Page 12 of Bookish Boys Don't Date Social Girls
“Sure.” He shifts his weight like he’s about to turn, but then stops. “What kind of historicals does she like?”
“Kind?” I stammer. “There are different kinds?”
Panic floods me. I have absolutely no clue. And suddenly I feel like my sham is so obvious. He’s going to know I’m only here to see him. But don’t the boys I visit always know it is specifically to see them? Why am I suddenly self-conscious about it? Why does this boy matter so much? He flicks his head to get his long bangs out of his eyes, and even that simple motion sets a kaleidoscope of butterflies loose in my belly. Ican’t help the responding smile that curves my lips, but it falls away when his eyebrow arches in response.
“Historical fiction? Historical romance? Historical nonfiction? Do you by chance know any of the titles of books she’s read?”
I sigh and shake my head. “She’s only ever referred to them as historicals.”
“You could get her a gift card.” He points to a rack next to the register with a selection of plastic cards to choose from.
I consider it. This is all a farce anyway. I’m only buying Ava a book for an excuse to be here. But now that I’m here, I want to get her a real book, dang it. “That’s pretty impersonal. I’d rather not. Shoot. Maybe this won’t work after all.”
Brent spins on his heel and comes out from behind the counter. “Not necessarily. Let’s go look at some of the books and maybe you’ll recognize the genre based on the covers. I’m assuming you’ve seen some of her books at least.”
I nod and follow him to the stairs, happy to watch him climb to the second floor ahead of me. His jungle cat grace makes me gulp. My fingers tingle to touch him and see if his lean muscles are as taut as they seem.
“Just from knowing Ava, I’m guessing she will like fiction or romance over nonfiction. Would you agree?” When he looks over his shoulder and finds my mouth hanging open, he clarifies further. “Do you think she’s reading about World War II or the Great Potato Famine or a real event like that?”
“Oh, no. That all sounds way more depressing than she’d want to read.”
“Right. So, our historical fiction books are over here.” He points to a section of books in the corner. I see there is a very helpful sign immediately above the bookshelf that says HISTORICAL. I scan the wall to see signs identifying other fictional categories,MYSTERY, WESTERN, YOUNG ADULT. “Do these covers look anything like the books you’ve seen Ava carrying around?”
I scan the books on the shelf and bite my lip. I have no idea.
“Or,” Brent walks across the room, the floor boards of the old building squeaking under his weight. “Our romance section is over here. Everything else is alphabetical, but we have romance separate because it’s one of the most popular genres for our clientele.”
The romance section takes up the entire wall. I see covers with bare male chests, covers with quaint country houses, covers with beautiful young couples, and I’m immediately overwhelmed. Am I supposed to recognize her books from within this huge selection?
Brent steps to the left and points to a label on the edge of the shelf that reads SMALL TOWN. “The books are shelved by sub-genre. Here are the historical romance books.” He shifts down the wall a bit. “Do these covers look more familiar?”
I feel better when I see that most of the women on these covers look like they belong in the show Bridgerton. “No, that is most definitely not what she’s been reading.” I wander back to the first section he showed me and study all the covers. I shake my head. “These are all so different from one another. It’s so hard to say.”
“There is a lot of history to read about, that’s for certain.” Brent crosses his arms and taps his mouth with a finger. He looks so cute, I’m not about to interrupt him. He squints to the corner of the room and nods. “You know what?”
I follow him to the section of books labeled YOUNG ADULT.
“If I were a betting man,” he says, picking up a book from the shelf and handing it to me. “I would guess that Ava would like this book. It’s a pretty new release, so the chance of herhaving read it already is slim. It’s historical fiction set in 1989 Romania. About a spy network that helped topple a dictatorship. I’ve read it and loved it, and even if it isn’t what Ava reads regularly, I think she’ll enjoy it. If she’s absolutely not interested in reading this book, she can come exchange it for another book.”
I look at the cover of the book, which holds absolutely no interest for me. I flip it over and skim the back jacket but can’t even keep my attention on it long enough to finish three sentences. “You’ve read this?”
“I’ve read all the books by this author. She’s excellent.”
There is a hunger in his expression that entices me. Like he can’t wait to devour the next book this author releases. I wonder how I can get him to look at me that way. “And she can exchange it if I’ve gotten it all wrong?”
“Yes, or if she’s already read it. I’ll include a gift receipt to make it easy for her.”
I smile down at the book, knowing as soon as Ava sees the book receipt, she’ll know what I’ve been up to. I nod. “I’ll take it.”
“Great. Do you have more browsing to do? Or would you like to hang out and have a coffee?”
My heart skips a beat when I think about sitting at the coffee bar and visiting with Brent for a while. But just as I think it, I see him raise a finger to another customer. “No, I think this will be enough for me. I saw that you had some cool bookmarks downstairs. I’ll go browse those while you help that person.”
Brent smiles. “Callie will probably be able to help you downstairs.”
“Oh,” I try not to let my disappointment show. I didn’t realize there was anyone else working in the store. “Um, thanks for your help then.”
He smiles politely. “I hope Ava likes the book.”
