Page 17 of Bookish Boys Don't Date Social Girls
I rub my lips together. “I don’t know if it’s the challenge of getting him to show interest in me, or the fact that you suggested him in the first place, or what, but I get tongue-tied and giddy when I’m around him, and it isn’t like me. I don’t like it!” Mostly. But I don’t want to admit that a part of me enjoys the challenge and the thrill of anticipation.
“You’ll figure it out, Sam,” Bek says. “I believe in you.”
I look from Bek to Ava, and I realize they both believe in me. I take a deep breath and nod. “I believe in me, too. Now, what do you want to watch?”
I pick up the remote and start browsing.
Chapter Nine
After changingoutfits half a dozen times, I scold myself for putting far too much thought into what I’m going to wear to the bookstore. I purposefully choose simple summer clothes, white shorts, a blue sleeveless top, and strappy sandals. My hair is even in a ponytail. Everybody knows that a girl isn’t trying to impress anyone when she’s wearing a ponytail, right?
I hop into my car and head downtown. As I approach the bookstore, my mouth is already dry. I wish I understood why Bookstore Boy is so different from the other boys.
As I push through the door, I’m momentarily distracted by how empty the store is. There are usually at least a couple customers browsing and others seated, but today, there is a single gal sitting at a table typing furiously on her laptop. She has big headphones on that I’m guessing have something to do with the speed at which she’s typing. I turn my thoughts to the front counter and freeze in my tracks when I find Callie there. She looks up and smiles, so I stumble into action again as if my forward progression will somehow cover up the fact that I am there to see Brent. I mentally scold myself to relax.There is no way she would know my true reason for being in the store.
Suddenly, I don’t know what to do. I can’t buy the magazine if he isn’t here. Then I would need to make up another excuse to come to the store and it would become obvious, wouldn’t it? I’m confused and don’t know what to do, so I end up standing in front of the counter like a lost lamb.
“Can I help you?” Callie says.
“Um, yeah. I think I want a mocha, please.” What the heck. I’m here. I can sit and enjoy a coffee at least. I plop on a barstool.
“Whipped cream?”
“No thanks.” I pick up a cute little pocket travel guide of our hometown and start paging through it. Our town is microscopic, so it makes sense that the guide is minuscule as well, but I’m surprised to find a write-up on the annual ghost tour they host at Halloween time and instructions on how to access the local’s menu at the café on Third Street.
Callie sets my mocha down in front of me.
“This is adorable.” I wave the little book.
“I know,” she enthuses. Then she tips her head back. “Turn to page thirty.”
Page thirty is almost at the end of the book. The chapter heading is Celebrity Lineage. I arch an eyebrow at Callie, and she nods knowingly. I skim the page, but I’m quickly tripped up by seeing “the Post family” mentioned. I return to the beginning and read from the start.
Our little townof Oak Grove has a lineage involving the local Post family that most people don’t know about. Our very own Aiden Post is the great-grandson of one of our town’s founding fathers, Earnest Post, a publishing magnet at the turn of the century. Earnest Post was editor-in-chief at the esteemedSteamer Press. His son, Truman Post, gained his own fame as the Publisher at Flapper Press. Aiden’s father and uncle each ran one of the publishing houses, but Aiden inherited them both when the men passed. He combined the two presses under one umbrella and then started a third imprint as well. He has grown the business into a world-renowned publishing house that produces no fewer than 150 new titles each year across the three imprints. The Post family quietly supports our schools by donating books and sponsoring author visits every year. He funds the high school debate team and the academic decathlon. And all the while, the people of Oak Grove are unaware of all he has accomplished and all he does for our community. Three cheers to the Post family.
I lookat Callie with my mouth hanging open. “Is Aiden Brent’s dad?”
She nods with a knowing look on her face.
“Brent is descended from Oak Grove’s founding fathers?”
She leans forward like we’re sharing the biggest secret together. “Isn’t that a trip?”
It’s no wonder Brent’s bookish if he comes from a long line of publishers. I bite my lip and wonder if he’s always silently correcting my grammar. Can he even help himself?
“Is Brent off today?” I ask since we’re talking about him anyway. That seems like a normal question, right?
“No, he’s in the back, stocking. Do you want me to tell him you’re here?” Callie asks.
I look at her in surprise. “No! Why would I want that?”
“Don’t panic.” She laughs. “I just thought you were friends.”
“Oh, no.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I thought she figured me out. “I mean, we know each other. But we aren’t friends.”
Someone walks up to the register, so Callie walks away. Ipage through the little guidebook to see if there are any other interesting town facts that I can learn. Then I slide the book back onto the display rack.
I’m considering my next move when Brent walks in from the backroom. His hair is messy, his shirt wrinkled and dirty, and his muscles glisten with the sheen of sweat. He’s wiping his hands on a rag as he walks behind the counter.
