Page 45 of All Your Firsts

“No,” all of us say in unison.

“You guys are no fucking fun,” Trey mutters as he hoists the dead man over his shoulder. “Later, Vic.”

Eleven

Rosie

I’m assaulted by a mix of vanilla and musty scents as I browse the aisles billowing with books, begging for their second chance at a new home. My eyes scan the titles on each spine as my hand glides against the smooth cedar bookshelves.

The Book Haven is about to become one of my favorite places. It’s what I would consider a gem in this little town. They seem to have every book imaginable.

Among my great loves, reading holds a special place in my heart, alongside painting and dancing. They’re all art forms and bring you to a place outside yourself and your life. It’s a way to feel free, if even for a short time.

I get this from my mama. She has a library I hope to one day emulate with its floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a ladder that glides across the room, and comfy couches scattered everywhere.

Until I can have a library of my own, this is the perfect place to get lost in for hours.

A refuge that offers a sense of peace.

Few sounds disturb the otherwise quiet old store as I continue to browse.

The wood floors creak as if on cue. I glance to the left, and then to the right, but come up empty in the dimly lit aisle. Only shelves standing still and quiet under the immense weight of all the books crammed on them.

My earlier attempts at finding a book continue until I feel a prickling sensation against my face. Someone’s watching me.

My hand rests on a book’s spine just as something falls on the other side of the bookcase, but I don’t dare move.

My eyes dart back and forth anxiously, but my body remains paralyzed for what feels like an eternity.

The longer I stand there, unmoving like a statue, the more foolish I feel as silence engulfs me again. There’s nothing besides me and thousands of books.

My mind is obviously messing with me. I shake my head.

Ever since that fateful night at the bar a couple of days ago, I’ve been on edge, my heart racing with every little sound. I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s eyes are fixed on me. The more I think about it, the more I feel the weight of regret for not telling Vic about what that guy said.

When I hear the floor creak again, my heart rate accelerates as a ball forms in the back of my throat.

I grab the book my hand rests on without reading the title and hold it tight to my chest. Quickening my pace down the wall of shelves, I take a hard right further into the back of the bookstore. Passing by many large shelves, I attempt to get lost in the sea of books.

I look around, feeling silly and paranoid when I hear nothing but my ragged breath again.

The bookshelves catch my attention once more, and I eagerly browse the selection of contemporary romance novels. After all of this, I’m in the mood to read something sweet and funny.

As I peer around the shelf, my breath catches in my throat as I spot movement out of the corner of my eye. I crouch down to get a better view and see a white shirt partially covered by a black zip-up hoodie. Then, I smell the telltale sign of cologne. A scent I’ve become quite familiar with.

One that lingers and travels through the wind to find me.

Suffocating my senses with its sexy, masculine scent.

My eyes narrow, and I rush down the aisle to face him.

He ignores me for days, then follows me around like a creep? I don’t get it.

When he first ran out on me, I couldn’t help but feel hurt and disappointed. I didn’t know what to expect after something like that, but it wasn’t him practically running from the scene.

Maybe he was terrified that I confided in him about my dream of opening an art studio. Probably thought I fell for him after the little humping session and was talking about my future.

Once the post-orgasm glow ran its course and he kept his distance, I felt disgusted with myself. I was just another notch for him. I was no better than Samantha, who still hates me because of him.

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