Page 48 of To Love or to Lose
We’re the complete trifecta of optimist, realist, and pessimist.
Yet, there’s a bit of love in each of us, which is likely what makes us fit so well together. Winnie’s the idealist lover, Eloise is the sensible lover, and I’m the platonic lover.
I think I love my friends platonically more than I could ever love a man romantically.
“Do you want something to drink, honey? Water, coffee, tea?”
“Coffee would be great.” Mrs. Stephens knows me so well.
She sets the mug down next to me, careful to avoid the stacks of papers I have laid out, and right when I absorb the peaceful ambiance of the store, the bell above the door chimes.
That’s odd. Usually, I am the only person who ever comes in here this late.
I look up from my laptop, and who I see should surprise me, but somehow it doesn’t. I have been learning to live with his constant bouts of annoyance.
Jameson Beaumont strolls through the door, as if he comes tomybookstore regularly.
Just great.
I can only hope he’s just in here to get a coffee and leave, but then I see him wander through the few shelves that are on the first floor, and I realize he isn’t just stopping by.
When he looks up and makes eye contact with me, his face forms a shocked expression. I glare. This ismyspot; he shouldn’t be surprised that I’m here.
I’m assuming he got dropped off here, considering he wouldn’t have walked in the rain, and he can’t drive in the states.
“Genevieve.” He nods in greeting.
I say nothing, trying instead to focus back on my work. My laptop screen has suddenly become much less interesting, to my distaste. I cannot deal with a distraction right now. Time is running out on these college applications, and I am stressing over not having them done.
Having him here will only delay the process.
I look back to see Jameson walking leisurely around the first level of the store. Occasionally, he picks up a book that interests him. Most of which I’ve already read, which angers me more.We have the same taste in books, what a travesty.
If he were anybody else, I would think about possibly offering similar recommendations, but I refuse to publicly acknowledge that Jameson and I have the same book taste.
Eventually, I hear him come up the steps to the second level, where I am sitting. “What are you working on?” He asks.
I don’t bother looking up at him. I don’t want him to think I am inviting him to have a conversation with me. “My Valedictorian speech.”Please leave me alone.
“What?” He takes another step toward my table, sounding slightly threatened.
“I’m kidding,” I say in a bored tone. “I’m doing college applications. Now if you don’t mind, I would like to be alone.”
“What college?”
I almost shut my laptop, but that would make it seem like Iwantto talk to him. “None of your business.”
“Geez, someone’s aggressive tonight.” He holds up his hands in mock surrender.
“And you’re rude.” I try to go back to typing, but the chair my feet are resting on is pulled out from under me.
Jameson sits in the stolen seat.
“Do you know how to take any social cues?” I ask him, not hiding my annoyance. “I’ve been silently, yet obviously, begging you to leave since the moment you walked in here, and now I’m worried you’re becoming obsessed with me.”
“I don’t think you really want me to leave.” He shrugs. “As for the obsession, I think the only obsession between the two of us is the one you have with my imaginary death you’ve been concocting in your head.”
“No, I want you to leave. Your arrogance is cushioning the impact of my dismissal toward you, which is only proven more because you believe I am spending my valuable time thinkinganythingabout you.”
