Page 36 of Catching Kyle
“The Book Corner?”
“It was that bookstore right next to Jimmy’s diner.”
I raise my brow. That’s the bookstore with the lesbian flag.
“Sure thing,” I say.
“Thank you kindly,” she says as I leave the house.
When I get in the car, I ponder the places I could go. This town has a ton of little touristy businesses that I could browse, but I’m not in a huge mood to be spotted in public. The lake is great, too, but this weather has me thinking that it could rain again at any moment.
I glance over at my backpack. “Shoot,” I say, remembering. I open the small flap and pull out my copy of the Cat Sebastian book that Michael gave me. I said I would read it on the plane, but I conked out. On the cover, there’s some nerdy looking guy with glasses standing next to a baseball player, and their outfits look old. A gay novel based on some time in the past, I gather.
I do need to pick up a book at The Book Corner for ma, and she said they had a little café. Maybe I could sit there and get started on reading this book for book club. I got nothing else to do after all. After what I said to Michael, I doubt he’ll send me more stuff to read. God, I was so stupid. In hindsight, it woulda been less weird to just ask him if he had a boyfriend, not justify why I was asking him.
I sigh. Something tells me that bookstore might be the best place to go if I want to be in public, but discreetly—maybe besides a library. Not really my kinda fans in these places. But the closest library is at Miss U, and I’d surely be recognized there.
So the lesbian bookstore it is.
When I make it to the bookstore, the lesbian flag bats in the wind, almost like it’s drying itself off from the rain. I pull into the gravel lot, and I’m surprised it’s almost full. I manage to take the last open spot. Hopefully, with how busy it is, I still won’t be recognized.
I shove the book inside my backpack, lest someone see that I’m reading a book with gay men on the cover. And then I make my way inside.
The Book Corner has shelves lining the walls, as well as smaller shelves in the middle of the floor. At the center of the shop, there’s a circular counter. Behind it stands a young black woman checking out an older white woman, and there are three people standing behind her. Next to her, there’s a red-headed woman helping her out. To my right, a sturdy, stocky man with a mustache is manning the café. When I glance at him, his eyes widen.
“I’ll be damned,” he says. “Are you…?”
I walk up to the counter, hoping he won’t say it so loud. “It’s me,” I say. “Kyle Weaver.”
He reaches his muscular arm across the counter. I smile and shake it back.
“Your mama’s Linda Higgins, right?” he asks.
I look around. There are some people watching us, but not many. “She is.”
“Sorry to bother, but that woman’s my hero. I wondered when I’d meet her son.”
I smile a little. She had told me about a young man around my age who moved here a few years back. Rough home life, she said about him. But he’s found support here.
“She’s mine too,” I say. “You’re…?”
“Silas,” he says. “Sorry, can I get you something? Didn’t mean to fangirl.”
“All good,” I say. I glance at the food behind the glass. “How bouta blueberry muffin?”
“Sure thing,” he says. “Heated up?”
“Please.”
I stand to the side and wait. The way he talks—he’s Southern for sure, but there’s a lilt there. One only gay men have. It sounds like he wasn’t accepted back home. But my ma accepts him. That means she could accept me if I was like Silas.
“Good to meet you,” he says. “I hope to see you around.”
“Likewise,” I say, taking the muffin. I notice someone get up from the comfiest looking armchair. It faces the window, its back to everyone else. Great place to read and be undisturbed.
I make my way over, set my take off my backpack, and plop down. I dig into the muffin, marveling at the sweet, cinnamon taste. Then, knowing I’ve procrastinated it enough, I take out the book and start reading.
And ho-lee shit.
