Of Books and Bonds

This isn't fair. Any of it.

Cute guys with perfect hair and warm smiles especially aren't fair.

I just wanted to come to the bookstore and spend the day browsing while I hid from the snow outside, not get distracted the whole time by said cute guy.

Not to say he's doing anything on purpose. He's not talking loudly, or being annoying. He's not giving out excessive displays of affection to some beautiful woman. No, he's only being absolutely gorgeous. Which, in my opinion, is pretty distracting.

I saw him about ten minutes into my hunt, scanning the aisles for a book he'd enjoy. Dressed in a flattering black sweater and impossibly long jeans to accommodate his legs, I couldn't take my eyes off of him.

He likes to run his hand across the spines of the books as he walks along them, almost gentle and loving in the action. It's as if he understands how precious they are. That's what I think when I do that, anyway.

Before long, I realized I was staring. Hoping he hadn't noticed, I slipped away. Unfortunately, he's been in every place I have since then.

Even when I tried to distance myself by wandering into the parenting aisle, surrounded by books on pregnancy, he still managed to show up.

That one I can't explain, but the others tell me we must have a similar taste in books. Hopefully he thinks that too, and not that I'm stalking him.

Actually, he probably thinks I'm scared of him. Every time we come across each other, I panic and flee. How am I supposed to have a conversation with that? I've never seen brown eyes be so molten and beautiful, and I'm not sure how to meet them without getting lost.

Once, he caught me staring. He returned my awkward gaze with a soft look, his lips curving up into a gentle smile. I, on the other hand, ducked away as fast as possible. I never knew my reflexes were so quick until now.

I'm surprised I can still breathe.

If Amanda could see this, she'd scold me. She'd tell me to get over myself and talk to him. As far as best friends go, she can be a bit harsh. She only means well.

The thing is, I can't just go talk to him. He's practically an Adonis, and I'm . . . me.

I don't think I'm ugly or anything. I'm not some hideous person unworthy of all praise, which would be cruel no matter the deformity or look. It's only that I'm not extraordinary in any way. I'm just kind of there. Like a lamp, or other inanimate object.

The closest thing I have to a six pick happens to be in my fridge right now. I carry my laundry basket on my hips. Using my hands is just so inconvenient.

I know I should go to the gym more. I know I shouldn't eat tacos, and that I should resist the temptation I get late at night for a bag of sour gummy worms. And I know that I should most definitely go out into the sun more so I can have a tan that isn't radioactive from absorbing my computer screen's light.

Another reason to avoid talking to him is that right now, I'm not really at my best. The birds living in my hair look like they haven't paid me rent in months. Despite trying to do something with it, it ended up in a ponytail. I discovered this morning that, due to the four book series I obsessively read over the week, I had no nice things to wear that were clean. So now I'm dressed in jeans and a hoodie that reads, "I'm not bossy, I just have better ideas." The worst part is, I'm not even wearing makeup. Of course.

Always expect cute people in the least obvious of places. Why haven’t I learned that yet?

In my defense, bookstores are supposed to be judge-free safe havens. I can usually nerd out over my favorite pairings without fear of anyone ruining that. It wasn't high on my priority list to doll myself up for this trip. Making sure I didn't trip on absolutely nothing at all was higher up.

All of these things, however, mean that it's likely I don't stand up to what I'm sure are the guy's high standards. When you look like that, you can have whatever standards you want.

He seems like he would give great hugs . . .

Okay, I’m being creepy now. I'm not usually the type to ogle people out in public. I just do it discreetly, like everyone else. Maybe stalk them over Facebook. Don't pretend you haven't done that.

Deciding to go home before I become any more infatuated, I head towards the exit, empty-handed. I'm too distracted to search for something new anyway.

But as I get close, one of the promotional signs catches my eye. No way. My favorite author just released the last book of a trilogy I almost worship. How did I not know about this?

I scramble back to the shelf the sign says it’s on, desperate to grab a copy before they're all gone.

I take the corner too harshly, realizing too late that I'm off balance. I trip, falling forward until I collide with something solid.

Let me tell you, it's not the ground. That'd be preferable.

No. It's the guy. The. Very. Same. Guy. He doesn't fall, but he's stunned from the impact.

There are regrets here. Lots of them.

This is why it's not a safe idea for me to run.

He's still for a moment, and I can't help but be absorbed in the sensation of how warm he is. And wow, does he smell good. I didn't know it was possible to smell exactly like chocolate and coconut.

Once he recovers from his moment of shock, his arms shift from their place around my waist so they can return me to a standing position.

"Are you okay?" he asks, worried eyes searching mine.

Don't melt. It's fine. It's absolutely fine. There's no reason to panic. It's not as if one of the most attractive human beings I've ever seen is holding me or anything. Even if only by coincidence. I just need to keep breathing. In, out. In, out.

I try to form words, but it doesn’t work. I spot the book I want behind the man's shoulder, so I try to use that as an excuse for my fall. Key word: try.

"You're in the way," I blurt out.

Even more regrets.

He retracts his arms from my body, almost appearing hurt.

"I apologize?" he responds, eyebrows raised.

"I-I, um, I didn't mean it like that," I stammer. "I, uh, I fell since I was going too fast. You see, that book behind you is one I've wanted for a long time. A-and, well, I'm sorry I fell on you. I'm fine, thanks to you."

What am I supposed to do with this? How do you behave after someone saves you from smashing your face on the ground?

I'm thinking about hitting it anyway, embarrassed by my inability to speak.

"Don't worry about it," the guy replies, chuckling. "I've been waiting for the third one too. I just read the first twenty pages, and it's as amazing as the others. This is my favorite series of all time."

Of course. Because right when I thought he couldn't be more perfect, he has to love the same books I do.

"I'm Hunter," he says, holding out a hand.

"I'm Hayley."

His skin is soft when we touch, and I can't control the butterflies that spring up in my stomach. He doesn't let go right away, favoring me with another smile.

I need to stop it. He's too beautiful for me. Why take up any more of his time? I've already made him catch me. My sense of inferiority only increases when I notice just how far apart we are in appearance. He gives new meaning to the phrase "tall, dark, and handsome." Really aware of that whole no makeup thing right now.

"So, are you-"

"I, um, my friend is calling me!" I interrupt, flustered. "I've got to go. But it was nice meeting you, Hunter!"

I scrabble to grab a copy of the book behind him, my face burning at the way he becomes confused.

As I speed past him, I glance back. I can't help but notice that he seems lost and . . . sad? I must be reading the emotion wrong.

When I safely make it away from him, my heart beating erratically in my chest, I take refuge behind the computers used to search the store inventory. The lady next to the counter stares at me reprovingly, shaking her head in an almost disappointed way. She leaves me to my solitude.

Great, she saw the train wreck that was my attempt at being normal. Even the store employees are silently scolding me now. I feel pathetic.

I watch with caution for Hunter to reemerge, peering out from a display. I frown as I watch him leave the store, empty-handed. Why? He seemed so excited about the new book's release. Maybe he can't buy it? That's heartbreaking.

I can only imagine how much it would hurt my inner fangirl if I couldn't read it, no matter the reason.

I bite my lip. Well, I could get it for him. I saved enough money to buy several of the bound paper beauties.

But that's assuming he even wants to talk to me after all this time I've spent evading him. I bet he'd actually think it was creepy. Flattering? Maybe. But still something he might be slightly disturbed by.

No. I'll just go home. I'll make some hot chocolate, sit down, and . . . read. Damn it. He just had to want this one, didn't he? It couldn't have been something I didn't think would be spectacular.

Fine. Fine.

I cross the aisles once more, grabbing another copy of the book. Just because Hunter is cute doesn't mean I'm sharing with him. I'm certainly not waiting for a turn. He can read his own.

I make my way to the register as quickly as possible without causing yet another tripping accident, placing the books on the counter. The same lady from the computers is manning the register now, and she's smiling a bit too broadly for this to just be her normal interaction with customers.

She puts my purchase in a bag, leaning over the counter before she hands it to me.

"You go get him, girl," she whispers, looking proud.

Oh. My. God. A bookstore employee is rooting for a nonexistent relationship with another customer. I'm starting to feel like I'm the book character now, and that I'm being paired with Hunter. The embarrassment of the moment alone makes me flush, so I turn away after giving her a quick thank you. If I wasn't absolutely sure that I would hate myself for backing out of this moment, probably for most of my life, I'd go home to hide.

I speed up as I exit the store, frantically trying to figure out where Hunter could have gone. He probably drove, so he must be parked nearby. The best place to do that is the right side of the building. It takes me a terrifying few minutes to cross the icy sidewalk without incident, and I've received no sign that he's here. I took too long. He's left already.

I don't know why, but that hurts. As if a small part of my heart really had the hope that I could have something with him. I never had a chance anyway. Stupid.

I hold back tears, unsure as to why they're trying to spill from my eyes, and trudge back to where I came from.

Slam!

I collide with something, not surprising due to my lack of attention, and the ice underneath my feet finally seizes its opportunity to make me fall.

I don't hit the ground, which confuses me.

Then the scent of coconut and chocolate invades my senses. My body alerts me to the fact that I'm being held. I look up, only to come face to adorable face. You have to be kidding me.

"We've really got to stop meeting like this," Hunter teases, grinning.

He helps me right myself again, one hand on my arm until he makes sure I'm stable.

Breathe. Okay, lung crisis over.

"Hunter!" I exclaim, trying to hold in my enthusiasm. "What are you still doing here?"

"Am I in the way again?"

I panic for a moment, only to realize he's joking.

"No, uh, I just . . ." I trail off, deciding to continue with my reason for chasing after him. "I'm glad you're here. I got you something."

Surprise fills his features, and I hesitate.

Screw it. I've come this far. I can be brave for a few more moments.

I extract his copy of the book, placing it in his hands.

"But this is . . ." he says, fingers skimming across the cover. "You bought this for me?"

"Well, um, I just saw you leave after not buying it. I didn't know why, so . . ."

"I forgot my wallet in the car," he responds, another smile creeping into his face. "I had to go get it."

Wow. Okay then. If I had waited maybe a few minutes more I would have avoided this catastrophe of a gesture.

"Oh," I reply, awkward now. "I was, uh, sad for you since you left without it. So I thought if you couldn't get it, I would. I, um, see that wasn't the case now."

Hunter's smile only widens, and he starts to roll back and forth on his heels. His eyes are glinting mischievously.

"Hayley, tell me something," he requests, looking far too giddy.

"Okay," I answer, curious. "What?"

"Are you trying to seduce me with a book?"

I . . . didn't think about it like that. Oh my god. That's totally what it looks like too. What if I've offended him? What if he has a girlfriend? I think I'll lay down in the street and hope for death if that's the case, just to end my shame.

"Is it working?" I blurt out again.

Crap. Why can't I ever just keep my mouth shut?

I actually smack myself in the forehead for that one, hating the fact that I wasn't born mute. Ow. That's probably going to leave a mark.

But when I peer back up at Hunter, I'm incredibly relieved to see that he's laughing.

"Maybe," he shoots back. "Do you want it to be working?"

No way. He's flirting with me. His bubbly demeanor starts to affect me, bringing a grin to my face too.

"Maybe," I repeat, poking his chest.

I'm worried I'm getting too brave, but Hunter seems to welcome my courage.

"Well then, what would you say to getting some coffee with me?" he asks, his eyes becoming molten again. "Or we can do something else, since you have better ideas."

It takes me too long to realize he's referencing my sweatshirt.

Wait. Wait. Did he just ask me out? I can't believe it. Did I mishear him?

"Me?" I ask, astonished as I look around. "You mean . . . me?"

He laughs again, poking me back on my shoulder.

"Yes, you. Unless there's another beautiful Hayley around here."

I can feel the blood rush up to my face the same time euphoria comes to my heart.

"Although, I'm not actually so sure you're the right one," he adds, smirking. "The one I'm thinking about happens to have a tendency to duck away anytime I get near her. It makes it a bit hard to discreetly pretend I’m not trying to talk to her."

My jaw is on the floor, and I'm having difficulty remembering that my tongue still works. He's been trying to talk to me this whole time?

"Y-you . . ." I trail off. "You can't be serious."

"Do I really look like I need to read about the top ten tips for labor?"

I think I need to carry around a tank of oxygen with this man, geez. He keeps giving my body tiny panic attacks. All of his actions are finally making sense.

He shuffles a bit closer, almost seeming unsure.

"So, anyway," he starts. "How about it? Can we get to know each other better, Hayley?"

I'm almost waiting for him to say he's joking. That he just wanted to see what I'd answer with.

Then I notice that he's tucked a piece of his hair behind his ear, and that the inside of his right cheek is caught in between his teeth.

I don't believe it. He's nervous. About me.

Seizing the ecstatic jolt of energy I get from the thought, I reach for his hand.

"Sure," I reply, cheerful. "We've followed each other for this long, why not go for a little while longer?"

He doesn't react for a moment, and I worry that I've made a mistake. That I've done something too soon. Then his fingers close around mine, filling the spaces there. He squeezes my hand slightly. The atmosphere almost seems brighter when he beams at me, his smile practically another sun.

"Sounds good to me," he chimes.

"I'm glad you hadn't already bought a copy of the book," I tell him, relived. "I mean, at first I thought you were gone. But even if you were there, it would have ruined the point if you already paid for yours. I guess I have good timing?"

He grins.

"Actually, I almost did get one," he replies. "But then the cashier lady told me that there was something I really needed to see outside. Of course I thought that was weird, but she insisted. I'm happy I listened."

I'm not sure whether to thank every deity in the world to have that woman on my side, or to be embarrassed that I needed her help. I think I'll go with the first one.

"So . . . we never talk about that again?" I ask.

He agrees, chuckling again.

There's a coffee shop across the street from us, so we decide to just walk there.

You know, I could get used to this. It's not so hard after all.

Hunter helps me cross another patch of ice as we near the coffee shop. I'm sure the way he loses his grip on me just long enough for me to have to cling to him was an "accident" like he claims.

But even when I call him out on it as we order and he ardently denies it, I can't stop my joy.

I think I was wrong. Maybe, just maybe, this is fair. Cute guys with perfect hair and warm smiles can be fair.

Especially since Hunter does, in fact, give great hugs.