Page 10 of Bookish Boys Don't Date Social Girls
He stops and narrows his gem-colored eyes at me. He shakes his head.
“When I first got here, you seemed dubious. Then when I asked for this,” I place my hand on my mom’s book, “you said, “that makes sense” or something like that.”
He shifts his weight and again, I’m drawn to the graceful way his body moves. It’s all I can do not to sigh from the pleasure of watching his fine art performance. He’s tall and lean, with just the right amount of muscle tone to not be considered scrawny.
“You never struck me as a reader, but clearly I’m wrong.”
I frown. “Oh, you’re not wrong. I haven’t finished a book in years. I don’t even read the required reading for school.”
He lifts a brow. “That sounds like information you might not want to share so freely. What if I decided to rat you out?”
I cross my arms over my chest. “Would you?”
“I don’t have any reason to now, but you’ve handed me blackmail material.” He waggles his eyebrows, making me chuckle. Then he points to the magazine lying in my lap. “And you do read.”
“This is a magazine. This isn’t reading.”
Brent tilts his head. His gaze is laser-focused on me. “It’s a socially responsible literary magazine that highlights the plight of underserved people and communities.”
My eyes grow wide. “Oh no! Are you telling me that I’m reading something responsible andeducational?”
“I’m afraid so, Samantha.”
A chill races through me when he says my name. It rolls over his tongue like it belongs to him.
“Please don’t tell anyone,” I beg. “I have a reputation to uphold.”
His expression clouds over. “Yes, you do.”
He walks away and I feel like something went very wrong. I can’t put my finger on what happened, but I’m left feeling rejected or dismissed. Perhaps it bothers me so much because I’ve never felt this way before. Regardless, I contemplate the conversation again and again but, in the end, I’m unable to determine what soured the tone.
When I stop at the register to buy the magazine on my way out, a woman helps me. I scan the store, but Brent is nowhere to be found. I’m equally relieved and bummed that I won’t see him again before I leave.
“Next month’s copy should be here next week,” she says, as she counts out my change.
“That’s what I hear. I’ll definitely be back.”
Not just for the magazine, I think.
Chapter Six
It’sBek’s turn to hang out poolside with me. Ava and Dylan are volunteering at some ranch for old dogs, or something. I’m in the shade of the umbrella, but I’m totally envious of Bek, who has taken up residence on a pool raft. A leg dangles over the side of the raft into the water and the hand not holding her non-alcoholic umbrella drink, trails through the water as well. I would be burnt to a crisp in five minutes flat if I did that, but little pixie Bek never even seems to tan, let alone burn.
“We should start a book club,” I say.
Bek sits up, almost toppling off the raft. “Excuse me?”
“There are so many good books to read, and if we did a book club, it would keep me accountable so that I read. Like homework, right?”
It looks like Bek might be squinting at me as she studies me, though it’s hard to tell behind her sunglasses. Then her eyebrows lift from behind the dark frames and her mouth opens in astonishment. “You went to the bookstore.”
She has uncanny people skills for such a flighty girl. That didn’t even take her thirty seconds to figure out. “I actuallyended up there on accident. Well, without knowing I’d end up there. And you two are right. Bookstore Boy is pretty great.”
Bek relaxes back on her raft with a contented smile. “He is. You talked to him then?”
I tell her about our conversation and about how it ended so abruptly.
She purses her lips. “I wonder what that was all about.”
