Page 99 of Battle of the Bookstores

I’ll give her anything. Even if it’s killing me. Even if I’m starting to worry that this whole thing is going to end with my heart shattered, that I’ve gone and done it again, letting myself fall for someone who doesn’t feel the same way.

Sighing, I stare at the phone. The only thing I know for sure is that nothing can happen between us in real life until she knows the truth. I’m going to have to be patient—but she’s worth it. No question.

RJ.Reads:Of course. But please, not forever.

BookshopGirl:No, not forever. I promise.

25

Josie

Never in amillion years would I have imagined I’d have the time of my life talking to a group of teenagers in outlandish costumes about a fictional dystopian world. But here we are.

The event is part of our plan to bring in a new demographic to the combined bookstore: a discussion about theHunger Gamesseries, inviting participants to dress up—and these kids delivered. I underestimated howawesometeenage book nerds are. Some came in gray and brown clothes to represent the districts, others in colorful feathers and sequins to represent the Capitol. And they were all fully engaged, expanding on the topics I brought up with insightful comments. It was exhilarating and fascinating.

Plus, those kids spent money—or their parents’ money; we sold thousands of dollars of stock tonight, and not just from our new YA section. I wasn’t surprised by the kids who wandered into Ryan’s side and found romances to add to their TBRs. Iwassurprised (and thrilled) by how many came over to my side and asked for recommendations.

“That was incredible,” Ryan says. Everyone is finally gone, and we’re alone. “You were great with those kids.”

“It was so much fun! Different from talking with adults—more challenging. But rewarding. Your staff was great, too.” I think of the distrustful glances they kept sending my way and add, “Even though they hate me.”

He frowns but doesn’t deny it. “They’ll come around.”

“Hope so.” I’ve made it my mission to change their minds about me, and my first step has been watching how Ryan treats them. Not like a boss, more like a friend or a mentor.

“Some of the boys looked like they were developing a crush,” he says in a teasing voice.

“And some of those girls were pretty impressed with your height.” I’d overheard whispers as they pointed at him and grinned at each other.

He rolls his eyes—playfully, but there’s a hint of discomfort.

“You really don’t like being tall?”

“I like being able to reach things,” he says, easily setting a stack of books back on top of a bookcase. “I don’t like not being able to fit comfortably in things.”

“Things?”

“Cars. Shoes. Booths. Airplane seats. Clothes.” His eyes slide over to meet mine. “Beds.”

And just like that, I’m imagining Ryan in my bed, crawling over me, his head brushing my headboard, his feet dangling off the end. My fantasies about him haven’t subsided; if anything, they’ve gotten more vivid. The vibrator isn’t cutting it anymore. I’m a horny mess. I keep trying to tell myself that I’m horny in general, but that’s a damn lie. I’m hornyspecifically.For the guy I’ve been spending twelve hours a day with.

“I can see how that would be hard,” I say, swallowing.

Hard. Oh my god. I’m a freak.

“I don’t like being constantly asked if I played basketball,” Ryan goes on, “and when I say no, people act almost offended, like I’m a waste of inches.” He pauses. “I was seeing this woman once, and she sent me this meme. ‘Is he hot, or is he just tall?’ I’m pretty sure she was telling me that I’m ‘just tall.’ ”

I’m offended on his behalf. “That’s ridiculous—”

“Is it?” There’s a wry smile on his face. “Be honest. If I was a foot shorter, would you have made out with me after my parents’ party?”

My cheeks flush. “A foot shorter…” I mull that over. “You’re what, six-four?”

“Six-seven. And a half.”

I gasp. “Fucking hell. Really? And you didn’t play basketball?”

He rolls his eyes as we both make our way over to his register to close out.

---