Jinora loved her job. She really did.
The small, musty bookstore had become the calm in her storm. Everywhere she went it seemed like there was always something going on— hordes of people moving along the streets in stony faced disregard, screeching and steaming cars at all sides, the blaring of telephones, and the buzz of electronics.
Jinora firmly believed that all the electronics in her life generated a buzz. Cell phones, laptops, and TV screens along with just about everything else considered necessary and commonplace in the twenty first century created a undercurrent. It was a low hum of static energy pervading all life. Sometimes it became nauseating.
The buzz was abruptly cut off the second she shut the heavy oaken door of the bookstore behind her. Every time she did it she felt a blissful smile curl onto her face as she scrunched she her eyes tightly. Blessed silence.
The large warm brown shelves reached up to the ceiling. They were filled with rows and rows of books—thick books, slender books, long books, short books, square books, and all other imaginable kinds filled the place to the brim. There were faded covers that felt textured beneath her fingers as well as glossy covers that slid like silk. They were in spectrums of colors of their own haphazard rainbow. Pale blues, worn magentas, neon purples and mossy greens were a few of her favorites.
She loved them all.
Every single one was a small world with love and passion and she gobbled the pages like fine desserts. Her fingers had become efficient at flicking through novels at high speeds and she invested in expensive lip balm to take care of her frequently chewed bottom lip. You could have said that she was a bibliophile. It would be more apt to say that she was the bibliophile.
The small bookstore was surprisingly popular. It was located on one of the small streets that led off the main downtown drag of Republic City. Its prime location and antique appeal combined made it an unspoken must see for the tourists as well as the locals on their daily business. It was a place for the college students to buy leisure books that they knew they were never going to read and for the older generation to get their weekly fix.
She had come in every day for two weeks before the slight old man that owned the place told her that if she'd be spending so much time here he might as well give her a salary. Jinora had almost bitten her tongue by saying yes so quickly. Surrounded by the books and the low lighting from the sconces on the wall, Jinora felt safe, serene, and present.
It was a slow Wednesday afternoon when she found herself scrawling out her essay on George Bernard Shaw in her favorite journal. She made a point of not bringing her laptop into the bookstore. The only semi-modern piece of electronic apparatus was the old-timey nonelectric cash register she had named Mr. Darcy. She intended to keep it that way.
She huffed a strand of hair out of her eyes as the scratch of her pen against paper lulled her into a meditative state of work where her thoughts outpaced her fingers as they made inky tracks. Academic papers were always more time consuming than they were labor intensive. The bell on the door jangled against the glass and she didn't even look up with her usual cheery greeting. She was in the zone and this five page paper was five hundred words from done and counting.
Light footsteps padded around on the thick carpets layered on the floor. The sound of a book opening and softly closing was all she had to gauge the new person.
Jinora was attuned to her environments meaning that she noticed things. How a person breathed, how their clothes sounded against their skin, the gait of their walk. It was apparent to anyone that paid attention. It didn't make her creepy; it made her aware.
She felt a slight frown knit her brows. This person was just so… Silent. She couldn't hear the rustle of fabric of the rise and fall of breathing. It was almost enough to make her look up but she was almost done—
"Do you carry this in hardback?"
Jinora leapt about a foot of her seat with a surprised shriek. Her heart was pounding as her fingers began to quickly comb her hair back into place and her head snapped to see what idiotic person had snuck up on her and…
Oh my.
The eyes looking back at her were bright green with pale streaks of grey. They gleamed and the phrase 'laughing eyes' struck her so hard that she almost said it out loud. Oh wait, she was supposed to be saying something, but certainly not that.
His mouth was twisted up in a wry grin and now she'd gone from gawking at his eyes to his mouth. She quickly redirected her gaze to the book he held in his hands. Very nice hands they were, too. Obviously, no progress was being made.
She forced herself back into focus and tugged the paperback copy of Candide out of his grip. She couldn't help but laugh when she glanced at the cover. "Voltaire," she said appreciatively as she slid off her stool. She moved around the counter and walked past him to the bookshelves. As she did she caught a whiff of mint and coffee. She wondered if he worked in some kind of coffee house.
"It looked interesting." She glanced back at him and he was rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly, as if embarrassed to be caught with something decidedly intellectual. Well, if you could call Candide intellectual.
She smiled, letting her gaze wander over his mop of black hair. The sides were shaved closely while the top was tousled and thick. It was the classic douche bag hair cut but on him it was downright attractive. His jaw line was strong with high cheekbones. His skin was deeply tanned and she discounted the coffee house idea. He must do something outside. He wore threadbare blue jeans and a t-shirt for a band she had never heard of. Scruffy, but presentable.
Then she remembered that she was supposed to be working and not mathematically calculating just how attractive this boy was and hurried over to a shelf to pull out the thin volume she was looking for. She hoped she wasn't blushing when she turned around and slid past him to go back to the register.
He followed her and again she marveled at how quiet his footsteps were. It was like he was walking on air. She quickly moved behind the safety of the counter and opened the cash register, trying not to wish that she was short enough for it to hide her face.
"That would be sixteen ninety-nine," she said with what she hoped was a noncringe-worthy smile. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Feeling this flustered this soon was most definitely not ok.
He smiled back tentatively and her heart thumped as he fished the cash out of his pocket. "So are you here part time?"
"Yes," she said, forcing herself to speak slowly and coherently instead of babbling about how she got her job, why she liked it, and if he would be coming back to see her at said job. "I go to Republic City College. This helps me pay for the groceries."
He looked up at her with a bright grin as he dumped the mess of green bills on the counter. "Me too! What's your major?"
"English," she replied as she began to unfold the money with nimble fingers to focus on anything but his cardiac arrest inducing smile. "And you?"
"Media Studies. Acting, directing, and screen writing."
She looked up at him with a new curiosity. "Really? What's it like?"
He leaned forward. "It's fascinating."
She took in a sharp breath at his close proximity. And oh my goodness, his eyes really were gorgeous and oh my goodness could she smell his toothpaste—
"Here's your book!" she cried, shoving the volume into his chest. He stumbled back a bit looking amused and she was sure that she was flushing bright pink.
"Thank you," he replied with a lopsided grin this time. "Hey, do you have a lunch break?"
"Nope," she squeaked. Wait, did she really just turn this beautiful boy down? This beautiful boy she had spent the last ten minutes freaking out over? Was there something wrong with her? No, chided the still rational part of her. This boy was way too handsome and way too scruffy looking to be any good for her. Besides, she had a job and school and practically no time to even keep up with her to-read list so was there really time for this admittedly gorgeous boy to fit in?
He sighed, running fingers through his hair while smiling at her ruefully. "Alrighty then, I'll be heading out."
He turned and was at the door before she finally channeled the strange feeling rising up in her chest into words. "Wait," she cried.
He turned, cocking an eyebrow at her with a hint of a smile. "Yeah?"
"What's your name?" And now she was probably bright red and glowing but something about this boy was magnetic and she needed to know his name. Even if it was only to remember it on other Wednesday afternoons when she was writing another essay at another point in time.
"Kai. Yours?"
"Jinora."
"Jinora," he echoed, as if tasting the sound of it. His grin was back full-force as he said, "I'll be looking out for you, Jinora."
He walked out the door and let it swing shut with the familiar jangling of bells behind him. Jinora pressed her hands to her cheeks as she grinned wildly.