The workers at these independent, second-hand bookstores are so lovely, so engaging, that it takes everything in me to leave the store.
I resist buying too many books over the next three bookstores, but Marlon seems to catch onto this and declares that if I don’t pick at least two books, he’ll choose one for me himself, and at one point, threatens me with a non-fiction book that looks wholly uninteresting.
I pick up a few more titles that I’ve been itching to own for a long time, and as the purchases pile up, I refuse to think of the lack of space in my bedroom bookshelf. I also refuse to think of the way Marlon hands his card to the clerk discreetly every time. Especially knowing that Marlon doesn’t currently have a job, not after the brief fast-food one he had in high school. But everytime I try to pay, he’s faster.
At no point does Marlon indicate he’s feeling bored, even as I spend a good ten minutes debating whether I should buyJane EyreorThe Picture of Dorian Gray. Even as I worry that deep down, he’s hiding his disinterest, he proves me wrong when I catch him truly looking at some young adult adventure books, and even lingering on some classic titles.
It’s well after midday by the time we’ve ticked off the four bookstore visits, our stomachs rumbling in protest. We pass by a 1950s themed milk bar as we exit the fourth bookstore.
“You want to eat here?” I ask Marlon, when I catch his hungry eyes studying the menu.
“Do you?” he questions.
I saunter through the entrance, giving him no time to protest. We get a small booth in the corner, and both order a hamburger set with milkshakes after scouring the menus.
“Let me treat this, please,” I plead, after the waiter takes our menus.
Marlon shakes his head before I even finish my sentence, but I’m stubborn. I kick at his knee under the table, slightly.
“Marlon.”
“Garcia,” he mimics, propping an eyebrow.
“You’re insufferable”
“I am, and youlove it.”
It turns out that I do.
“I’m paying for this, and I’m not taking no for an answer,” I declare, jutting my chin up. In a flash, I grab my wallet and I exit the booth, heading toward the counter before Marlon can reply.
Approaching the worker, I stumble, “Can I pay for the lunch now, if possible, please?”
Yet, the boy at the counter glances at his coworker, who was restocking drinks into the fridge, before turning back to me.
“Sorry, but your boyfriend gave us his card to pay for it once you finished ordering,” the boy reveals.
My jaw drops.Insufferable Marlon Salvador.
Once we’ve finished lunch, we complete the last three bookstores on the trail.
Unlike the others, I genuinely am unable to purchase anymore, with the selection a little more scarce, but thankfully, Marlon doesn’t push it any further.
There’s a manga section at the final bookstore we visit, and after a little convincing, Marlon lets me treat him to five volumes of Bungo Stray Dogs that he doesn’t yet own.
Though, when we’re back in the car, just as the afternoon paves way for the sun’s descent, Marlon places a frame on my lap.
“What’s this?” I question, confused.
“Turn it over.”
I do as he says, and gasp. On the other side, is an silhouetted illustration of Elizabeth and Mr Darcy, and atop it, in gorgeous calligraphy, reads the direct quote from the novel - ‘you must allow me to tell you how much I ardently admire and love you.’
“Marlon…” I begin, turning to him, my eyes wide with surprise. “I told you not to get me anything at the end.”
“When have I ever listened to you, Garcia?” Marlon retorts, with that mischievous grin.
He’s right.Never.
