Page 4 of My Book Boyfriend
“Mr. Devi, do you have a book to check out, or are you just here to meddle with my love life?” I ask.
“I do have a book to check out, but as you said, a little matchmaking never hurt anyone. It’s just a date.”
I did say that when I set up Mr. Devi with Mrs. Potter. That wasnota successful match. But they are my two favorite septuagenarians, so it was worth a try. And I think Mr. Devi is lonely because he spends so many afternoons and evenings here. But he says that his Prasanthi was the only one for him. True love is real—and not just between the pages of books.
“But since we don’t know him, you should only meet him in a public place.”
Great. Mr. Rupert Evans isnevergoing to return to the public library again.
The heavy, wooden door clangs shut, and Rupert’s footsteps recede. I shake myself.Whatever.I’ll never see him again. I scan Mr. Devi’s book and hand it back to him with the due date slip. My phone beeps.
Tessa:Running late.
I sweep underneath the counter and in the area behind the checkout counter. Turning off the computers and the lights in the back is my good night ritual for a slumbering library. Bella and Mr. Devi wait by the doors.
I do one quick walk-around through the stacks to make sure all the books have been put away. No books lay scattered on the circular, birch tables with their matching chairs in the reading section at the front. I straighten the bright covers of the books we’re highlighting this month that stand on top of the short bookcases next to the red-and-white signs announcing that we have books in Chinese, Japanese, and Spanish. It’s ready for another day of neighborhood learning tomorrow.
I lock the doors as I let myself out with Bella and Mr. Devi. We walk down the short set of steps and say our goodbyes. The St. Agnes library is a beautiful limestone building with arched windows built in 1920. The rest of the block is buzzing with small stores and restaurants. Mr. Devi walks south.
And then I turn around, and there is Rupert. His coat is buttoned up to his neck, and he’s giving undercover spy vibes—or maybe bookish, literary genius. Either works for me. I should’ve done something with my hair. And my oversize red parka, while great for the winter, is definitely not the most flattering for my figure.
He walks up to us. “I feel bad for taking your copy.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “Honestly. My #TBR pile is huge. I can always read something else.”
He nods. “Okay, then.” Then he glances south. Mr. Devi is slowly making his way down the street. A truck rattles and roars its way up Amsterdam Avenue.
Bella hits me hard with her elbow, and I look at her. She raises her eyebrows and then gestures at Rupert with her chin. I shake my head and raise my eyebrows back at her. I have no idea what she’s trying to tell me.
Rupert turns back to face us, the book in his hand, looking unsure. I feel bad thathefeels bad about taking the last copy.
“But here’s a quiz to see if you’re worthy,” I say. “Why did Ms. Wilhelmina Chrissy start writing?”
“She watched a mystery on TV and thought she could do better.”
“What are the main themes of her mysteries?” I ask.
“Found family and the cracks in relationships.”
I nod, impressed. The streetlight is blinking to life, as if it’s going to whisper a better question. “And what attracts you to her writing?”
“The characters, the themes, and I usually can’t figure out who did it. Did I pass?” He steps closer.
I step back. “Yes. Enjoy the book.” There. That should get rid of any guilt.
“Lily will be leading a book club onHe Had No Ideaat Banter & Books on Friday,” Bella says.
“Then you need the book,” Rupert says.
“It’s okay. Banter & Books said they’ll have additional stock tomorrow.” I turn to head north, and Bella hooks her arm in mine. The dusk makes the green traffic lights pop out. A bus sighs across the street and pulls away from the curb. Bella’s arm is warm against mine, and I butt shoulders with her affectionately.
As we near the corner, Bella says, “You should have asked him out. He just stood there, waiting for you.”
I snort. “Then he can ask me out. I don’t need another Aiden, where I do all the pursuing.”
Not that I’ve given up on Aiden. He seemed enthusiastic about going to the gala again. He said yes immediately. And he just bought me cat grass. That’s sort of romantic—in its own way.
But this guy looks like he can ask a woman out if he wants to.
