“Would you mind stopping at the bookstore?” I asked after sliding into Dominic’s car.
“I want to check out D.L.
Math’s latest book.” My friend and roommate was tall, wearing his shoulder-length blonde hair loose.
He was big and athletic—no surprise he was at college on a football scholarship.
“Sure,” he said.
“I’ll look around my favorite section, too.” He smiled.
“I won’t be able to drive you to school tomorrow, Ginger,” he added.
“I know,” I replied.
“I remember.
Football team orientation.
It’s fine, I’ll take the bus.”
“You’re sure that’s okay?” he asked, his tone protective.
“The bus will be crowded on a Monday morning,” I said.
“It won’t be a problem.
I have to handle it.” He just nodded.
We stopped in front of the bookstore, which was already packed.
D.L.
Math was one of my favorite mystery writers, and a new volume was coming out this week.
Like always, they put out a few display copies for people to flip through.
I stepped behind the crowd.
Dom waved and headed to the other side of the store while I waited for a chance to reach one of the books.
A sign caught my eye: since this was his tenth book, the first hundred people to pre-order would receive a signed copy.
Well, I definitely wasn’t going to be one of them, and I wouldn’t be able to buy it for a while anyway.
Victor’s hospital bills were hefty, and those were more important than a book.
I waited for the crowd around the table to thin, but people kept coming and going.
Every time I reached for the book, someone else was faster.
Refusing to touch anyone made the task nearly impossible.
A tall, broad-shouldered guy about my age—handsome, with stubble and wearing jeans and a T-shirt—walked around me and snagged a copy from the table.
He scanned the back cover, then held it out to me.
“Are you waiting for this too?” he asked.
I nodded and took the book from his hand.
“Are you signing up?” he asked, gesturing with his head toward the line at the other counter.
“I think you can still make the first hundred.”
“No, thanks,” I said.
“I won’t be able to buy it right now, unfortunately.”
I flipped through the book—it looked exciting—when someone in a rush gave my back a slight shove.
I let out a startled squeak and dropped the book.
The guy looked over from his browsing and arched an eyebrow.
“Sorry,” I muttered, scrambling to pick up the book and place it back on the table.
Dom appeared just then, and the tall guy walked away.
“Are you okay?” Dom asked immediately.
“I thought I heard you shriek.”
“I’m fine,” I replied.
“I just dropped the book.”
On Monday, I woke up in my small room at dawn.
I couldn’t sleep; classes started today.
I got dressed, sticking to the style I’d worn for years: baggy pants and an oversized, long-sleeved top.
I pinned my long, curly red hair up tightly.
Last year, I’d dyed it brown and only wore dark clothes, but I’d improved enough that gray clothes and my natural hair color were okay now.
Dominic had already left for football practice, so I was headed to college alone.
It was time to rebuild my confidence.
I walked to the bus stop.
The tall guy from the bookstore was already there, looking at his phone, though he glanced at me occasionally.
Over the last few years, I’d learned to notice when someone was watching me.
I didn’t like being watched.
“Excuse me,” he said, stepping toward me.
I took a step back, but he didn’t move further.
“Your bag,” he said, looking at my backpack with the college logo.
“Is it open?” I asked, taking it off, but everything was fine.
“I’m looking for this college, and I don’t know which bus goes there,” the guy said.
“I’m going there too,” I said.
“You gave me the book yesterday, so I’ll show you the bus.” I smiled.
“And here it is.” I pointed to the arriving bus and boarded.
The guy followed curiously; he clearly wasn’t a local.
The bus was packed.
I stood by the window, shrinking into myself as the guy towered over me.
I took my bag off and placed it at my feet.
“Sorry,” I said as the other passengers pushed me against the guy’s chest.
I was short, especially compared to him; I didn’t even reach his chin.
I tried my best not to touch anyone.
“It’s fine,” he replied.
“Is the bus always this crowded?” He looked visibly disgusted by the mass of people.
“It’s Monday morning,” I laughed.
“Obviously.”
We got off after a few stops.
The guy sighed and stood still while I headed toward the prearranged meeting spot with my friends.
“Have a nice day,” I said, leaving him behind.