Stubborn

The bookstore. The only place I could really say I was at peace. Something about the familiar smell of paper and coffee or the ambiance of surrounding knowledge had me coming back for more. At times, I felt like I belonged in one of Charles Dickens’ stories which I just couldn’t seem to get enough of. Somewhere, in those pages of metaphors and deeper meanings, I belonged more than I did in the present, amongst iPads and Kindles. Maybe I was just a fantasist at heart.

Casey waved at me from behind the front counter and I waved back. He was one of the first people I’d met in Pittsburgh and I could never mistake that swooping hair. His primary role in my life was picking out the types of books he thinks I’d like. Every day there was usually a pile stored at the far end of the counter with a sticky note reading ‘reserved’. Casey didn’t know it, but he was aiding in my literary addiction. I walked towards him, past the big, comfy mahogany chairs I had grown to accustomed too, and leaned my body against the counter. A new year of school had started and where was the first place I went? The little book shop on the corner of 27th and Carson Street.

“That Amy Hempel book you were looking for finally came in.” Casey flashed a smile and cocked his head swiftly, making his dark hair fly to the side. He brought over the pile of books he had reserved and placed them in front of me.

I picked up the first one and flipped through the pages, feeling the stiffness of an unopened book – one of the greatest feelings in the world. “You’re an angel,” I said and Casey smiled and shrugged. He was too good to me at times, which was weird considering I didn’t know him all that well and I hadn’t done anything for him.

“I could only save a few, but I just finished stocking some more,” he said as I shoved the books into my messenger bag and brought out money to pay him. I followed his hand as he pointed at a stack near the far back of the store.

With a small wave and smile I thanked him and continued on my pursuit for more books. They were kind of like a drug; never being able to get enough. My fingers danced off the ends of book spines as I roamed through author names. People say you should never judge a book by its cover, but what fun would that be? Most of the greatest things in life happen from mistakes or coincidences – a flaw in Fate’s overall pattern for us. The soft sound of whistling broke through my thoughts as I read the back of a book. Looking up, through the small slit of the bookshelf, I noticed a familiar pair of blue eyes, idly scanning through books. My eyes narrowed. This was my haven and I wasn’t prepared to share it with anyone.

I stuffed the book back onto the shelf haphazardly and rounded the corner of the aisle until I reached the perpetrator of my haven. He looked exactly the same; his hair short and light (especially under the bright lights of the store), his stance tall and casual, and his eyes indifferent.

“You,” I hissed. Immediately, Mr. Hockey’s eyes diverted from the book propped open in his hands to me in all of my hostility.

He smirked. “You wouldn’t believe how many times I’ve heard a woman say that to me in that exact same tone.” He snapped the book shut, placed it on the shelf, and picked up another one. Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he gently bit on the tip of his thumb as his eyes ran over the words.

I huffed, somewhat lost for words. “I didn’t think you could read.” That was the best remark I could come up with? I was definitely losing my snarky edge.

“Ha! Funny,” he said sarcastically, his eyes now on me. “I didn’t think you could be such a comedian.” I shrugged and moved to the shelf directly behind him. There was no use wasting my book time. Nor was it any use wasting my time on him, Mr. Hockey. You could say people annoyed me, only because this generation’s idea of humour and vocabulary sickened me. But, there was something more about this blonde-haired hockey player that got under my skin. Maybe it was because I had met him at work and the only people I met at work were self-involved billionaires. Or maybe it was because guys who couldn’t accept a girl’s independence were exactly the kind of guys I steered clear of.

I could feel his presence behind me, but didn’t make a motion to turn around and look at him. No matter how blue and innocent his eyes appeared, I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at him. Then, his long arm reached over my head to put the book back on the shelf and I knew that one step back and I would hit right into his chest. I waited until he dropped his arm then continued looking through books silently, though his presence was still bothering me. Why did he have to be here? At this bookstore? I took this time to escape from reality, not be brought back to it by people who angered me right from the get go.

“I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” he said in soft tone from behind me.

I, still facing the book shelf, cocked an eyebrow. “That’s a little creepy,” I replied as I pulled a book from the shelf and mindlessly flipped through the pages. I was more feeling its weight in my hand than wondering if it would be an enjoyable read.

I heard the snap of a book behind me. “I meant; I haven’t been able to stop thinking about what you said.” I turned around to see him leaning his shoulder against the shelf with one leg propped up behind the other. “You’re a little self-involved, you know?”

My nostrils flared; mostly at his casual stance. “Me? I’m not – that’s so – how could you? –” I heard him chuckle softly whilst putting the book back on the shelf. That only added to my anger. How had he managed to reverse the roles here? I wasn’t the self-involved one, he was.

“Not so much of a wordsmith now, are you?” He smirked again, revealing his teeth and accentuating the dimple in his chin. “You did make a good point at the function, though.”

I scoffed. “You didn’t seem to think so at the time.”

“That’s because, at the time, I was trying to balance a plate full of desserts and steer a drunken Paul back to our table. No thanks to you.” The last sentence was added with a slight glimmer in his eye.

I moved to the end of the aisle and continued looking through books. “I’m a waitress, not an escort.”

“What’s the difference?” He cocked his eyebrows and smirked.

It was moments like these that called for those overdramatic eye rolls. I could have come to the bookstore on any other day, at any other time, at any other location in the city. But I chose today, right now, at this one. And he just had to be here. Jordan Staal. If this was Fate’s idea of a joke, then I wasn’t finding it funny.

“You really don’t care who I am, do you?” His voice, being a few feet away from me now, seemed surprised and confused.

“Nope,” I replied. He chuckled. I turned to him slightly. “I know what you’re thinking; that I do actually care or that I’m just pretending I don’t to seem aloof and mysterious.” The smile didn’t falter on his face as I continued. He stared at me intently, waiting. “But in a world where authors, scientists, doctor’s, and athletes share the same soil, I’d have to say I’d start stuttering with the literary geniuses or medical miracles.”

“That’s pretty deep,” he said with a small laugh. “You don’t seem like the kind of girl who stutters.”

“I save my super-fan combustion for only once a year,” I said with a cheesy smile. I moved to the next aisle and felt him behind me.

“That’s funny,” he said, though I wasn’t sure if he actually meant it this time. Just then, a cell phone began ringing and he reached into his pocket. Putting it to his ear, he spoke briefly with whoever it was on the other line, saying he would “be there soon”. “Well,” he said while putting the phone back in his pocket, “this has been...interesting.” He picked a book from the shelf and began moving to the end of the aisle, but before he was completely gone he turned around and said, “You should probably rethink your theory for Mr. Bookstore over there.” He cocked his thumb towards Casey, flashed a small smile, and then disappeared amongst other shelves.

~

Back at my dorm room, I mulled over the day’s occurrences. What did he mean by saying I should change my theory for Casey? And why did he always have to speak in riddles like that? Who would have thought a hockey player would be so well-versed.

“Are you okay,” a voice asked, breaking through my thoughts. I looked up at my roommate Emma who was stuffing a few of her textbooks into her bag. “You’ve been in a trance for the past five minutes.” Emma was a normal girl, which was good considering roommates were assigned to you. She was the perfect combination of involved yet not too involved to the point where I would hate her for being too nosy. She also wasn’t too much to deal with. Her style in clothing and decor was just like mine, sparing me the sight of pet snakes or skulls in the room.

“Do you believe in Fate?” I asked her. She stared at me for a moment, her brow knitting. “You know, like the force or whatever.”

She nodded, signalling she understood. “I guess,” she said with a shrug. I looked back down at the psychology textbook, opened and unread on my crossed legs. My bed was probably the worst place to study, but in this case, I wasn’t really studying.

“I don’t,” I replied. “It just gives you an excuse for not trying in life and hands over all control to something mystical. I mean – I could go one place and not run into someone, or I could go to the other and see them. It’s all just coincidence.”

Emma was silent for a moment, her light brown hair falling out of its ponytail as she continued trying to stuff books into her bag. “That’s because you’re stubborn,” she said, turning to me. “But I mean that in the most loving way possible.” She smiled broadly and I stuck my tongue out at her. Finally zipping up her bag, Emma walked to my bed and towered over me. “Aaron and I are going for drinks later; you should come.”

“And be the third wheel? I don’t think so.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “You won’t be the third wheel. He said he’s going to be meeting some friends there.” She waited as I thought this over. “Just come!”

“Fine,” I replied, slightly taken aback, “Jeez!” Emma smiled then ruffled my hair playfully, knowing how much I hated when she did that, then walked out of our room. A night out for drinks with Emma and her boyfriend. What could be so bad about that?