Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85029 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 425(@200wpm)___ 340(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
“I was here first.” I say this with confidence, even though I did actually see him reaching for it when my hand flew up to the spine. We were both browsing the same aisle of books for several minutes. Stealing glances at each other. Trying to be coy.
“Really?” The handsome stranger laughs this word out as he grins at me. He’s amazingly beautiful. Like supernaturally beautiful. “That’s your opening? ‘I was here first?’”
“What? It’s true. I had my hand on the book and you reached for it.”
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You’re just… gonna lean in to it, aren’t you?”
I blink my eyes at him, feigning innocence. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
We’re both still holding on the book. He nods his head at it. “Do you even know what this book is about?”
I have no idea what the title is, let alone what it’s about. I glance at the spine—Lovers Under a Bridge—then look back at him with confidence. “Of course I know what it’s about.”
He smirks back at me, calling me out as a liar with his eyes, but it’s not a serious call-out. It’s more like a challenge-accepted call-out. “You think it’s about lovers under a bridge, don’t you?”
I shrug one shoulder up. “That’s… part of it. But… it’s got… deep, dark undertones.”
“So you’ve read it?” His eyebrows have shot up to the top of his forehead. Like he’s surprised. But it’s not a real surprise, just a flirty one. We’re playing a little game here. A little game called meet-cute banter.
We’re probably gonna have sex. Maybe he’ll take me back to his place, or maybe I’ll take him back to my place, or maybe we’ll just do it right here in the stacks like sex-addicted exhibitionists. But this is no ordinary chance meeting. It’s… a beginning.
“Dozens of times.”
He scoffs. But it’s still in good-natured territory. “OK.” He has to stop and chuckle here. “What are the main characters’ names?”
I don’t even hesitate. “Esmerelda and Tony.”
He laughs so loud, it echoes off the library ceiling. Then takes a moment to look properly embarrassed while simultaneously peeking down and through the stacks to see if anyone will come chastise him. When he’s sure the coast is clear, he directs those mischievous and twinkling eyes back at me. “Nailed it.” I press my lips together, stifling my own outburst. “But you’re not out of the woods yet. I’m gonna need a plot.”
I tsk my tongue and stare at him in mock open-mouthed shock. “Are you really challenging me to a pop-quiz duel?”
“Is that a thing?”
I shrug. “I’m making it up as I go here.”
“You’re really good at it.”
I curtsey, lifting up the hem of my little summer dress. “Thank you.”
He holds up a finger. “But I’ve got my heart set on this book.”
“So do I.” We’re both still holding the spine. I grip it a little tighter.
“Well, then I think a pop-quiz duel is the proper way to handle it.”
“Challenge accepted.”
His eyes are twinkling even brighter now. Like this is the best conversation he’s had in years. “You seem pretty confident.”
“Why wouldn’t I be? I’ve practically memorized Emily and Toby’s character arcs.”
“Esmerelda and Tony.” He chuckles the words out.
“That’s what I said.”
“Question number one.”
“I’m ready. Let’s do this.”
“Where do the lovers meet?”
“Duh. Under the frickin’ bridge.”
“You’re really gonna do this?” He’s got that one eyebrow lifted up again.
“The quiz? Fuck, yeah, I am.”
“It’s not about a bridge. It’s a metaphor.”
“Oh. My God. That’s what I just said.”
“They’re not even lovers. They’re frenemies.”
“I hate that word.”
“Why?”
“It’s so overused.”
“Frenemies?” He laughs loudly again. And this time someone is close enough—though hidden in some other stack—to chastise him with a shush. He lowers his voice and leans in to me, whispering. “Where do you hail from where the word ‘frenemies’ is overused?”
“Where do I hail from?” Now it’s my turn to laugh out loud. “What are you, some kind of out-of-time, old-fashioned bibliophile?”
He points at me with the hand not holding on to the spine of Lovers Under a Bridge. “Yes.”
I put up my free hand in a full-motion stop. “No.”
“No? You’re just gonna say no? Like… I’m lying?”
“Well, here’s the thing…”
He fills in the blank I just dropped. “Ryet.”
“Here’s the thing, Ryet. It’s fine if you’re an old-fashioned bibliophile. But you can’t be an out-of-time one.”
“Why not?”
I shrug up my shoulders. “Because time travel is fake.”
He nods his head to the book. “Tell that to Esme and Tyler.”
“You mean Elsa and Todd?”
“That’s what I said.”
Now we both laugh. And then we both let go of the stupid book. He backs up, leaning against the stack across the aisle, crossing his arms as he smirks at me with those amazing twinkling eyes.
I do the same, but on my side of the aisle. “Are we gonna have sex, Ryet?”
He nods his head. It’s a slow nod. Giving him enough time to say paragraphs of words with just a look. “It’s happening…”