Page 33 of All's Fair in Love and Blackmail
“Buy me pretty books and then we’ll talk.” Then, focusing her attention back on the clerk, she says, “How have you been?”
The girl gestures around the store and laughs. “I’m basically working in heaven, so I’m great.” She turns her gaze on me, her smile growing. “And who’s this tall drink of water?” She pauses, frowns, and says, “Tall glass of water? Or is it tall drink?”
I shrug, shooting her a grin and a wink. “I respond to either.”
“Oh, good,” she says as she reaches us. Then she holds her hand out to me. “I’m Jess,” she says.
“Felix,” I say, glancing back and forth between them. “You lovely ladies are clearly close. India must spend a lot of time here.”
India props one hip against the bookshelf next to us and rests her elbow casually on top. “Guilty as charged,” she says, and Jess laughs.
“She does,” she admits, “but we knew each other before I got a job here. I contributed to a piece at the paper back when India was there, and we kept in touch. I was the one that told her about this place when I started working here.”
It takes a second for her words to register, but when they do, I frown and look at India. “The paper? What—the Gazette?”
India’s smile has frozen, her eyes extinguished as the brightness is replaced by something like discomfort.
“Yeah,” Jess says, but the word comes out slowly. “India interned there…” She trails off, and I glance over to see her gaze on India, her cheery expression fading slowly into something more confused. “I think…? Didn’t you?”
The returning smile India gives us is most definitely fake, like she wants to duck behind that bookshelf she’s leaning on. “I did, a million years ago,” she says, and the words are so forced that I shift awkwardly.
She’s being weird. Why didn’t she tell me she worked at the Gazette? Why wouldn’t she mention anything about it?
I guess it doesn’t matter. I don’t have time to ask her right now, and this isn’t the place anyway. So when she clears her throat and changes the subject, I let it drop.
“Anyway, Jess,” India says, “I’m here to show Felix around the best bookstore in Lucky.” She gestures around at the shop, and Jess moves on from the previous awkwardness too.
“Well, as the official sales clerk of this shift, allow me to welcome you.” She gives a little bow. “If you need help finding anything let me know. We’re a romance store?—”
“Are you?” I say, surprised. I glance at India, who shoots me a smug look.
Jess nods. “Yes! So we organize our books by trope, and then alphabetically within each section.” Her eyes sparkle as she leans forward and whispers conspiratorially, “India finds most of her books in the brother’s best friend section.”
Delight flares to life in my chest, chasing away the shadows left by India’s strange behavior. “Is that so?” I say loudly as a wide smile splits over my lips. Next to me India sighs, and out of the corner of my eye I see her run her hand down her face. “What an interesting choice,” I go on. My voice is positively gleeful, and I don’t try to tone it down. “Is brother’s best friend a popular trope?”
“Oh, hugely popular,” Jess says with a nod. “The forbidden aspect, the sneaking around behind the brother’s back—” She breaks off and sighs dreamily. “And that perfect moment when the guy has always thought of her as a little sister, but suddenly he sees her again and she’s all grown up?—”
A twinge of disconcertion plucks at my insides.
“And then the guy can’t reconcile this gorgeous creature in front of him with the little girl he remembers?—”
My smile wavers as that twinge becomes more pronounced.
“Thenbam,they suddenly can’t keep their hands off each other?—”
And this is when I malfunction as a human being.
I choke on nothing but the air I’m trying to breathe—like an idiot. I hack and splutter and absolutely do not think about my hands on India, or even near India. I hurtle through time and space as I try to get oxygen back in my lungs, and I think only about Cyrus and his grumpy face.
By the time I rejoin the conversation five seconds later, India and Jess are looking at me with concern, but there is thankfully no more talk ofhands.
“I’m just”—I gesture to the store—“going to look around a bit.” My words are a little strained after my oxygen deprivation; I need a second to breathe.
India and Jess both nod as I drift away, strolling down one of the aisles. It still smells good in here, and it’s warm, too; a sweet, relaxing environment.
Perfect. I need torelaxmyself into a different state of mind—one where I don’t think about my best friend’s little sister.
I let my gaze wander over the rest of the place as India and Jess continue to chat. In bigger bookstores you often find nice leather chairs for people to sit and read or just to wait. There’s none of that here. Instead there are several large beanbags; two pink, one white, all over in the far corner. I head in that direction, looking curiously at the unique choice of seating.
