself back to the present as I gesture to the chair across from my desk while trying to look like a man who hasn't spent most of his morning daydreaming about her friend instead of tackling the overwhelming workload still waiting on his desk.
"Thanks for letting me drop in," Alex says as she sits. "Iknow Rhianna mentioned you prefer scheduled appointments."
I feel my face warm. "She did?"
But of course she did. Rhianna seems to see straight through me—like she already understands that unstructured social events are mildly excruciating and that I need to be coaxed out of my head like a wary animal. That I lose track of time when I’m deep in focus, and the last thing I want is to be interrupted mid-stream. It’s equal parts unsettling and… oddly comforting. Like maybe she understands me in a way I never expected to be understood.
