Page 31 of Bookworm
Honestly, I’d barely eaten all day. I’d been such a nervous wreck.
I groaned. “It’s Cuppa Noodles for me tonight,” I said. I hadn’t gone grocery shopping yet since arriving in the States.
Literally the only thing in that apartment was the cat food I asked Addy to bring to dinner for Jules, and a couple of old ramen cups that had probably been in those cupboards for literal years.
“Um, you say that like it’s a bad thing,” Adam said. “Cuppa Noodles, especially the Sweet Chili Lime flavor, are the freaking best.”
My face pulled into a grimace. “If you say so.”
“Oh, I do. Just steer clear of the pumpkin spice. It tastes like a pumpkin and cinnamon stick had a baby that vomited in your mouth.”
“Ohhhhh,” my empty stomach turned, eliciting a growl. “Please stop,” I laughed.
I knew that those ramen cups were staples for most American university students, but in England, I basically survived on Hobnobs, Crawford’s Custard Cremes, and Super Noodles—which, for the record—are so much better than the US Ramen packets or Cuppa Noodles.
“Seriously, though. There’s a trick to making Cuppa Noodles delicious.”
“I guess I’ll have to take your word for it…”
“You think so?”
There was another long pause, until he took my hand and turned it over to the welt where I’d just burned my finger. Bending, he pressed a gentle kiss to it.
“Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
My eyes slid to the drying books, suddenly worried that I hadn’t done a good enough job on them. Would a discerning eye be able to see that hairline crease that was almost invisible? If they came in and opened the book, would they smell the glue?
“It’s going to be fine,” Adam said. “Literally, I cannot imagine anyone as psychotic as you and me, coming in here to inspect the books at two in the morning.”
His reassuring words and sweet smile did help calm my nerves. A little.
“Okay,” I conceded onlyafterI confirmed that the books were okay to close up. Then I slid them back into their place on the bookshelf. For the first time in over twelve hours, I sighed, tension releasing from my shoulders.
“Jules really does probably need me. New house, new country, after a long ass plane ride in a little carrier. Poor thing.”
I packed up my bag, taking what I’d need with me to potentially work onPride and Prejudiceback at the apartment in the morning and left the rest of it in a neatly organized pile.
“I meant to ask you before we got, uh, distracted back at your apartment. The name Jules… did that come from where I think it came from?”
A blush warmed my cheeks and I ducked my gaze into my messenger bag to hide it as Adam shut the door behind us, double checking that it was locked.
“Well, he is one of my top five favorite authors,” I admitted as we made our way toward the front door. Each footstep echoed in the otherwise empty, cavernous library.
Adam bumped his elbow against mine. “Cause of me, right? When I loaned you20,000 Leagues Under the Sea.”
I rolled my eyes despite the fact that he was right. Adam was the catalyst, the reason that my love of Jules Verne began. “That may have been what started my love affair, yes.”
Adam’s snort, though not anywhere near loud, boomed through the otherwise silent library. “I would hope so,” he said. “It’s arguably the absolute best book he ever wrote.”
It was my turn to snort. “It was a great read, admittedly,” I said. “But the best book? Um, no. Not even close.”
Adam’s steps halted. “You’re not serious. Tell me you aren’t serious, Harper.”
I stopped walking, merely steps away from the front door of the library and lifted my eyebrows at him. “Okay. I’m not serious.”
Mouth gaping, Adam shook his head. “But youareserious.”
I shrugged. “Don’t get me wrong.20,000 Leagues Under the Seais a great book. But without question, his best book wasThe Lighthouse at the End of the World.”
