Page 37 of The Tattered Gloves
My stomach lurched as I pushed my way through the heavy old door that led into Page Turners. The familiar smell of parchment and binding adhesive felt oddly comforting. As much as I’d hated the idea of this bookstore in the beginning, it had sort of become my favorite place. I loved running my fingers across the books as I roamed the shelves, back and forth, like a maze, while I searched for new books to read. I’d probably spent half of what I’d earned on reading material, but I honestly didn’t care.
Finally, I had something to call my own.
My love for reading had happened by accident really.Don’t Let Go. That stupid title I couldn’t forget. I didn’t know how many times I’d walked by that particular book on its lonely shelf before finally picking it back up. I’d thumb through the first few pages and then stuff it back on the shelf, only to find myself right back in front of it, wondering what happened next.
It was the first.
But definitely not the last.
Every time I put a new book on the tiny shelf in my room, it would bring a little smile to my face. They weren’t worn or secondhand or something my mom suddenly had no use for anymore.
They were precious.
They were mine.
I inwardly snorted to myself, thinking I sounded like that weird little creature fromThe Lord of the Ringswhen I thought about my books, but it was true. I couldn’t care less about clothes, makeup, or a single inch of my room, except for that shelf.
“You gonna stand there all day, or are you actually going to work?” Sam’s gruff voice said, startling me.
I nearly jumped, turning toward him, as he approached from the back room. “Sorry, just a little spacey.”
“Is that hereditary? Should I put that in my report?” he said as he breezed past me.
The words were said in jest, but I could tell he was still hurt by what he’d overheard.
“I’m sorry I tried to switch. It’s not what you think,” I said, hoping he’d actually stop and pay attention to me for a split second.
He did — barely. He’d just stepped behind the counter, and as soon as my words had left my mouth, he spun around, fire and ire in his eyes.
“It’s not?” he nearly spit. “So, you didn’t mean to ask our teacher for a new partner?”
I bit my bottom lip. “No, I did.”
“So, it is exactly what I think then.”
I tried to think of a way to explain it.
How did you tell a guy that being around him made you kind of crazy and flustered and… well, that feelings like that aren’t allowed because of certain past relations with your best friend?
No, I definitely could not tell him that.
“Look, I thought we were finally starting to see eye to eye, Mittens. But obviously that’s not the case. We have a project to do, and somehow, we’ll figure it out. But, for now, let’s just stick to work. Things can just go back to the way they used to be, okay?”
I was Mittens again. Not Willow. Just Mittens.
I nodded, feeling dejected and dismissed.
He’d effectively solved my dilemma. I no longer had to worry over the conflicting feelings I was having for a boy who was off limits.
There would be no after-school talk. No sly jokes or out-of-the-blue compliments. He was done with me, and we could go back to being coworkers.
Like normal.
The problem though?
I didn’t want to be normal anymore.
MEET ME @the bookstore round 3 tmrw to work on r project.
