Chapter Fifteen
Nina
Holy crap. West was going to kiss me. I leaned in and––
Honk honk!
I jerked away from him and glanced around.
“I don’t think they were honking at us,” I said, which was probably one of the stupidest statements known to man. Ugh. Why had I said that?
“We should probably go inside,” he said.
And the moment was gone. “Right.”
We headed into the store while I mentally cursed whoever had interrupted what could have been an amazing first kiss. Was West thinking about our missed opportunity too? If he was, he didn’t show it. Walking at an easy pace, like he didn’t have a care or a frustration in the world, he headed to the area with all the organizational and storage items.
We were halfway down the aisle when I saw the holy grail. It was one of those floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, the kind you hook together to make an entire wall devoted to books. I ran my fingertips reverently over the box. “I want one.”
West looked at the label. “You dream about having an entire room full of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with one of those library ladders, don’t you?”
“Of course,” I said. “Doesn’t everyone?”
“If there was an end-of-the-world apocalypse and you had to pick a store to live in, which one would you choose?”
Interesting question. “My first thought is the library, but they wouldn’t have enough food. So I’m thinking a bookstore with an attached restaurant or cafe.”
“I’d pick a Sam’s Club. Tons of food and a decent selection of books.” He walked over to a stack of tubs and grabbed four of them, adding the lids to the top box.
“What is your dad going to do with those? I asked.
“He’ll organize something, and that will make him feel better.” He shrugged. “I don’t get it, but when he’s happy, my life is easier.”
I glanced back at the floor-to-ceiling bookshelf. I didn’t have enough space for something like that in my room, but I could use a smaller one. “I want to look at the bookshelves for a minute.” There was a four-foot shelf that looked far more manageable. Since the box it came in was only a foot wide, it had to be the kind of furniture that needed to be assembled. “This one might work.”
“Have you ever put furniture like that together?” he asked. “Because there are always pieces left over, and it never looks like the picture on the box.”
“I helped my mom put our coffee table together, but it was pretty simple. Just the top and the legs.” I tried to move the box so I could see the directions. It didn’t budge. “How can a box this small be so heavy?”
“Maybe the universe is trying to tell you that’s not the bookshelf for you,” West teased.
“Very funny, but you might be right. I’d rather buy one that doesn’t need to be assembled.”
“That’s a much better plan.”
We paid for West’s storage boxes and then I drove him home, which was my home, too, which was weird. “You never told me why our houses share a driveway and a backyard.”
“Identical twins built the houses, and it was stated in their wills that the houses had to be sold together for the remaining relatives to receive any money from the sale. Otherwise, it would all go to charity. The will also stipulated the buyer, my dad, would pay a reduced price on the property if he promised not to sell whichever house he didn’t live in, but he was allowed to rent it.”
“So the twins were so close they shared a backyard and a driveway?” That seemed like overkill.
“They probably didn’t mind, plus I bet it was cheaper than pouring two driveways and it took less fencing.”
As I pulled into the driveway, I looked at the houses with new eyes. “That’s so weird. I never realized the houses were the same on the outside.” Structurally, the front doors and the windows were in the same place. Mine had cream-colored siding, gray shutters, and a gray front door. West’s was the mirror image with gray siding and cream-colored shutters and front door. It was sort of creepy.
“I helped my dad paint after the last renters left, so I’ve seen your whole house. They’re the same on the outside, but the insides are completely different.”
Why did he sound sad about that? The conversation was lagging, but I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to do. Was a good-bye kiss on the horizon? Stalling for time, I said, “This is totally me being nosy, but why were you late meeting me after school?”
“I had to check in with Mr. Grant about an extra-credit project for social studies. If we do something good for the community, like have a fundraiser, or help clean up a park, and then write a report about it, we get extra credit.”
“That’s cool,” I said. “yet slightly manipulative. What’s your project?”
“I’m thinking about working on the Hilmer building.”
“The old library they’re trying to keep open?” As if he wasn’t perfect enough, now he was saving libraries. I almost swooned.
He sat back and gave me an odd look. “I don’t think anyone is trying to keep it open. They’re asking for volunteers to salvage what they can before they turn it into a recycling center.”
Abort swoon and report to battle stations. “That can’t be right. There’s a group of people trying to raise funds to keep it open until the new library is completed.”
“I hate to rain on your idealistic parade, but Mr. Grant said the company who bought it has already scheduled the rehab to convert it to a warehouse for a recycling center. It’s a done deal.”
“They can’t take away the town’s library. I know there are some issues, but the woodwork is beautiful.”
“Have you been there lately?’ West asked. “The place smells like mildew.”
Okay, the place did smell a little funny, but I wasn’t about to admit that. Besides, a little funding for repairs and a good cleaning with bleach should take care of any problems. I had to make him see reason. “Haven’t you watched those shows on HGTV where they restore old houses?”
“Not on my top-ten list of shows to watch,” West said. “Besides, I’m not the one who told them to convert the building to a recycling center; I just volunteered to help for extra credit. And they’re going to build another library.”
“Yes, but it’s not completed yet. And you’re volunteering to do something anti-book. How can you do that?”
“Anti-book? That’s ridiculous. It’s not like I’m setting books on fire.”
“I understand that, but overall you’re wrong. I’d love to stay and argue, but I need to let Gidget outside before she makes a puddle that I will have to clean up. For now, we’ll have to agree to disagree and continue this later.” I climbed out and jogged up to my front door.
I let myself into the house and Gidget wiggle-walked up to greet me. “Who’s a good dog?” I reached down and rubbed both of her ears at the same time. She closed her eyes and gave a canine snuffle of joy. And that’s why dogs were so awesome. They were an attitude adjustment in furry form. I set my bag down and hugged her, letting my irritation drift away. She ran to the back door and I let her out.
What had I expected from West, anyway? It’s not like he and I were destined to be soul mates and agree on all topics. That would probably be boring. West was just a cute guy with great hair and amazing eyes who lived next door. A guy who smelled fabulous and whose smile made my heart beat a little faster. A guy who’d almost kissed me half an hour ago until that stupid car honked at us. He was also a guy who seemed to have inherited his father’s neat-freak tendencies because he liked pointing out when things were dusty, or could possibly harbor mold or mildew. That wasn’t normal teen guy behavior.
I grabbed my cell and called Lisa to catch her up on the latest not-not-my-boyfriend saga.
“My first response is, oh my God, he tried to kiss you. My second response is, how could he volunteer to turn that amazing old building into some sort of recycling center?”
“I know, right? This leaves me only one choice.”
“Argue with him until he caves?”
“How well you know me.”