Page 8 of The Summer of Everything

Book Attic has been around almost as along as Once Upon a Page. Their staff was very competitive. Wes believes the store had decent foot traffic, though not as great as his bookstore, which is located near the pier. People constantly stop in at Once Upon a Page for a good beach read.

“What’s the big deal?”

“Book Attic isclosed,” she repeats. “They shut down that Barnes and Noble near Third Street Promenade months ago.”

“I thought they relocated?”

“To where? Mars?” Ella’s boot taps loudly on the hardwood floor. “Are you picking up the clues, Sherlock?”

Wespfftsat her. “That those stores had poor customer service and lowkey bad realty selections?”

“Maybe…”

“Not going there, Ella.” Wes’s neck is tight, but he still manages to shake his head. “Once Upon a Page is an institution. Nothing bad’s happening here. Those two bookstores closing, out of the ten around us plus the twenty in downtown L.A., are just wild coincidences.”

“Hella wild coincidences, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t think,” Wes says with a lightheartedness he hopes she accepts.

The corners of her mouth quirk. “Not very well, at least.”

“That’s what my SAT scores say.”

Ella doesn’t mention anything else about the bookstore. She tugs her phone out of her jacket. She has a My Chemical Romance phone case. Wes is aggressively disappointed by her choices. “I better go before this guy thinks he’s unworthy of my time,” she says.

“If he can’t lift Mjölnir, then he’s unworthy of your glory.”

“That’s some kind of nerd, DC joke, right?”

Correction: Wes is aggressively disappointed by Ella’s comic book knowledge.

“Whatever.” Ella waves. “Don’t wait up for me!”

“Do I ever?”

“Good boy.”

“Use protection!” he shouts, but the door’s already slamming shut. Fine. Wes isn’t Ella’s guardian anyway.

Wes spends ten minutes on his phone, updating his social media accounts with photos and videos from Italy. He scrolls through a few hilarious Reddit posts and watches random YouTube videos of talking cats and epic fails. But he can’t escape how quiet the loft is.

Why can’t Wes be more like Ella when it comes to life and dating and, well, sex? Ella’s ridiculously confident about that topic. She’s all, “No biggie. Sex is just sex. It’s not a defining moment in your life.”

It’s not that Wes is ashamed of his inexperience. He’s always had this idea in his head: Wes wants his first time to be with someone he can imagine being with for more than a month or a week orthat moment. He wants his first to be someone he can share his comics with, someone who’s cool with his geekiness, someone who won’t pressure him because, honestly, Wes isn’t sure he’s ready for sex. But when he is, he wants that person to be cool if he’s nervous or if he can’t figure all of it out.

High school was this epic buildup to a deadline. By the time he turned eighteen, Wes was supposed to know what college he was going to, see what his future would look like, and no longer be a virgin. And here he is, unable to figure out any of those things or even what to do on a Sunday night in the heart of summer, which, of course, is why someone knocks at the door.

Wes groans, rolling off his bed. Ella’s undoubtedly forgot her keys or wallet or phone charger.

The knocking grows louder.

“Seriously, I’m not in the mood if you’re about to tell me this Long Beach dude is bringing friends and you need a wingman,” he shouts as he pads over the hardwood floor toward the door. “Ella, I’m not that guy. I have zero game.”

When he pulls open the door, it’s not Ella awaiting him.

It’s Nico.

Chapter Three

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