Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56005 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
“Hi,” I whisper when he moves closer toward us.
“Hey,” he whispers back, looking right at me.
And honestly the whole world melts away as our eyes stay connected. Like we’re having our very own private conversation that nobody else is invited to. His smile is contagious and he has me smiling like a goon.
Arlene clears her throat. “Is everything set up?”
The spell breaks, and I turn to look at her. “Absolutely,” I say, moving to the back of the store.
Nelly and Helena are next to arrive and as they enter the store they’re bickering is loud and boisterous.
After another twenty minutes the meeting gets underway, and it’s another long hour of sitting through the meeting trying not to think about the man sitting next to me. After the book club is over, and the ladies leave, Tripp lingers.
And it makes me smile. It’s dark, and the moon casts a soft glow around the bookshop. It feels almost romantic. But I try to remember who I’m here with.
“What’s your favorite book?” he asks me as he runs his finger over the top of a book on display.
So far I’m loving what he’s written, but smile. “I love The Maze Runner Series. My mother and I would read them together.”
He gives me a thoughtful smile. “I enjoyed those books.” He moves toward another display of board games. “What’s your favorite board game?”
I stall, blinking rapidly. “No,” I whisper, silently.
“What?” he asks, moving closer toward me. “What did you say?”
I shake my head, casting away the broken memories. “I don’t play board games. I don’t like them.”
He twists his head, studying me with an arched brow and a boyish expression. “How can you not like board games?”
I shrug. “Just don’t.” I don’t want to tell him the real reason.
“Are you afraid you’re going to get Jumanji’d?”
I giggle slightly. “Juman-what?”
“Jumanji? The movie? Are you afraid the board game will come to life? Or you’ll get sucked into the jungle?”
I laugh again. “Um no. Who would be afraid of that?”
He shrugs, looking really cute and casual. “Some people get crazy fears from movies. How many times have you walked into a bathroom and had to look behind the shower curtain?”
“Fair point, and no,” I smile. “I’m not afraid of being Jumanji’d.”
He takes a seat in a leather chair, and I sit down in the seat next to him. “So, what is it then? Nobody to play them with?”
I gaze into his eyes, wondering if he can read me so well. I’m not lonely, but I’m definitely alone. I’m all I’ve got left in this world, and I wonder how much of that Tripp can see. “My mother used to love to play board games. She died of cancer when I turned eighteen.”
“I’m so sorry, Millie.”
I swipe a tear away from my cheek. “It’s fine.”
Tripp hasn’t stopped staring at me since we’ve sat down, and having his attention right now, when I’m at my most vulnerable, is unnerving, but also sort of terrific too. I don’t know how to feel about it.
I lower my head, studying my hands in my lap.
“It isn’t fine, Millie. It’s never fine, and that’s okay.”
I turn to look him square in the eyes. “You’re not like what I thought you were.”
“And what’s that?”
“You were always joking around. Kind of loud and, I hate to say this, annoying.” I giggle.
“Ouch,” he says, placing a hand over his heart as if I wounded him. “No, you’re right, I guess. I feel like in a family with so many older siblings, nobody ever really noticed me. So, I’d make people laugh. I’d make jokes to get their attention.”
“That’s understandable.”
“But I feel like nobody knows the real me.”
I lean closer, as if a magnet is drawing us closer. “And what is the real you?”
“It’s the writer. The one who feels when he writes.”
I suck in a breath, wanting desperately to ask him about the woman he writes about, but before I can the fire alarm goes off. I bound from my chair, rushing to the back of the shop, looking for the fire.
In a bookshop it’s crucial to stop a fire early before it burns through all your inventory.
“I think I found the issue,” Tripp says, blowing out a candle by the window. “I think it tripped the alarm.”
“I’m so happy you were here,” I say.
He rubs at the back of his neck, his dark hair spilling slightly into his eyes. “Had I not been here you would have blown out this candle long ago, and probably already been home by now.” He steps further away.
“Thank you,” I say. “Also, I had an idea about your chapters.”
He steps closer. “Oh really? I’d love any advice you can give me.”
“I think if you change the order of the chapters, put chapter one as chapter two, and vice versa it’ll really draw out the suspense of it all.”