TREMBLE

Chapter 3

The hottest day of my life was the day I almost spoke to Grace. Even in the air-conditioned bookstore, waves of heat swept in around the door and in through the large picture windows. I slouched on my seat behind the bar and drank the summer air as if I could contain every drop of it.

As the hours passed, the afternoon sun bleached every book on the shelves into pale, gold-plated replicas of themselves and warmed the paper and ink within the covers so that the aroma of unread words permeated the room.

When I was a human, I enjoyed this.

When the door opened with a little ding and a suffocating surge of hot air and a group of females entered, I was reading. I continued reading as they jostled around the walls and spoke about things other than books since they were laughing too loudly to need my assistance.

Without seeing one of the girls brush her dark blonde hair up and twist it into a long ponytail at the outside of my field of view, I don't think I would have given the females a second consideration. Although the activity was little, it nonetheless released a smell into the air. I knew what that fragrance was. I was aware right away.

She was there. It was necessary.

I yanked my book up to my face and took a chance on catching a look at the girls' faces. The two other people were still conversing and making gestures toward a paper bird that I had hung from the ceiling over the children's reading area. However, she remained silent and kept her gaze fixed on the books all around her. When I first saw her face, I noticed a part of myself in her expression. Her gaze darted across the shelves looking for a way out.

The scene had been prepared in a thousand various ways in my imagination, but when the time had come, I was at a loss for what to do.

She came out as really genuine. When she was in her backyard alone, reading a book or jotting down schoolwork, everything was different. There, the space between us was an impassable chasm, and I felt every reason to withdraw myself. She appeared stunningly near to me here, in the bookshop, in a way she hadn't previously. Nothing prevented me from speaking with her.

I quickly averted my eyes from my book and away from her when she turned to look at me. She wouldn't be able to tell my face from me, but she would know my eyes. She would surely recognize my gaze, I had to believe.

I prayed that she would go so that I could get some air.

I hoped she would purchase a book so I would have to speak with her.

Grace, come over here and have a look at this, yelled one of the females. Making the Grade: Enrollment in the College of Your Dreams—that sounds promising, right?

I took a deep breath in and stared at her long, sunny back as she knelt with the other females to study the SAT prep books. She nodded as they pointed to other volumes, but she appeared preoccupied; there was a particular tilt to her shoulders that seemed to imply just polite curiosity. I saw how the sunshine filtered through the windows, capturing each stray hair in her ponytail and transforming it into a glittering strand of gold.

She was almost completely unaware of how her head was moving back and forth in time with the music being played overhead.

“Hey.”

I recoiled when a face emerged in front of me. No, Grace. One of the other girls had black hair and a tan complexion. She was staring directly into my eyes and was carrying a large camera. She remained silent, but I understood what she was considering. My eye color drew everything from sideways looks to outright gazing; at least she was upfront about it.

She said, "Do you mind if I snap your picture?

I looked around for a defense. Some natives believe that by taking their picture, you are also taking their soul. Sorry, no images, but it seems like a fairly reasonable argument to me. I apologized and shrugged. You are welcome to take pictures of the shop.

The third girl, who was pressed up against the camera girl, had bushy light brown hair, and a ton of freckles, and exuded so much vitality that she made me feel worn out.

Is Olivia flirting? There isn't time for that. Man, let's take this one, here.

I quickly looked around for Grace before grabbing Making the Grade from her.

"Nineteen dollars and ninety-nine cents," I said.

My pulse was racing.

The freckled girl said, "For a paperback?" but instead handed me twenty dollars.

You should "keep the penny." I set it down on the counter next to the register even though we lacked a penny jar. Grace could stop by to check what was taking so long, so I bagged the book and receipt gently.

But she remained in the biography area, reading the book spines with her head tilted to the side. The girl with freckles took the bag and grinned at Olivia and me. They dragged Grace out to the door after that.

Grace, turn around. I'm standing right here, so look at me. She would need to be familiar with me if she turned straight away and saw my gaze. When the freckled girl opened the door, a ping signaled to the rest of the herd that it was time to go on. After a brief spin, Olivia's gaze returned to me behind the counter. I was aware that I was gazing at them—specifically, Grace—but I couldn't stop.

Olivia scowled before slipping out of the shop. Grace, come on, urged the freckled girl.

My body was speaking a language that my mind couldn't fully grasp, and my chest hurt.

I hung on.