Temporary Fix

I had thought that at some point after moving back home I would be motivated to finally get my shit together, but nope. It was official -- I had literally hit rock bottom, or as I was calling it, Mara Horton’s Quarter Life Crisis.  

The thing was, my mourning period wasn’t quite ending. Not only was I still crying over Liam, but even more so now for my ex-best friend and lack of apartment and job. I sought comfort in my family home’s basement, which had more or less become my spot. It was nice and cool with central air conditioning, saving me from the California heat outside. I also had a giant, flat screen TV hanging on the wall across from my futon to hook up my Netflix account to, which meant endless episodes of Gossip Girl. To top it all off, my mom did all the cooking and she and Dad often kept me company whether it be for a chat or watching some TV. I’d say the most productive thing I’d done since moving here was call up the exterminator for our termites. They had set up a date to come and take a look, but not for a while, which meant I’d be stuck in the basement for longer than I’d thought. I wasn’t complaining, though.

The pathetic part was, I would have been content in living the way I was. But then Dad came down to see me one morning and told me that if I didn’t start doing something in terms of a job, then moving out and doing the rest would be impossible. He had a point. My bank account was crying at the moment from how low my funds were. I didn’t have enough to give a deposit for a new apartment, nor was I going to be able to scrape some together for my monthly bills. I had to get some sort of paying job, otherwise I was screwed.

So I begrudgingly got off my comfortable pull out futon and dressed myself in something other than pajamas. It took a while, though, because I wasn’t quite sure what to wear. The chances of me finding an extravagant job was low considering it was such short notice, so I was probably going to have to look for something that was low maintenance, but good pay. However, if I did get lucky and something really good came my way, I wouldn’t be opposed. Besides, it wasn’t like I could afford to be picky right now. I was in a crisis.

In the end, I decided on a pair of shorts, white t-shirt, and sandals. This was considered business casual when you were in Laguna -- it was safe -- for now.

As I made my way to the busier part of the city, I reevaluated my plan. Essentially, the goal was to just wander from store to store, asking if they needed any extra help. A part of me knew that a majority might say no, but it didn’t stop me from filling out a few applications and speaking to the shop owners anyway. The process was long and exhausting, but after going through most of the stores within a three mile radius, I started heading back home.

That was when I saw the small HELP WANTED sign sitting quaintly in the corner window of a bookshop called Tattered Cover. At first, I was confused as to how I missed it the first time around, but upon closer look I understood. The small bookshop was hidden between a thriving cupcake bakery called The Cupcake Craving and a nail salon where gaggles of loud girls walked in and out of the door periodically. Not only that, but the sign was surrounded by so many books that any person walking by wouldn’t be able to see it unless they stopped and observed first. There wasn’t anything that screamed for attention about the place. It was just there. The window display didn’t offer much, either. It just had stacks of books lined up and the interior looked rather dim.

I found myself going in, anyway. The place was empty, some dust circulating in front of me, and it was extremely hard to navigate my way through because it was covered with books inside as well. Everywhere I turned, there were stacks of them on shelves, tables and even the floor. What kind of a business was this? How did they ever sell anything with everything so cluttered? It was driving the neat freak side of me crazy. I was itching to just start dusting and shelving everything.

Before I could give in to the temptation, though, someone walked over with a stack of books in his hand. A really hot someone. This guy looked like a literal dream. His dark, long hair was fixed into a top bun with the sides shaved. He had a thick, five o'clock shadow going on and a nose ring, making him the most eccentric looking guy in all of Laguna. And that wasn’t even an exaggeration. Most guys here either dressed like someone in a J. Crew catalogue or in bro tanks and board shorts. This guy had on a simple black t-shirt and a pair of Levi’s jeans, making the ensemble looking like it was designer or something. He also had tattoos -- tons of them -- and I wondered how long I was stood there, just studying him; his lovely, tan skin tone, his chiseled jaw, and those soft, brown eyes.

“Can I help you?” he asked, his lips in a soft pout and eyes smoldering. Good God.

I shook my head, but then quickly nodded when I remembered what I’d come in here to do. “I, uh -- I’m here for the job. I saw your, um, help wanted sign.” His beauty was rendering me to being forgetful and a stuttering mess. One could only hope for that kind of power.

“Oh, thank God,” he said almost immediately, like he wasn’t aware of the effect he had on people. Bullshit. “I put that up there this morning, but didn’t think I’d get anyone for a while.” He grinned, extending his hand forward, and I felt like I was turning into a puddle of poo. “I’m Zayn. I own the shop. Nice to meet you.”

I shook his hand, noticing how soft, yet firm his grip was. “I’m Mara. Nice to meet you, too.” I glanced around the shop briefly. “This is a great place. Lots of books.”

Zayn laughed, shaking his head. “You don’t have to be nice about it. I know it’s a fucking mess right now, but it’s not always like this. I’ve got everything sorted usually, but the guy that worked for me before quit, like, a week ago I’d say, and my pride has been too big for me to realize I needed some help running the place. And it’s a used book shop, so people have to browse to buy, but they don’t always put things back where they belong, hence the mess.”

I nodded my head, like I understood the woes of retail. Truth was, I’d never worked retail in my life. I worked on campus for a while at the front desk for a dean, but nothing else other than the job at Naked. “So these are all used books?” I asked.

“Yeah,” Zayn replied. “Some I bought online, but most, and by most I mean majority, were donated by the community. They’re all in pretty good condition and the shop does well. Please don’t be misled by the dust. Without any help, it’s hard to manage a shop by myself all day and clean afterwards.”

“I get that,” I told him. “Shocked you made it this long.”

Zayn chuckled at that with a shrug, leading me toward the cash register where he put down the books he was holding. It took me by surprise that he owned the place considering he couldn’t be much older than me. I watched as he stepped behind the counter and pulled out some paperwork. “These are some documents that you would need to fill out if you want to work here, but quite frankly, this is just a formality. I can hire you on the spot if you’re ready to work tomorrow.”

“Really?” I asked, my eyes widening in surprise.

Zayn nodded. “Absolutely. Do you see the state of this place? It’s driving me crazy. The hours aren’t bad. I open the shop around nine. We have a steady stream of customers throughout the day and we close at seven at night. I’ll be asking you to assist customers, help me clean and organize the place, and man the cash register when need be. Do you think that’s something you could do? I would definitely show you the ropes, and the cash register is literally an iPad, which I’m sure you know how to use.”

It didn’t sound too bad -- in fact, it was more than I could have hoped for since Zayn was willing to hire me on the spot. I glanced down at the paperwork and saw that it asked for the usual information. Identification forms, tax and payment, etc. Easy enough. I thought back to the other places I’d applied to today and while they were good, I couldn’t afford to wait around. Besides, I liked it here. The quiet atmosphere mixed in with how hot and friendly Zayn was, I felt like it’d be a good experience.

I looked back up at Zayn and nodded with a smile. “Sounds great. I’d love to work here.”

“Amazing,” Zayn grinned even wider. “So can you have these filled out for me by tomorrow and meet me out front at, say, nine sharp?”

“Yeah, I can do that.”

“Thanks so much. You’ve honestly just made me so happy I could hug you.”

I would not be opposed to hugging Zayn. Or making out with him. But he didn’t need to know that. Instead, I smiled brightly at him and pushed the papers together before bidding him goodbye with a promise to see him the next morning.



There was a nice spring in my step on the way home that hadn’t been there since probably my breakup with Liam. Things had been going downhill for me so fast, that it felt great to finally have one thing work out in my favor. I picked up my favorite iced coffee drink after leaving the bookshop and walked the few blocks home, excited to tell my parents of my progress.

But when I got to my block, I noticed Harry was leaving his house, making me slow my steps and hope that he wouldn’t spot me. After I encountered him the first time, I’d made sure I didn’t see him again. I had no interest in talking to Harry or being his “friendly” neighbour again. Sipping my drink, I looked down at my phone, hoping someone texted me so that I could walk even slower and miss Harry. However, I had no new notifications. Not even one from my parents.

I was truly at my most pathetic state.

“Hey, Horton!”

Groaning to myself, I slowly lifted my head up, and faced Harry. He’d unfortunately come down the block toward me and had a stupid, dimpled grin on his face. “Hey,” I responded, faux casual.

“So you’re still here,” Harry observed, thoughtfully. “Thought you’d have left already. You don’t usually stick around for too long when you come down.”

I crossed my arms, watching him suspiciously. “How do you know how long I stay here when I come?”

“Because your parents tell me,” he replied, laughing. “Don’t worry. I’m not staring out the window and keeping track of your coming and going.”

“My parents?” I asked.

“Kevin and Marge?”

“I know their names,” I snapped. “I just didn’t know you talked to them enough for them to tell you all this.”

“Of course I talk to them,” Harry said, matter of factly. “We’re friends.”

“Oh my God,” I muttered. As if this couldn’t get any worse. Harry being friends with my parents was both lame and annoying. Just like his entire existence. I cocked my eyebrow, noticing his tight fitted jeans, grey t-shirt and fedora. Total douchebag get up, if you asked me, but I wouldn’t expect anything less from Harry Styles. “So, still living with your parents?”

Harry eyed me for a moment, clearly picking up on the condescending tone, and instead chuckled good naturedly. God -- did anything ever bother this guy? “I don’t live with them anymore, no. I live in an apartment a few minutes away from here with my friend Niall. You probably remember him -- that loud kid who was always laughing at everything anyone ever said. I’m staying at my parents house while they  are on vacation. What about you? Now that I’m thinking back, I did see a moving truck a couple of days ago. Did you move back in?”

“No,” I quickly huffed out, immediately defensive. “I’m just -- some stupid shit went down in LA and I had to come back here for a few days. But I’m leaving -- like, super soon.”

“Some stupid shit...what --”

“Would you look at the time?” I quickly interjected, glancing down at my phone. “I gotta go. Uh, my mom. Yeah, she, uh. She needs me. I’ll see you around. Bye!”

Quickly side stepping Harry, I walked toward my house without looking back once. I was in no mood to stand around and explain to Harry all the embarrassing shit that had forced me to move back to Laguna. He was the last person I’d want to tell considering I’d be further humiliated knowing the guy I hate knew about how I failed.

When I walked into the house, I found both my parents in the kitchen, sharing some cut fruit and scrolling through their phones. “Hey guys,” I greeted, placing my near empty iced coffee cup on the counter. I opened the fridge and reached inside for some hummus before grabbing the crackers from the pantry.

“Hey munchkin,” Dad responded. “Any luck on the job hunt? It’s usually hard on the first day.”

“It actually wasn’t,” I informed him, dipping a cracker in the hummus before popping it in my mouth. “I got a job.”

“You did?” Mom exclaimed, eyes lighting up. “Where?”

“This bookshop called Tattered Cover. The owner’s this super young guy and he only asked me a few questions before hiring me on the spot. His last guy quit on him a week ago and he needs help ASAP.”

My dad grinned. “Well, that is fantastic news. And it calls for celebration. I say we go out to eat tonight. Maybe that crab shack by the beach?”

“I love that place,” Mom nodded, agreeing.

I gave them my consent because I was not going to turn down a free crab dinner and went down to the basement to relax for a few hours before we headed out. I changed out of my clothes and crawled underneath my duvet, seeking comfort and trying not to feel disheartened about things. I should be happy that I got a job, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was a failure for ending up here at all. When was this self-pity wallowing going to end?

My phone buzzed from where I’d left it on the floor, snapping me out of my self-deprecating state. When I reached for it, I saw there were three texts from Ava.

Hey!

How are you?

Just wanted to talk...see how you were doing. Call me! Xoxo

Rolling my eyes, I deleted her text thread and shoved the phone underneath the duvet before turning on another episode of Gossip Girl.



“All the books are in alphabetical order within their genres, which are listed on the top of the bookshelves,” Zayn pointed out, leading me through the narrow bookcases that lined the shop. “You’ll notice that I have some books scattered around the floor, but they’re there for aesthetic purposes. Sometimes customers leave them out by accident or I’ll put them there. But usually, they have to go back up within a day or two otherwise it’ll pile up and people will trip and I’ll get sued.”

I nodded my head promptly, following him as he showed me around. I’d arrived at 8:50 that morning rather than 9, and waited patiently with all my forms filled out. Zayn got there a minute after 9 and joked with me about how I was already showing him up. So far he’d shown me how to work the cash register app on the iPad and now he was taking me through the shop and giving me a rundown on how it was organized. Most of it was easy to follow, but like all jobs, it would take time to get a steady hang of it.

“The books that are out on the window display are usually the new stock that we get every few days. And as for the books on the table up front, they’re recommendations made by me and customers. Now, do you have any questions so far? I might have gone a bit too fast, but nothing too crazy, right?”

“No,” I shook my head. “I pretty much understood everything. For the recommendations, though -- do you read the books before you recommend them?”

Zayn nodded. “I read a lot, and if something catches my eye in the shop, I’ll take it home and read it before bringing it back. You’re welcome to do that as well if you can take good care of the books.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I responded.

Zayn clapped his hands together. “Alright. So, first order of business -- need you to clean up the books that are on the floor right now while I do the front display with today’s new stock.”

We got to work right after that. It was mostly easy on my end since I just had to organize the books that were on the floor and put them in the correct alphabetical place on the bookshelves. Zayn was manning the cash register, assisting customers, and fixing up the front display. It wasn’t until late afternoon after I’d cleaned up all the books, rang up a few customers, and had my lunch in the back room that Zayn asked me to help a customer.

“I’m looking for something my niece would like,” the brunette woman explained, perching her Prada sunglasses over her head and tucking her hair away from her face. “She likes science fiction, but wouldn’t mind anything mythical.”  

“Oh,” I mumbled slowly, looking for Zayn to help, but he was already assisting someone else and wasn’t even looking my way. While I’d never done retail before, it couldn’t be that bad helping a customer. Zayn did it so easily, and I caught a few things while I was observing him before. I could give it a shot and just hope for the best. I turned to the woman again. “Let me take you to the science fiction section. The fantasy and mythical genre is only two bookshelves down.”

“Do you have a specific favorite?” the woman asked, following me. “I’m really not sure what to pick.”

“Well, in terms of science fiction, I’ve never really read anything within that genre. Or at least none that I can remember. I have read fantasy, though -- the Harry Potter books, but I’m sure your niece already read those if she’s a big fan of the genre.”

“She has.”

“Thought so. Anyway, these are the science fiction books,” I gestured, looking through the different titles. The only one that caught my eye was Ender’s Game and only because I saw Liam reading it when he slept over my place once. I pulled it out of the bookshelf and showed it to the woman. “This one is pretty good, I’ve heard.”

“Is it?” she asked, studying the cover carefully. “I don’t think Bethany read this one.”

“You should get it,” I coerced. “My ex-boyfriend read it and he told me he really enjoyed it.”

As soon as I said it, I paused, stilling in my movements. It was the first time I’d called Liam my ex-boyfriend without feeling any sort of immediate heart wrenching pain, or without the sanguine thought that this was temporary and we were getting back together. The woman, unaware of my internal battle, read the back cover before smiling at me. “This sounds great. I’ll take this and maybe one of those initials bookmarks you have up there?”

I nodded jerkily, trying to snap out of my relationship daze. “I’ll ring you up,” I said, leading her to the counter. Zayn was finished helping the other customer, and he watched as I rang up the woman’s book and the ‘B’ bookmark before sending her off on her way. When she left, I turned to Zayn. “How’d I do?”

“Really well for your first time,” Zayn commented. “But maybe smile a little more?” I frowned at his words, instead, and Zayn laughed. “I’m just saying -- it’ll make the customer feel better with their purchase. This is, like, retail 101.  Trust me, I love brooding myself, but a smile won’t hurt.”

“I’ll try it out next time,” I cracked, giving him a sardonic smile

“Atta, girl,” Zayn winked at me before heading to the back for his lunch break.



The rest of the day went by pretty quickly. For a used book shop, Zayn garnered quite a lot of customers, and I felt like I was constantly doing something. It helped that Zayn was nice about it and not too hard on me if I messed something up, which I did a few times. Like when a customer wanted to return something and I ended up charging her card instead of refunding, so he had to come over and give her a double transaction back. Or when I accidentally toppled over a pile of books he’d just “aesthetically organized” and had to redo.

By the time the clock struck seven, I was relieved to have gotten through the day. Now,  I just wanted to go home, shower, eat my mom’s cooking, and binge watch stuff on Netflix. I’d gotten way too comfortable with that routine and I was still mourning the loss of my previous life, so it was completely acceptable. My last task of the day was to order a bunch of cheap, used books off of Amazon that customers requested when they came in earlier, but we didn’t have in stock. I was in the middle of checking off each item from the list Zayn gave me while scanning the shopping cart when the front door opened.

I looked up from the list, ready to tell the customer that we were closed for the day until I saw it was Harry. He looked surprised to see me as well, his eyebrows shooting up and a slow smile forming on his lips.

“Horton?” he questioned.

I sighed heavily, not at all in the mood to have this conversation. But when was I ever in the mood to talk to him? And why was it that on top of every bad thing that happened to me, fate was also pushing me to face Harry Styles everyday? What bad thing had I done in my previous life for karma to be chewing my ass this hard right now?

“We’re closed, Harry,” I told him in response. “I turned the sign at seven on the dot.”

“The door wasn’t locked.”

“That’s because Zayn has the key, but regardless, if it says we’re closed, you don’t come in anyway.”

Harry was grinning his stupid fucking, cheesy grin like he was amused by my irritation. “Do you work here now or something? Guess your visit is a lot longer than I thought.”

“Guess so,” I remarked in a flat tone, going back to checking the books off the list. “Did you need anything?”

“I did, actually,” he responded, walking up to the counter and leaning on it with his arms. When I glanced at him, I noticed he was a lot closer than expected, and I could smell his musky cologne from where I was standing. “Is Zayn around? I wanted to talk to him.”

“He’s in the back, recording today’s sales or something. I don’t know if you’re allowed to go back there or not.”

“I’ll wait.”

Lucky me, I thought sarcastically. As I continued to go through the list, I realized I forgot a few of the books, which meant the process was taking longer than needed. Harry continued to stand there, watching me in amusement until I finally met his green eyed gaze.

“Can I help you?” I asked him.

Harry laughed, face lighting up. “You’re so cranky all the time. I mean, I understand that my mowing on Sunday morning might be why you’re mad, but still? It’s been a few days and it’s not good to harbor negative feelings, Horton.”

“I’m not always cranky,” I argued. “You irritate me and it wasn’t just the mowing.”

“What else is it, then?”

“You know what.”

“It’s been a while. Refresh my memory.”

“You literally terrorized me all throughout our childhood,” I spat. “You pulled my hair, made fun of my name, and constantly annoyed the shit out of me. And oh, let’s not forget the time you told my crush in tenth grade how I liked him and that I’d hung up his school picture in my room! And that’s not even half of it. You did so much more that it would take me days to stand here and list them all out for you.”

Harry stared at me for a moment, surprised, like he wasn’t expecting me to just burst out like that. I wouldn’t put it past him to forget all that had happened considering it’d been a while, but he was responsible for a lot of the most traumatic experiences in my past, and I think he needed to be put in his place.

“First of all,” he eventually began. “You have a really good memory and I’m sorry I was such a shit when I was a kid, but you really did hang Jeremy Lewis’ picture on your wall. It was so big, I could see it from my window.”

“But you didn’t have to tell him that! He wouldn’t speak to me anymore, Harry.”

“And how does that matter now, in the grand scheme of things?”

“It doesn’t, but it did then, and I don’t trust you nor do I want to be friends all of a sudden. So quit your friendly act. I’m not interested.”

He clutched his chest dramatically. “That hurts. You’ve known me all your life and I would have hoped we could put aside our past and begin anew.”

“Not a chance in hell, Styles.”

“Fine,” Harry put up his hands in surrender. “But at least tell me what you’re doing in my friend’s shop. Are you working for him now?”

It hadn’t occurred to me that Zayn could be friends with Harry, but while Laguna wasn’t relatively small, we all sort of knew each other through mutuals. Plus Zayn was around my age, which meant he was around Harry’s age, too, so it made sense. However, I knew Zayn didn’t grow up around here. He moved from NorCal about three years ago. “What’s there to know? I needed a job and so I got one. Your friend happened to be hiring.”

“You needed a job?” Harry asked, brows furrowed. “What happened to the job in LA?”

“What’s it to you?” I defensively asked. “Not like you should care since we aren’t friends.”

“Hey, I care.”

I rolled my eyes. “Nothing happened to it. It just -- it wasn’t working out. So I have to look in other places. This is temporary.”

“Temporary, hmm, alright.” His intense eyes were looking at me calculatingly, and I rolled my own once more before going back to the list.

Zayn walked out of the back room at some point, joining us, eyes lighting up upon seeing Harry. “Hey,” Zayn greeted, walking toward him and giving him a hug. “It’s been awhile since I’ve seen your ugly face around here. Bakery keeping you busy?”

“Bakery?” I asked curiously.

“Harry works at the bakery next door,” Zayn explained, looking over at me. “Oh wait, I haven’t introduced you two.”

“No need, Z,” Harry smiled at me slimily. “Me and Horton go way back.”

“You do?”

“We used to take baths together as babies,” Harry informed him with a nonchalant expression.

Zayn’s eyes widened while I groaned, tilting my head back to look up at the ceiling. Why, God? Why was Harry Styles so hell bent on embarrassing me? When I looked back at him, he was watching me with an amused expression again. I wanted to throttle him.

“Nice to, uh, know,” Zayn chuckled softly as he looked between the two of us. “Mara, all set on the books?”

I nodded. I was finally able to check everything off the list,  so I moved aside for Zayn to come through and fill in all the credit card details. As I gathered my things, I could hear Harry and Zayn conversing.

“What are you doing this weekend?” Harry asked Zayn. “Want to go to the bar with me and Niall?”

“Depends,” Zayn replied. “Are you going to Paul’s place?”

“Of course,” Harry confirmed. “Why go somewhere else when you could go to the best?”  

“I’m down then,” Zayn smiled.

“Awesome,” Harry said. He paused for a moment. “You’re always welcome to join, Horton.”

“I’m good,” I responded.

Harry snorted, chuckling as he backed away toward the exit. “Suit yourself. See you guys around.”

He waved to the two of us before seeing himself out, leaving me and Zayn alone once more. “So, you and Harry, huh?”

“What?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.

“What’s going on there? There seems to be some intense history. Did you guys date or something?”

“No,” I spluttered. “Why would you think that? That is so disgusting. I can’t believe you even said it.”

Zayn laughed loudly. “Chill. I don’t know. I’m just trying to understand.”

“We definitely did not date. We grew up together, sort of, and he’s always been annoying. I don’t like him at all, and now he’s just acting like he’s my good friend or something.”

“I think he likes you,” Zayn replied, smirking at me.

“I think you’re insane,” I immediately retorted, grabbing my purse. “I’m heading out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Alright. Thanks for all your help today. You were great.”

“I was okay,” I chuckled. “I’ll be better tomorrow. I promise.”

Zayn gave me a salute in return as I exited the shop and walked out into the night breeze of Laguna. The area was bustling with people, who were either headed to dinner, or  to the bar for a drink. I bypassed all of them and made it onto a quieter street. It was at that moment that the sun slowly started to descend, casting the sky in hues of orange, pink and purple amongst the blue. The palm trees swayed from the breeze, light illuminating from between the leaves. It was beautiful, something I’d missed when I had moved to LA. I always felt that sunsets were longer in Laguna for some reason, and it made me smile that it hadn’t changed even though I did.

I felt like LA had hardened me up a bit -- made me a little jaded and see the world through a different lens because things were so different out there. People were more selfish and not everything seemed so easy, so you had to work twice as hard to get what you wanted. Being back in a familiar place seemed simple when I thought about it, but I felt like I was trying to fit the new me into the same old mould. Harry hadn’t ever left, so he grew up with his old friends and made new ones. He was comfortable and he still fit in the mould. I was jealous of that. I was jealous of everyone who knew what they were doing. They had their jobs, lives, and even favorite bars figured out and I couldn’t even get off the couch to go to the bathroom most days.

If realizing this wasn’t motivation enough, I wasn’t sure what would be. I needed to change things from now on. I couldn’t keep sitting still and wait for things to work out. I had to make things happen myself.