"Jason's POV"
I bailed on the guys earlier than usual. Laughter was bouncing around the booth, drinks spilling as they roasted each other about girls, work, money. Normally I'd be right there in the middle of it, but my head wasn't in it. By the third round I couldn't even fake a smile. My mind kept drifting back to that street, that black sedan, that guy beside her.
So I muttered something about being tired and ducked out. They probably thought I had a girl waiting. The truth was worse; I was running from the image stuck in my head.
I woke the next morning with a skull-splitting headache, the kind that made the ceiling sway when I blinked. I blamed the drinks, though I knew better. I had one too many because I was stressed, because the night felt like a cage I couldn't break out of.
Groaning, I shuffled to the fridge, hoping for something—anything—that would help. All I found was water. Figures. I grabbed a bottle, twisted it open, and leaned against the counter, head pounding. My stomach growled. I picked up my phone and ordered food, then sat there staring at the wall like it might give me answers.
For a second, I thought about just quitting. Dropping the bet with Mike. She was crawling under my skin, dragging me out of my lane, and for what? A girl who had brushed me off every chance she got. A girl who had a boyfriend.
But even as I thought it, I knew it was a lie. Quitting wasn't in me. Not with her.
My phone buzzed, jolting me. Mike.
"What's up?" I muttered.
"Heard you left early yesterday. Unlike you."
"Wasn't feeling it. You weren't there either. Why?"
"Don't tell me you bailed because you were waiting for me."
"Crazy. Why would I do that because of you?"
"Of course. You only pull that stunt for women, never for your boy of ten years."
"Cut the crap. Why'd you call?"
"You haven't given up on the bet, right?" His tone was sharp, teasing, but I couldn't tell if he wanted me to win or lose.
"What's it to you?"
"Ohhh. Nothing. Just that I found out something that might help you. But, hey, maybe I should keep it—"
"What is it?" I snapped before I could stop myself.
"Heard she works at a library on weekends."
My pulse jumped. "From who?"
"I don't leak sources."
"Which library?"
"Not sure, but close to where she lives."
I tried to sound flat, cold, like I didn't care. "Oh. Okay."
"Oh, and let's meet up later. I've got news about Charles..."
"Later. I'm busy." I cut the line before he could finish.
I sat there with the phone in my hand, staring at nothing. A café during the week, a library on weekends? She didn't give herself a rest day. She worked harder than anyone I knew. Against my will, the corner of my mouth tugged up. What the hell was wrong with me?
The doorbell rang, snapping me out of it. Food delivery. I took the bag, ate fast, and tossed the containers aside. If Mike's tip was true, I had to see for myself.
Still, suspicion nagged. Mike never handed out favors without a catch. Why now? Why for me? But I shoved it down. I didn't need answers, not yet.
I showered, pulled on one of my favorite shirts and jeans—not too formal, not too casual—and stared at myself in the mirror. For a stupid second I thought about that boyfriend, about dressing like him. I shook it off. No way. I'd go as me. If she noticed, she noticed.
Driving slow down her street, I scanned the sidewalks until a storefront caught my eye. The Book Basket. What a name. She had a thing for working at places with tacky signs, apparently.
I parked a little ways off and walked in.
The bell above the door chimed. And there she was—behind the desk, glasses perched on her nose, hair tied into a bun, a book in her hand. She looked…peaceful. Like the rest of the world didn't exist until she heard that bell.
Her eyes flicked up. The peace vanished. Her resting face soured the instant she saw me.
"Hi," I said.
"Are you stalking me? I'm calling the police."
"No, no, it's nothing like that." My words stumbled out faster than I could think. "I just came across this place. My friend lives close by, wanted some books, and I thought I'd…uh…check it out for him." Smooth. Hours of planning, and that's what I had?
She narrowed her eyes, weighing me, but didn't reach for her phone.
"What books do you want to rent?"
"What?" My mind was blank, caught up in the way her eyes pinned me down.
"You said you wanted to rent books. Which ones?"
"Oh. Right. I'll find them myself."
"In this whole store?"
"Okay, then…recommend something. Your favorite."
Her lips twitched. "You seem very interested in my favorites. Hope you enjoyed your coffee last time."
The bitter taste hit my memory. "Loved it. Because it was yours, Cashier #3."
She laughed. Really laughed. Head back, shoulders shaking. For the first time, she wasn't brushing me off or glaring. She was…human. Gorgeous.
I stared, caught off guard.
When she finally stopped, she said, "Have you read Purple Days?"
"What genre is that?"
"What genre do you read?"
"Anything. Just recommend."
"Then Purple Days."
"Fine. Where do I find it?"
She pulled a copy from her desk and slid it across.
"What's it about?"
"No spoilers."
Silence stretched, thick but not uncomfortable. Then she broke it: "Are you renting it, or…?"
"Can I read it here?"
"If you want. Down the aisle, there are chairs. Sit anywhere you like."
I grinned. "But that's far from you."
"Exactly. I need no disturbance."
"So I'm a disturbance?"
"More like a distraction. Thank you."
I smirked and walked off, book in hand.
I tried to read, I really did. But the story slipped past me. My mind wasn't on the words. It was on her. Eventually I got up, returned.
"I'll rent it."
"That's my personal copy," she said. "Go left, blue shelf, second row."
"You gave me your personal copy?"
"I was too lazy to get another."
I almost laughed. Even her laziness was sharp. I got the copy, brought it back, and she explained the library card. I signed up, my name on her records now. Progress.
"I'll give you reviews," I said.
"Just read it. That's enough."
I leaned in a little. "So your name's still a secret?"
Before she could answer, the door slammed open. A girl burst in, voice loud: "Hailey! Girl, you wouldn't believe what just happened—"
Hailey's face fell, eyes darting to mine in frustration.
I leaned closer, let a smirk curve my lips. "Don't worry. I didn't hear a thing. I'll wait till you tell me yourself…Miss Cashier #3."
Then I turned, glanced at the girl who had just spoken the truth out loud, and smiled as I walked past her.
Hailey.
The name echoed in my head, over and over. Hailey. Smooth, sharp, perfect.
I clutched the book tighter as I reached my car. This morning, I'd almost quit. Now, I had two things: her name and her taste in books.
I wasn't giving up anytime soon.