Page 5 of Knocked Up By the Grump

He turns toward me, and my heart races in anticipation of his reply. His mask conceals his expression, but there's a subtle charm to the way he tilts his head in acknowledgment.

“If you say so,” he calls back in a deep, resonant voice that holds a touch of intrigue.

With a friendly smile, I continue over the loud music, “I couldn't help but notice your mask. It's rather captivating.”

He shrugs. “If you call a cheesy party costume captivating, then I mean, sure.”

I raise an eyebrow.

What’s this guy’s deal?I wonder.

I pause for a moment to look into those eyes. They draw me in the same way that they had from across the dance floor.

But now that we are talking up close, this does not seem like the man I thought he was. He’s much more…grumpierthan I thought.

And on top of that, I start to notice that his voice and the way he carries himself suggest he's older than I am.

These things briefly make me consider walking away, but there's something about him that keeps me interested.

Maybe it's the mystery of the masquerade or the fact that I’m not even on the guest list for this party, but I decide to stay a bit longer, curious to see where this chance encounter leads.

“Well, okay then,” I yell out, “You don’t like the theme, and you aren’t dancing,” I observe. “So, where would you rather be right now?”

The man grumbles. “To be completely honest, I don’t really know what I’m doing here. I was just thinking of leaving to finish this book I’ve been reading,” he responds.

Books?Have we got ourselves a reader?

“What book are you reading?” I pry, thinking how it's so unusual to meet a guy who actually reads.

He shrugs, unaffected. “It's this novel calledThe Innovator's Dilemmaby Clayton Christensen. It's about improving business practices by branching out to new things rather than staying focused on one thing.”

I pause. Everything he just said goes over my head.

“I don’t always read nonfiction, though,” he says, still raising his voice above the noise.

“Oh?” I ask, ready to learn more. “I've always been drawn to classics, particularly the works of authors like F. Scott Fitzgerald and Jane Austen. How about you?“

“I love classics, too, but I also have a soft spot for contemporary literature, especially when it explores complex human emotions. Have you ever readThe Great Gatsby?”

“Of course, it's one of my favorites. The way Fitzgerald captures the decadence and disillusionment of the Roaring Twenties is simply masterful.”

“I completely agree. And the symbolism throughout the novel, like the green light at the end of Daisy's dock, adds so much depth. It's amazing how a single object can represent so much.”

“Absolutely; the green light is a powerful symbol of Gatsby's unattainable dreams. It's fascinating how authors can weave such intricate layers into their stories.”

A thought crosses my mind as I chat with the man about books. I've never met a guy who genuinely enjoys reading, let alone one who can dive into a meaningful conversation about literature. All of my ex-boyfriends never showed any interest in reading whatsoever. It's a rare gem to encounter someone who shares my passion for books and can engage in a deep discussion about them.

“That's what I love about literature,” I call out. “It's like peeling back the layers of an onion—”

“What about abunion?” he asks.

I shake my head and lean closer. “No, I said anonion. Analyzing a book is like peeling anonion.”

He furrows his eyebrows again. “Did you sayopinion?”

I roll my eyes.Seriously?

“Hey, I can't really hear you that well," he rumbles, leaning closer to my ear. The thumping music has turned our conversation into a muffled exchange. He gestures toward the hallway, his expression carrying a playful spark. “Do you want to go somewhere quieter to continue this conversation?” he yells. “I want to keep hearing what you think.”

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