Page 108 of Battle of the Bookstores

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Josie’s panel ispacked—standing room only. I claim a spot in the back and notice with pleasant surprise that Josie is wearing her hair down. I wonder if she decided to forgo the bun because I told her how much I liked her hair down, or if she’s wearing it that way for RJ.

RJ, who she’s meeting for dinner in a few hours.

My stomach churns, and I try to quiet the what-ifs circling my head and focus on the panel, which is in full swing. Josie is the only woman, and the only one under fifty.

“Have any of you had any luck getting Gen Z interested in literary fiction?” the moderator is asking.

Josie straightens. “The other night, we held an event for—”

“How are they going to sit still and read anything worthwhile if they’re stuck on their phones all day?” an old white man—one of four on the panel with Josie—says, interrupting her for the third time in five minutes.

Josie tries again. “I actually think—”

“Their attention spans have been decimated,” another man says, nodding. “It’s a real shame, and—”

“I’m interested in hearing what Ms. Klein has to say.” The room goes quiet, and all eyes dart to the woman in the audience standing up. It’s Penelope Adler-Wolf, Josie’s hero, coming to her rescue. I’m grateful, and a little pissed at myself for not doing it first.

“Go on, Josie,” Mrs. Adler-Wolf says.

Josie flushes—both from the attention and, I bet, from the fact that her idol knows her name.

“I—I was saying that the other day we had an event with a group of teenagers.” Josie’s eyes flit toward me before shelooks back at Penelope. “And a lot of them were interested in literary fiction. These kids aresosmart—yes, they’re on their phones, but that means they have the whole world at their fingertips, exposing them to complex issues. They have strong opinions and real insights to offer. I think we need to do a better job listening to them instead of talking over them.”

Penelope Adler-Wolf smiles and nods in approval. “I agree wholeheartedly,” she says, and Josie glows.

The conversation moves on, but for the rest of the hour, Josie is given the space to talk. Soon, everyone in the room is as captivated by her as I am. When the panel ends, she’s swarmed by people asking her additional questions.

I hang near the door, waiting my turn. It takes almost twenty minutes, but I don’t mind. This is her moment, and I want her to soak it all in.

By the time she’s finished talking to the last person, her cheeks are flushed, and she’s practically floating down the aisle toward me.

“Eeek!” she says, raising her balled fists in celebration. “I did it!”

“You did it,” I say, swooping her into a hug. She feels so good in my arms, I almost forget what happened the last time we touched. I almost forget what we’re doing tonight.

“You were amazing,” I say. “We should celebrate.”

Josie’s smile fades.

“I have plans,” she says. Then her gaze turns icy. “And maybe you do, too?”

She motions toward my cheek.

Fucking Kimberly. I wipe away the evidence of her red-lipstick kiss, grateful it’s at least on my cheek and not my lips. I already have more than enough to explain later.

I can barely swallow past the lump in my throat, but I manage to squeak out, “Maybe we can grab breakfast before the first panel tomorrow?”

Josie’s lips press together. “Sure.”

She turns to go, and I drink her in, knowing the next time I see her, everything will change.

I can only hope for the better.

BOOKFRIENDS

August 18, 5:37 PM

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