Happy Holidays to you all!
Sending my thanks to Frannie and my prereaders who help keep me in line!
Bella
I stand where I am behind the circulation desk, as still as a statue, until Edward is no longer in my view. He came here over his lunch break, and now that he left to head back to work, he's also left me in a complete state of shock.
I did it. I can't believe I actually did it.
I've given my number to plenty of guys before, but never in a way that has left me feeling like this. I feel completely vulnerable, like I'm serving my heart to him on a platter in front of a food-deprived stomach. I've known the guy for what, a day. And I'm already giving him my number?
I'm totally okay with it.
Even though it goes against all the rules about playing hard to get or remaining aloof when meeting someone new, I feel like I can't ignore this feeling anytime he's around me. It's more than just the way he looks – it's the way he makes me feel with just a look. He listens to my words to hear what I have to say, not just to respond. He smiles like he means it, making me think it's possible that whatever I feel for him, he feels something, too.
It's exciting, this thing happening here. People always tell me I'm one of those people who never worry about anything, that I take life one day at a time and shrug off any problems that come my way. I don't dwell on what I can't change but make the best of what's thrown at me. I always wake up happy and ready to start the day, but I went to bed last night and woke up this morning feeling like I'm on the brink of something big.
Like my life is about to change.
I can't help but wonder if this sudden revelation has anything to do with Edward's appearance in my life.
"You gave it to him?"
Jess slips from behind me and whispers the words into my ear, though they come out louder than she thinks they do. I turn behind me to see that she's moved to my right, standing on tiptoes to see if she can catch a glimpse of Edward's retreating form.
I must have been so caught up in my thoughts that she was able to sneak up behind me completely undetected.
I blame Edward.
Looking over at her, I give her a slow nod, accompanied by wide eyes and a large inhale. "Yeah, on the back of Newton's business card." I think about it for a second, shooting a strange look over in Jess's direction. "Was that weird?"
We all live on our phones these days – wouldn't it have been easier for him to just store it in his phone once I gave him the directions? He could find me online in a matter of minutes if he had the right information.
"This whole situation screams 'weird,'" Jess laughs and makes herself comfortable in one of the chairs we have behind the desk, "but in a good way."
"What do you mean?"
She swivels on the chair so we're face to face, though I remain standing to help anyone who may need it, and she explains further. "It'd be one thing if one of you were being 'weird,' but I mean, he leaves a note for you on the back of a used piece of paper in a library, and you leave yours on the back of a different guy's business card. You're both being weird together," Jess laughs and swivels back in the other direction, shaking her head ruefully as she mulls it over. "Kinda cute, actually."
"Right?" I admit, words and thoughts I want to keep hidden slipping out of my mouth without hesitation. "So cute."
He really is. So much that it hurts. He's cute when he smiles, and his head tilts to the side, and he's hot as fuck when his eyes drift elsewhere when he thinks I'm not looking.
"Are we talking about your Meet-Cute or your guy?"
"Both?" My brain can't settle on either right now as both are quite entertaining. What's not to like about the combination of my two favorite things in the world: hot guys who read? I shake my head and try to bring myself back from this daydream I can't seem to stay away from. "Sorry."
If I'm being honest, I do like the story of how we met – our "Meet Cute," as people call it. I think of yesterday, Edward coming in looking like he took a dip in the ocean in his clothes before coming here, and I can't hide the smile that plays at the corner of my lips.
"What's to be sorry about? Seeing you like this," Jess responds, pointing a finger at me and moving it up and down to take in the pathetic state of swoon I've been in since yesterday afternoon, "is pretty fucking fun." We both laugh because it's true, but she adds, "He seems into you."
That he may be, but there's also a semblance of doubt in my thinking. "He's new in town, and I'm the first girl he saw."
Jess shakes her head in disagreement. "Technically, I'm the first girl he saw," she counters and waves a hand over towards the shelves across the tables in front of us. "You were hiding in the shelves."
He did see Jessica first yesterday, as she was sitting at the front desk in direct contact with the front door.
She continues before I can analyze it any further. "So that means he's choosing to talk to you. He's forced to talk to me when I'm the only one at the desk to check out his books."
I nod, my face scrunching up when I replay the events from yesterday and today over in my mind again, hoping my phone in my pocket vibrates with a message from him already, even though he just left the library.
"Is this crazy? Am I crazy?"
It's one thing to meet a guy – it's something completely different to combine work and pleasure on the same day you meet said guy.
If it were anyone else, I would feel uneasy about a guy knowing where I work right off the bat. Something tells me I have nothing to worry about when it comes to Edward, as crazy as it sounds. I remind myself that I've only known him for maybe twenty-four hours – a little too early to be feeling a connection like this, right?
"You'd be crazy not to see where this goes." Jess interrupts my wandering thoughts. "How often does someone that looks like that walk into our lives?"
A flash of him in his dark jeans convinces me she couldn't be more right. "True story."
She shrugs and gives me an obvious look at how crazy she thinks I am for questioning things between Edward and me. "What's the worst that could happen, a couple of months of sex?" She rolls her eyes and lets out a low whistle. "I'd be on him so fast."
"We know, Jess. I think the whole library knows," Mike says as he joins us, smiling at a patron walking by the desk to show us just how close we are in relation to other people overhearing. His arrival suggests we should continue this conversation elsewhere.
Jess decides speaking in a lower voice is an alternative option to abandoning the conversation altogether.
"Do you really think a guy would come back to the library in the pouring rain for some stupid golf books?" She pops the gum in her mouth as she filters through a book from the Returned Books bin, sending me a brief glance. "Come on."
"Maybe," I offer, ready to pause the conversation for now so I can dissect it in my head a little longer at my own pace.
Analyzing guys? Writing my number down on a piece of paper like a pilgrim? Not something I'm used to doing.
"I give him an hour before he texts you. By the end of the night, tops."
Unlike me, it seems as if Jess isn't ready to end the conversation just yet.
"An hour?" I whisper as two patrons approach the desk. "Aren't there rules these days about how much time has to pass before you can text someone you just met?"
"Weren't you the one who told me it's more fun to break the rules sometimes?"
"Yes, sometimes," I speak the words under my breath around a forced smile for the people in front of me, ready to check out their books. "Not when it comes to me embarrassing myself."
"Trust me," Jess says before getting up from her desk to actually begin working. "An hour."
-m-
I have my phone turned upside down on the counter in my kitchen in hopes it will stop me from checking it again for the millionth time since this afternoon. Staring at an unchanging screen for the past few hours has grown increasingly frustrating, not because I think Edward is blowing me off but because of how much I'm anticipating hearing from him.
It's only a little after six in the evening, and the rational part of me knows he spent the rest of the day busy at work and not dismissing me. But the antsy part of me is currently winning the battle, and the itch I have to flip my phone over to check for a message or a missed call from him is begging to be scratched.
I lean back against the counter, tapping my fingers against the cool marble, contemplating what I can do to take my mind off the fact that the only thing I can think of is Edward. I feel a phantom sound coming from my stomach, reminding me it is, in fact, a good time to eat something. I decide that cooking is a great way to occupy my mind, at least for a little while. Seeing that I'm low on food in the house and a trip to the grocery store is necessary as soon as possible, I settle on making something I can throw together with what little I have. I decide on a grilled cheese with a side of tomato soup, simple and easy but enough to satisfy my stomach and my mind.
While I search the cabinets and refrigerator for what I need to make my dinner, I smile to myself and wonder if my mom is doing the same thing a handful of hours away near Raleigh. The distance between us is kind of perfect – close enough to reach each other in a relatively short amount of time when we want to visit, and just enough space in between for me to feel independent.
Even though I consider Mom one of my best friends and our separation was initially difficult, I enjoy this town and the freedoms that come with it. After graduating from school not too far from here, I fell in love with the ocean and the breeze and the fresh air and couldn't see myself moving further inland back home with my parents. Mom and Dad understood as they were young once too, and instead of pressuring me to stay home, they helped me find my way here to Willow Creek.
It was by pure luck that I had accepted the position at the library at the same time the apartment of my dreams had opened up for rent. Then to find they were within walking distance of each other was the icing on the cake. I live simply, but I live happily, and that's what drives me every day.
The sound of my phone buzzing on the counter next to me as I flip the sandwich from one side to the other on the pan tricks me into thinking my life is about to become exponentially happier.
Placing the spatula on the counter, I reach over towards my phone and turn it over, expecting to see an unknown number staring back at me. Instead, the familiar picture of Mom and me at the beach meets my annoyed eye, and I try to shake away the disappointment in my voice when I see it's still not Edward who is trying to reach me.
"Hey, Mom." I put the phone to my ear and turn back to my grilled cheese. I can hear my mother's music playing behind her over the phone, which confirms my suspicions that she, too, is cooking like I am. She always plays music while she cooks; the combination of her dancing and singing while cooking always making me laugh when I was a kid.
I smile at the sound of her voice.
"Hey, there. What's wrong?"
How does she do that?
" 'What's wrong?' What do you mean?" I ask. I can see her eyes roll at me through the phone.
"I'm your mother; I know when something's wrong."
I sigh, turning away from the stove to lean across the counter on my elbows while my dinner cooks behind me.
"Nothing's wrong," I sigh, not ready to voice my troubles just yet, because I know I'm overreacting to absolutely nothing. I just want him to call me! "I promise. I'm just cooking dinner with the almost zero ingredients I have."
"What'd you end up making?"
"Eh, grilled cheese."
"Tomato soup?"
"You can't have grilled cheese without tomato soup." I scoff at her for even questioning the rationale of having grilled cheese without tomato soup to dip it in. "Come on now."
"You're right. Your father taught you well," Mom teases back, and it already makes me feel better.
"Can't go wrong with it."
"You know ice cream is my go-to when I'm feeling off," Mom offers, and I'm too scattered to avoid the trap she's set, so, unfortunately, I walk right into it.
"Obviously, carbs are mine," I say, thinking of the dinner cooking on the stove. "Shit."
"Caught you," Mom says, successful in her endeavor to get me to open up right now. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"
"Do I have to?" I whine.
"No, of course not." Mom's voice softens. "You should, though. Maybe I can offer you my sage advice and save you all this melodrama."
"Am I really being that melodramatic?"
"I don't think so," Mom chuckles before quieting down. "You just sounded preoccupied, that's all."
"You got that by me saying 'Hey, Mom'?"
"Just the way you said it," she explains. "You'll know when you're a mother."
"I'm fine, though." I sit up from my leaning position on the counter. "Really. Just caught up in my thoughts for a minute, I guess."
"That's unlike you," Mom questions before silence becomes the third person on the call. "There's a guy, isn't there?"
"Wow. I'm impressed, Mom." I laugh but give in to her demands. "I guess you can say that, yes."
"Tell me, Bella. Everything."
I do, and I don't leave anything out. I tell her how we met, how he came in unexpectedly at the library the day before, and how there was this immediate connection, different than what I've ever felt with anyone else. I told her how it seems to be moving fast – so fast that I can't keep up with my own thoughts of how or what I should be feeling. Should I be worried I feel too much too soon? Should I be worried I'm not worried?
Should I be worried that a stranger has managed to almost completely flip my world upside down in less than a day's time?
I probably should worry a little.
Turns out the only thing I have to worry about is my smoke alarm going off when the conversation about Edward makes my mom and me forget I have hot food cooking.
"Keep me updated!" Mom shouts as I hang up the phone, tossing my phone on the counter as the smoke alarm blares in the tiny hallway that separates the kitchen from the living room. Opening a window as I make my way to the smoke detector, I grab the first thing I see to wave the smoke away from the alarm, knowing that any minute now, I'll hear the noise of the fire department in the distance.
Mrs. Cope.
My eighty-five-year-old neighbor downstairs calls the fire department on me every time my smoke alarm goes off. It's happened enough that the fire department knows me by name now, knows they'll just find me in my apartment with a burnt meal as the culprit, and will leave eventually after reiterating to Mrs. Cope that there was once again, no fire.
I send the firehouse a huge batch of homemade Christmas Cookies every year, so it's fine.
Everyone's fine.
And later on, when the firemen have left my apartment to fight actual fires here in Willow Creek, I become the finest of them all when a number I don't recognize lights up the screen of my phone.
Directions were great. I found a set of clubs that are perfect for knocking out my boss.
I know it's him the second his text comes through to my phone, and I save his number just as quickly as I answer him back.
I'm sure your boss will be thrilled. Glad I could help.
He's a fast responder, and I don't mind at all. You've done nothing but help me out the last two days.
We'll find out for sure on Friday at your outing. What time do you start?
I think we have a tee time for 11:02 or something like that.
Right in time for Happy Hour. They have a nice little spot for drinks right at the club for when you're finished.
You've been?
Yeah, but not in a while. We prefer Demetri's. Our favorite bar sits right on the beach overlooking the ocean. We've been going there for years, and they treat us like friends instead of just customers.
We?
Library friends. Every Friday night. Half price apps that are ridiculously good.
Already sounds better than some country club.
I see my opportunity and go for it with a deep breath. It is. You should meet us when you're done.
I sense no hesitation on his part as he responds right away. You're the one with the directional skills. Where would I find it?
-m-
The next two days are torturous and entertaining; a steady flow of messages from Edward helps pass the time between now and Happy Hour on Friday night. Each message brings a smile, a warmth that never fades, a fire that people can only dream about. I go to work like a zombie, having stayed up for hours at night talking to him, every lost moment of sleep worth it when he walks into Demetri's a little after six on Friday night.
He looks completely out of place in a sky blue, Nike collared sports shirt paired with black golfing shorts, but the way I feel when I see him tells me that he's exactly where he belongs.
"You found it," I call over to him once he's spotted me from across the packed bar. We're sitting outside at a high-top table overlooking the beach, the fading sun turning everything around us orange as we place our orders for drinks and appetizers. He smiles and nods his head in our direction once he's seen us, heading over to our table.
We make room for him at the table, and he thanks us for saving him a seat despite the crowd of people.
"Thanks to your directions, once again." He responds, leaning back in his seat like he's happy to finally have a seat after being on his feet all day on the golf course.
"Willow Creek isn't all that complicated," I answer modestly, enjoying the way he's watching me while I lean towards him in conversation.
"Not like D.C., that's for sure."
"Definitely not," I laugh back. "You'll learn to like it."
Jess returns from a trip to the bar, a handful of drinks in her hand, and I scoot closer to Edward, so she has room to put everything down onto our table. My leg brushes against his, and I watch him cast his eyes downwards to take in the smooth skin of my bare legs. My stare waits for him, eventually meeting his own that mimics the heat of the setting sun behind us.
"I think I like it already," he admits, running a hand through his hair and a deep exhale of breath to refocus. "What's not to like?"
"Around here?" Jess plunks herself into our conversation. "Nothing."
"Got some for the table," we hear over our shoulder and see that it's Mike's turn to interrupt us now, carrying another round of appetizers in his hands. "Edward, beer?"
"Yeah, definitely."
Mike calls for our bartender once Edward tells him his beer of choice, and not long after, his beer is brought out to our table. We're regulars around here and receive fast service and generous moods.
"So, how'd today go?" I ask a few minutes later once we're all settled in with our food and drinks, all of us demolishing the round in front of us eagerly after a long week of work for everyone. I look him up and down. "You don't look like a guy who had as horrible a day as he thought it might be."
"Right again," Edward says with his lips around a bottle of beer. "I was worried for nothing."
I shake my head at him regretfully. "I should have bet you on it."
"Probably should have." He nods in agreement but continues. "I actually ended up possibly scoring a huge client out of it; I'll be meeting with them next week to convince them I'm the one they need to design their website. Kind of a big deal, being the new guy."
"This day was definitely not what you expected, was it?"
"Not all of it," he answers, but then tilts his head to the side the way I've been thinking about. "Some parts I knew what to expect."
I'm glad one of us does because I can feel my self-control slip away with each passing minute. The ease of our previous conversations in the library is continuing tonight here at the bar. We go back and forth for what feels like hours, filling in gaps about each other we haven't uncovered yet.
Maybe he's right, in a way. Maybe I did expect that seeing him tonight would make me dizzy with want. Maybe I knew, expected that our meeting tonight would be the catalyst to something beautiful.
"Shots!"
We force ourselves to break away from our words, looking at the round of glasses in front of us on the table. Mike hands one over to Edward, and he takes it without question.
"It's tradition, Edward. New man makes the toast."
I always wanted a group of friends like these, a group that would welcome someone like Edward as one of their own.
"Hmm, okay." Edward looks over at all of us, eyes landing and settling on me last. He raises his glass into the moonlight. "To what to expect."
No one knows what he's talking about, besides me, but it doesn't stop them from clinking their glasses and downing the liquid in one gulp.
I know in that minute that expected or not; this is something different.
Something is definitely happening between them. That connection between them will only deepen. Next up, Mary. She's been waiting patiently for her turn.
If you're not already, hop on over and read the holiday edition sequel to one of my other stories, Pursuing the Proposition. The sequel, Pursuing the Proposal, is a nine chapter sequel that will be ending on January 2nd (I think). I post one chapter a day between Christmas Day and what was looking to be New Year's Day, but naturally I had to add an extra chapter.
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