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Room after dusty room, endless stacks of books, some probably haven’t been touched in decades. It’s easy to spend the day there, to get lost in those endless stacks, running your fingers over thick leather spines, the golden titles barely legible. Josh and I had only been seeing each other for a few weeks when I took him to the bookstore. We wandered together for a while then went our separate ways, each of us looking for our own leather-bound jewel. The separation was deliberate. All day we had been consciously avoiding physical contact, trying to “get to know each other”.In reality, we had known or at least known of each other since high school. It wasn’t until I’d moved back to our hometown that we had discovered a mutual attraction. From the very first time we’d met up for coffee, the slightest contact between us had ended in a hot, sweaty mess. The backseat of his car, every room in my apartment, more than one public restroom, anywhere and everywhere was fair game. Now I had it. “All right, Charlotte, I’m begging you, what did you and Kathy talk about.”“You,” she said, and started to walk again.“Wait a minute, you can’t just say that and then start walking. What about me?” I complained.“Just you,” she replied, “what a boy you are.”The way she enunciated the word boy told me that what they’d said hadn’t been entirely complimentary.“What do you mean what a boy I am?” I asked.“The way you don’t open your eyes and look at what’s around you,” she replied.“The fact that you’ve got Cal and Kathy and who knows who else absolutely head over heels in love with you, and you don’t even notice.”“What do you mean?” I asked, “Cal I understand. But Kathy’s not in love with me, we’re just going out as friends. So that she can show her dad he can trust her around boys.”“And the boy she wants to be trusted around is?” she asked archly.“Just boys in general,” I said.She shook her head and we carried on walking.“Cal,” I said, “you can’t just say that and walk on. You have to.
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