The city was brimming with bookstores, but I only ever visited Bookies, because the owner and my roommate, Madeline, only ever ate at Kyle’s. It was a nice trade-off that worked well since Kyle’s made the best patty melts, and Madeline always remembered to stock action novellas—my favorite.

As I walked up and down the aisles, I thought about the last time I’d seen Grayson. I couldn’t believe it’d been two days and, in those forty-eight hours, the idea of seeing him even just one more time became more and more appealing. But, honestly, I wasn’t sure if I would be able to handle seeing him a third time. There was just something about him that made my legs wobbly, and my stomach feel like I was on a roller coaster. Secretly, I’d done a little research, having watched two of his more popular movies, and coming to the conclusion that he definitely looked a lot better in person—television just didn’t do him any justice.

I don’t even know why I kept thinking about him. What if he never showed up again? Or, what if he did? What would I say? How would I act? Probably like a bitch like the last time.

Gaaah, why did I do that? Just as I was fretting through my anxiety filled daydream of Grayson showing, and not showing, Madeline’s frustrated groan filled the bookstore and slung me back to the present.

“I’m so sick of people saying that books aren’t important! They are! I know that Kindles are cool or whatever, but books matter, people!”

“I agree,” I replied, almost confused by what had crawled up her panties.

Madeline wrapped her knuckles on a stack of books, her face scrunched in its fierceness. “I’m just sayin’.”

“I know you are,” I nodded again.

Quiet agreement was usually the only defense I had against her passionate rants. They were plentiful and aggressive, and I’d learned by the tenth grade to just wait it out.

Madeline huffed and grabbed one of the books, cradling it to her chest. She was a tiny little thing, even smaller than Alana, and though it couldn’t be seen from the opposite end of the counter, she had to stand on a step stool, wearing her favorite booted heels and lipstick like she always did.

Madeline grabbed a roll of sale stickers from the crowded shelf beside her, sitting on the stool she kept by the register and started slapping them on the stacks of hardcovers on the counter. Bookies was open, but she wasn’t in any hurry to kick me out, so I grabbed a couple of stickers to help.

She raised an eyebrow that I pretended not to notice. “Any particular reason you’re not off to work, Jade?”

I shrugged one shoulder. The diner was open—it’d been open for hours, but I just didn’t want to be there. Every day that Grayson didn’t show up was a disappointment, and I didn’t feel like having to deal with all those emotions so early in the morning. So I slipped out after making two dozen or so pancakes so I could hang out with Madeline and bring her some coffee and muffins.

“Jade?”

I grabbed an armful of stickered books and pointed toward the empty round table she usually had stacked with new releases. “This going over there?”

Madeline recognized my avoidance tactics and opened her mouth before closing it, pursing her lips expertly, and nodded. I walked over, neatly arranging them in nice little stacks.

The little radio was still playing morning talk shows, so reminiscent of AM radio that I nearly chucked it out the window. I hated talk shows, but Madeline loved them; it was one of the biggest rifts in our friendship. She laughed at one of the jokes the radio host said, and I grumbled under my breath. My brain cells were dying at an alarming rate, and I wanted nothing more than for her to turn the shit off.

Once I had all the books situated how I wanted them, I leaned on the counter, holding my chin up with my hands. Madeline ignored me and continued scribbling on a clipboard. From the angle I was at, it looked pretty official.

“Are you just drawing doodles since you don’t want to work?”

“Me? Never!”

We ran our businesses differently, and nothing amused me more than to watch her lazily walk about.

I watched her, and though one of her eyebrows was raised, she said nothing. She just rolled her eyes at another pun from the radio.

“When did we meet, again, Jade?”

“High school.” I stood straight, stretching my arms above my head and yawning. “You wore those God awful yellow gauchos every day.”

“I looked fly as hell,” she snapped, throwing the clipboard on the counter to cross her arms. Her lips twitched as she fought back her grin. “And like you looked any better?”

I sighed and nodded. “Too true.”

“But in all that time,” she hopped off her stool and frowned up at me, not seeming to care that she fell too short to actually hold any sort of intimidating stance. “You’ve gotten absolutely no better at lying.”

I groaned, not wanting to tell her why I was avoiding the diner, or rather, who I was trying to avoid. The nerves in my stomach were distracting enough—the little pinpricks and bees all swarming around inside me. If Madeline only knew, she’d make me tell her all about the brief meetings over and over again until I was willing to introduce her. She wouldn’t let up either, not until she got what she wanted.

But how was I supposed to introduce her to someone I barely knew?

Shit.

I had to tell her something, otherwise, she wouldn’t let up until she got some news which was worthy of me trying to avoid the diner.

Madeline bounced a bit, garnishing pleasure from making me squirm. “Just tell me,” she whined.

I sighed and shook my head, trying to clear the nerves that had raced up my body.

As my lips parted, I was interrupted.

Thank God.

The shop’s doors swung open, and a group of college kids made their way in, exclaiming how swanky the place looked.

Madeline’s gaze flickered between the customers and me, as I pushed away from the counter, saluting at her with a grin. “See you later!”

“Jade!” she hissed under her breath, but one of the kids was pointing toward a book on the shelf in front of her, effectively assuring that she wouldn’t be able to stop me from leaving.

“See you at home!” I called, slipping out of the door before it slammed shut from the group of kids. I could practically hear her mind screaming from outside of the building.

It was a bit chilly outside, but the weather was nice, and I liked to feel the wind swirl around and against me. I liked the crispness in the winter air. It woke me up just as well as any cup of coffee would.

I let out a desperate sigh. As fun as avoiding work was, I didn’t really have any other excuse to hang outside of Bookies. It would be lunchtime soon enough, and I should be there to help out and make sure that things ran smoothly. I shoved my hands into my pockets and turned toward the diner, rounding a bit too quickly with my head still tucked down and my gaze still set on the pavement, which turned out to be a huge mistake.

My eyes fluttered open to the soft blue sky before I’d even realized I’d fallen. My chest was wet and hot, and my back ached from slamming into the hard concrete.

“Oh, my God!” Two hands shot out and wrapped around mine, pulling me up. The grip was strong, and I was on my feet before I could recognize the person who I’d collided with.

Grayson Sparling stood in front of me, his eyes wide as his fingers wrapped tightly around mine. I nearly fell again. I was a fucking klutz around this guy.

His eyes darted about, eyeing me up and down, inspecting me for some injury. His grip tightened, and his gaze lingered on my face. “Diner girl. I’m so sorry. I didn’t see you there.” His hands were warm, and I had a hard time looking away from how perfectly rugged they were. The contrast of his darker skin against my pale wrists and forearms was a lovely sight, and if his face weren’t so appealing, I would’ve easily never looked away.