Page 93 of I Heart Mason Cartwright
Mason
“Willow?”I can’t believe my eyes. Of all the bookstores in all of Seattle.
Holy shit.
“Mason! Uh, hey.” She catches my eye fleetingly then looks down and shuffles her feet slightly.
“Wow. What are you doing here?”
“I, uh, I’m looking for a copy ofStrangers on a Train.”
No fucking way.
“That’s the book I was looking for,” I say. “I think I got the last copy.” I hold up the book so she can see it. It’s one of my favorites. I can’t believe she was looking for the same one. I didn’t think she was much of a reader. Which was disappointing in a way. But apparently she’s picked up the habit in recent months. And she’s going for the same one that I love. What are the chances?
“Oh no.” She looks disappointed.
“You can have mine.” I hand her the book. She takes it, her hand shaking slightly. “That’s crazy that we were going for the same book. It’s one of my favorites. My mom and I were just talking about it. I’ve read it quite a few times, so take it, please. It’s worth the read, you won’t regret it.”
“Oh, it’s not for me,” she says.
My stomach falls. I want to ask who it’s for, but I can’t. It’s none of my business.
“Oh,” I say.
“Yeah, Zach wanted a copy. Apparently, he’s become quite the fan of Noir since you two discussed it.”
Great, Zach is my book soul mate.
“That’s great. I’m glad he’s enjoying it.”
We look at each other, then both look away.
This is the definition of awkward at its finest.
I take my cap off and run my hands through my hair. “So, how have you been?”
“Me? Good. I’ve been good. You?”
“Oh, yeah, good as well. I just got back from a big job in Santa Barbara, helping a buddy with a huge estate in Montecito. Hey, how’s the house?”
“Ohmigod! It’s so amazing. It’s almost finished. I just ordered kitchen cabinets and picked out countertops this morning. That was the last thing outside of landscaping. I’m going to need a lot of flowers and plants, I think.”
“That sounds awesome! I can’t believe you’ve practically finished it. What an accomplishment. How does it feel?”
“It feels good. Surreal, but good. I’ve put so much time and energy into it for so long, for it to be almost finished, I’m not sure what I’m going to do with my time.”
“I know what you mean,” I say. “I thought that by the time I was done with this job with my buddy, I would have my next gig all set up. But I don’t. So now I’m kind of flailing on what to do next.”
“Well, you could always help me plant flowers.” She laughs but it sounds unnatural.
I pounce on it anyway. “Really? I’d be happy to.”
“Oh. Um. Yeah, definitely. Do you know much about annuals and perennials?”
“Not a thing.”
She laughs again. This one sounding genuine. Like music to my pathetic starving ears. “Good thing I have a book.”
