NOTE: Keep in mind that this is still a first draft, so… yeah.
…
CHAPTER 1
When the first raindrop falls on Yang-right on her eyebrow-she pays it no mind. She's too busy navigating through the city's morning rush. Men wearing suits, groups of children, women wearing suits; every type of person you could imagine are here.
The second raindrop-falling on her shoulder-goes ignore too.
So does the third raindrop.
The fourth can't be ignored, because it falls with a faint splat on Yang's nose, startling her into stopping. "What the…?" she murmurs, wiping the wetness with the back of her hand. She glances up. The sky above is riddled with clouded and grey, threatening to give the city more than a few measly drops. Shit, Yang thinks, dread pooling in her stomach as she grips the sling of her bag. Should've brought an umbrella. Or worn something other than a crop top, at least.
She walks again. But her walk turns into a half-jog as the sky rumbles. The dread within her grows as the rain falls with a hiss. The morning rush turns rushier as everyone's priority shifts from "getting to my destination before I'm late" to "getting to my destination before I'm drenched."
Yang has no particular destination she'd like to be in. Sure, going home after school would be nice, but it's not mandatory. Instead, as she sprints, using her bag as a shield against the rain, she scans the building next to her. Most are closed, since it is the morning. A few looks like it needs her to have a clearance pass to get in. Then, she glimpses at a large window, showing rows and rows of books inside.
A library, she thinks, heading straight for it. Perfect.
The door creaks when she opens it. The floor thuds against her sneakers as she steps on it, the wetness from her body spreading all over it. Yang winces. Hope the librarian won't mind the mess too much. Then again, I can always say I'm here to borrow something.
Though, she's not the type who likes to borrow books. Or the type who likes books in general. How light her backpack is proves that.
On her quest to find a chair to sit down and wait out the rain, Yang discovers that there are no chairs. Nor tables. What kind of a library is this? she asks herself.
She peers at one of the bookshelves, glancing through the titles. Something-something friends and influencing them. Something-something mindset. Her hand hovers up at one of the books, but lowers again when a thin drop of rainwater drips down from her fingertip.
She may not care about reading, but that doesn't mean she enjoys damaging them.
"Can I help you?" a voice asks from behind her. Yang jumps, and spins on her heels.
A girl stands, one hand on her hip, the other holding a book. Straight, black hair. Sharp features. A smoothness to the way she carries herself.
Yang's throat dries. "Uh, what?"
The girl's face remains blank. "I asked if I could help you. To find whichever book you want."
Yang's first thought is: Right now, books are the last thing I want.
Her second thought is: Oh, this isn't a library, it's a bookstore! That explains why there's no chairs!
"Well?" the girl asks, raising a too-perfect eyebrow.
"Um, well, I-" Yang stutters herself into a pause, then scrapes her hair with her hand. "I sorta, maybe, uh-" She's here to wait out the rain, but telling this girl so doesn't seem nice. Yang wants to impress this girl. So, she asks herself, what would impress a pretty girl who works at a bookstore? Her eyes glance down at the book in the girl's hand. The cover's worn-out, and the pages are yellowed. That's it, I've got it! "A book."
The girl gives her a WTF? look. "Yes, but what kind of book? Fiction, non-fiction?"
"Fiction," Yang says, more of a question than a statement.
The girl nods. "What kind? Horror, sci-fi, fantasy?"
Well, Yang thinks, horror makes me look like a goth nobody who probably has pentagrams in her room, and sci-fi is too geeky and nerdy, which leaves… "Fantasy."
Yang thinks this is the end of her interrogation. She is wrong to think so.
The girl's eyes widen, and her hand sways, pulling the book closer to her. "Fantasy's a wide genre. Are you more of an epic fantasy? A dark fantasy, maybe? Urban?"
Yang swallows. Since when has fantasy become this complicated? she wonders. Isn't it basically just dragons and sword fighting and magic? "Anything, really," she says with a shrug. "Anything that people like."
The girl's face turns impassive again. "Oh," she says, "I see." She turns around, and walks, stopping to look over her shoulder. "Aren't you coming?"
"R-right," Yang replies, her cheeks warming as she follows.
The girl navigates through this maze of a store with ease, giving Yang a better understanding of its interior. It has an ancient aura to it, with everything made out of wood. If this girl didn't intimidate her so much, Yang would pull out her phone to take a selfie.
They arrive near the check-out counter, where there is a water bottle and a stack of books Yang suspects doesn't belong to the library.
The girl bends down to one of the lower shelves, and pulls out a book with a cover of a girl wielding two swords. Throne of Glass, the title says. The girl hands it over to Yang, and Yang inspects it better. At least it looks badass.
"Will that be all?" the girl asks.
Actually, no, Yang wants to say. I came here to take shelter from the rain, but now I sorta wanna ask you out. "Gimme a minute, yeah?" she says instead with a quirk of her lips. "I want to, uh, explore it better." She gestures to the rest of the bookstore, hoping her face looks curious.
The girl, for her part, nods and returns to her counter, burying herself in the book she's been carrying.
Yang disappears in one of the shelves, away from the girl's peripheral vision. She releases a huff of breath, her composure leaving her as she presses her hand to her face.
Oh, wow, she thinks, that girl is so hot.
"Hot" is understating it. It's in the slant of her eyes, the angle of her jaw, the smoothness of her cheekbone, the jut of her chin.
Yang has never been flustered this badly before. When she finds a girl with an appealing face, she has no problem walking up to her and telling her, "Hey, wanna kiss?"
I'm caught off-guard, she reasons, staring past the window at the rain outside. It's not pouring anymore. I mean, who the hell expects to find a super hot girl in a bookstore, of all places?!
"Whatever," she mutters to herself, squaring her shoulders and tilting her chin up. She tells herself, Yang Xiao Long has never been afraid of asking anyone out, and she won't start now.
And so, she marches towards the counter. The girl, seeing her, bookmarks her page with something small and black, closes it, and sits up straight. "Did you find any more good books?" she asks, a small smile on her perfect pair of lips.
Actually, no, I don't care about books, no offense, Yang wants to say. And also, would you like to go out on a date with me?
Instead, what comes out of her mouth is, "Maybe." The girl blinks at her, and Yang tugs the collar of her shirt. "It's just-I wanna focus on this one book, is all." Since when do you focus on any books?! Yang's logic asks her. Ignoring the question, she smiles and gives the girl a one-shouldered shrug, chuckling. "You probably understand, right?"
The girl chuckles back. "Oh, trust me," she says, eyeing her stack of books, "I understand."
A name, Yang says to herself. At least ask what her name is.
"Well, here ya go, then," Yang says, giving the girl her book to check out. After they make their exchange, the girl gives back the book-which has now become Yang's book-and without thinking, Yang grins and says, "Thanks, beautiful."
The girl's mouth opens, her eyebrows rising.
Oh God, Yang thinks, rushing to the exit door as her face burns white-hot. I will never, ever come back to that library ever again.
#
Yang returns to the house drenched, holding a plastic bag with a book she will never read. Her brain tortures her by repeating the events-her stuttering, her flushing, her uncalled-for compliment. Her suffering must be as obvious as a neon sign, because her family gives her weird looks throughout dinner.
She returns to her room and falls down face-first onto her bed, her face buried in her pillow. She releases a muffled wail similar to that of a dying, obese hyena. All you have to do is tell her if she wants to go grab a cup of coffee. That's literally it!
But there's something about the girl, something about how easily she navigates through the place. She doesn't just work there; that store is special to her. Books are special to her.
It boggles Yang.
She's used to sitting in her classroom for decade-long minutes, scrunching her eyebrows and thinning her lips in faux concentration as she stares down the page, waiting for the words to interest her. They never do. Her English teacher, Mister Port, has an uncanny sixth sense that allows him to know whether a student has read To Kill A Mockingbird from chapter one to three, or if he hasn't.
No matter how much effort she puts into bullshitting her essay, Mister Port keeps giving her disappointed looks after he grades it.
The idea of someone not only willing to spend their free time sitting still and making sense of so many words, but enjoying it-it sends an unpleasant shiver down her spine.
And yet that (hot, super hot, incredibly mega hot) girl does it.
Yang pushes herself up and glares at the book she bought, tossed on her desk, still inside the plastic bag. What's so special about you anyway? she asks, not only to that specific book, but to all books in general. What can you offer that movies and TV shows can't?
Out of spite, she grabs it from the bag, tears open the wrapping, goes back to her bed, and reads it. And then keeps reading it.
Before she knows it, it's morning, she's finished it, and she has things to say.
Lots of things.
CHAPTER 2
In the back of Yang's mind, logic screams at her, telling her how bad of an idea this is. Yang refuses to listen, dressing herself up to go out despite it being a morning weekend-AKA, a time for any rational high schooler to sleep in.
But her brain is on fire. It's been on fire ever since she finished that book. If she doesn't do this, the fire will consume her, robbing her of her sanity.
She finishes getting dressed, then winces at how horrible her hair looks. She forgot to take a shower or comb through it yesterday, and now it's stiff, her curls sticking to each other. She wishes she can remedy it now, but pulling her hair into a ponytail will have to do.
When the bookstore is in her sight, her steps falter. It's so early. Will that girl even be there? What if someone else is working today? She'll have gone up here for nothing.
Well, she muses, looking at the fast food restaurant on the other side of the street. I can always get me a burger, if that happens.
Swiping her hand through her tied hair, she walks inside. Marches right up to the counter, where the girl blinks up with a surprise, straightening her seating position. Slams the book on the wooden surface. "What the hell kind of book did you just give me?"
The girl glances at the book. "I'm sorry?"
"This book. The book I bought."
"Yes?"
"The book you made me buy." Yang narrows her eyes. "It's shit."
The girl cocks her head. "I don't recall making you buy anything," she says. Her eyes drift down back to the book, and she purses her lips. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why is it…" She looks up at Yang again, a strand of her dark hair curling around her jaw. "Why don't you like it?"
And so Yang explodes in a rant, beginning with the love triangle-"just pick a side already, woman!"-to the so-called tournament-"I expected it to be, you know, important, but the book barely even covers it!"-ending on the biggest part that irks her. "You mean to tell me that this bitch, who's supposed to be the deadliest assassin in the whole world, had to lie down for a day because of her damn period?!"
The girl smirks. "To be fair, periods can be painful-"
"Oh, I know that," Yang says, rolling her eyes. She leans over the counter, propping her crossed arms on it. "But if I could survive PE on my first day, then she, the most dangerous person ever, should do more than just whine and lay around in bed and…" Yang trails off. How long has she been talking? More important than that, how long has the girl been sitting there, indulging Yang's-a stranger's-weird behaviour? "I'm being weird, aren't I?"
"What? No!" the girl says, louder than Yang expected. She blinks, the apple of her cheeks tinting a faint pink. "No, it's-you're fine. It's fine. Better than fine, really."
Yang chews on her bottom lip. Whether or not that's true, Yang can't be the only one talking. That wouldn't be fair. She taps the book's cover with her fingernail. "Well, what do you think of it?"
The girl tips her chin up to look at it, humming. "I read it over a year ago, so-" a light frown creases the space between her eyebrows "-I don't remember much of the details, but…" Her eyes meet Yang's, full of delight. "Well, what you said about covers it. Even if I wouldn't use such… colorful words."
It makes her wonder if all books are like this. Surely not, right? If so, then why does this girl read so much? Her eyes glance down at the book nearest the girl-the book she must've been reading before Yang showed up-and she points at it. "What about that one?"
"Huh?"
"Is that one good?" The girl looks like she enjoys it. Why else would it look so worn?
The girl grabs it, and shows the cover to Yang. Crooked Kingdom, it says. "This?" she asks. Yang nods. "Well, this is a sequel."
"Oh." Yang's hands fidget. "I want the first book, then."
The girl blinks. "Really?"
Yang nods, then gestures back to the bookstore. "I mean, it's gotta be here, right? This place is, like, super huge."
That draws a light chuckle out of the girl's throat. A chuckle that reminds Yang that she does, in fact, still have a crush on this girl. And that she hasn't, in fact, asked her out yet.
With ease Yang still can't comprehend, the girl leads them to the same shelf as before-only this time, she pulls out a different book. Six of Crows, it says. "The cover looks cool," Yang mutters, turning it around to inspect it better. She stops, and meets Blake's eyes as heat pools in her cheeks. "Not that I judge books by their covers." She laughs a laugh she hopes doesn't sound awkward.
The girl, for her part, smiles. "Will that be all?" she asks.
"Oh." Yang looks down at the book, gripping it tighter. "I guess?"
And so, they make a transaction, and Yang now has a new book. As she moves to leave, the girl says, "Blake."
Yang stops in her tracks, turning around again. "Huh?"
"My name," the girl explains. "It's Blake."
Yang's heart summersaults. A pretty name for a pretty girl. "Mine's Yang," she says with a grin. She walks back, wishing to memorise the curve of the girl's-Blake's-smile, the shade of her hair with the sunlight painting over it, the sharpness of her chin. "So, uh, I guess I better-oomph!"
Her back throbs as it hits a shelf. Blake lets out a startled laugh, and Yang laughs as well, despite the heat spreading throughout her face. Quit embarrassing yourself and leave already! her logic tells her.
For once, Yang listens to the advice.
#
As soon as Yang heads home, she locks herself in her room and gets to reading. A part of her laughs at the absurdity. Since when do you read for pleasure? it asks. The truth is, she doesn't know. But there was a glint in Blake's eyes when Yang asked about her book. And Yang wanted to find out how that glint got there in the first place. If that means spending her weekend alone in her room finishing a book, then so be it.
Three pages in, and her phone buzzes. Yang's eye twitches. It buzzes again, then again. She memorises the page, closes it, then checks her phone. It's a message from one of her friends, asking her when she'll leave for the party.
Oh, she thinks. That's right. Tonight's the night her friend is hosting a party in his house, due to the absence of his parents.
Yang chews the bottom of her lip. She glances at the book. She texts her friend back, saying she's not sure when she'll leave yet, then goes back to reading.
It's nothing like the books she's forced to read at school. Because this time, she's doing it because she wants to, and doing it to understand Blake better. Blake loves this story, and the more Yang reads it, the more she understands why.
Before she knows it, her phone is buzzing with text messages; her friend asking her where she is, because the party's already started.
Again, Yang's eyes drift back to her book. She's already halfway through it. Might as well finish it, right?
So, through text, she tells her friend she's sorry, and she can't make it to the party because she's sick.
This time, however, Yang forces herself to sleep, ripping a piece of paper from her textbook to use as a bookmark. She wants her head to be clear while reading this book. And a lack of sleep does not make her mind clear.
Her dream is of her in the strange world of the book, with her and Blake on a small boat surrounded with mist. "I think I'm starting to get you," Yang says to her.
Blake smiles, says nothing, and Yang wakes up with a smile.
CHAPTER 3
When Blake sees her again, a big grin splits her face. She schools it into a smaller, more composed smile, but the excitement in her eyes stays.
"You know," Yang says, not bothering to control her own grin, "I keep thinking I'd run into someone other than you, but that never happens."
Blake shrugs, beckoning Yang over the counter. Yang blinks, and does as she's told. On the other side of the counter, an empty seat is waiting for her. An empty seat Yang knows wasn't there yesterday. Her heart stutters. Did she get me a seat? she wonders. I mean, I'm fine with standing while talking, but this is thoughtful.
Yang slumps into her seat, placing her book on her thighs. "Not that I'm complaining, of course," she adds. "I don't know what I'd do if I walked into this bookstore and found, like, hipster dude with a wicked goatee manning the place."
Blake smiles. "Yes, well, I work here full-time."
That causes Yang to sit up straighter, facing her better. "Wait, really?" She assumed Blake was around her age, and is still in high school. What if Blake's an adult who happens to have a young (and hot and beautiful and magnificent) face.
Blake, however, explains that she graduated early-which is no surprise-and is taking a gap year to figure out which college she wants to go to, and which major she'd like to choose. To occupy her time, she works in this bookstore, which belongs to a family friend.
"I used to come here every day when I was little," she says, her voice growing softer, almost as soft as a whisper. Her eyes trail through the ceilings, the shelves. Yang follows her gaze, imagining Little Blake with her curious eyes exploring this big maze. Her heart swells. Blake chuckles, rubbing her neck. "I know it must sound weird to you-"
"Weird? No, not at all." If anything, it intensifies Yang's fascination with her. Yang wants to understand there is to understand about her. That is weird, considering they've only known each other for what? Three days? Yang has had crushes before, but never like this. Never in a knee-wobbling, heart-twisting, blush-inducing way. "You're… awesome, Blake," Yang says. "I mean, I don't know you that well, but I can already tell." Blake smiles-apprehensive, small, but real. Yang brings up her book, facing the cover in Blake's direction. "So! Thoughts?"
Blake starts off timid, pausing mid-sentence to rearrange her words. But the more she speaks, the more she shines. She begins by pointing out the flaw-"yes, I'll admit, the first half of the book is slow"-then she moves onto defending it-"but I think it's needed, to set up the characters, to truly show who they are and why they're the way they are"-then, at long last, gushes about why she loves it-"three different types of romance, all of them different, and all of them mattering to the plot!"-and which part she loves most. "How they all work together in the end, despite still hating each other. It's so beautiful."
"Not to mention the heist!" Yang adds. "Oh man, the heist! I mean, I don't really get it, but damn."
Blake grins. "Nobody does."
In the middle of discussing the magical elements of the book, someone walks into the store, causing them to stop. Blake walks towards the potential customer-a middle-aged man with glasses-and assists him with a cool professionalism. He leaves without buying anything, and Blake explains that he's mistaken this bookstore for a music store, which draws a snort from Yang.
Yang glances at the time on her phone, and winces. "Wow, I can't believe it's been three hours."
"Wait, really?" Yang shows her the time, and Blake blinks. "Huh."
"I guess time flies by fast when you're having fun," Yang says, chuckling.
Blake doesn't chuckle, but she does smile. "Yes. It does."
#
Yang buys the sequel, and devours it in one sitting. The next day, she tells Blake how much she loves it, which Blake agrees. "I actually prefer this over the first one," she says, off-handedly.
Blake frowns. "Really? I actually think the first one is the best."
They discuss the pros and cons of each book. Blake mentions how the first one delves deep into the characters. Yang argues that the second one is more awesome, because it has more action.
"Action doesn't always equal a good book," Blake says.
"Yeah-" Yang nods, then grins "-but it sure as hell makes it more fun."
Blake huffs a breath, shakes her head, but says nothing.
The next book Blake recommends to her is another fantasy book; Wheel of Time. And Yang, well, she hates reading it. It reminds her of the books she's forced to read at school. A sinking feeling grows in her stomach. She tries to plunge through it, but her efforts are in vain. In the end, she goes out with her friends, abandoning the book.
When she comes back to the bookstore, she does so by dragging her heels instead of marching like usual. Blake's eyes shine when she spots her, and the guilt in Yang's stomach flares up.
"So?" "Tell me it's not amazing."
"It's… not amazing?" "I actually sort of don't like it?"
"Oh."
"Sorry. I knew how excited you were for me to-"
"It's fine. We won't always like and hate the same things. We're different people, after all." "Why didn't you like it?"
"Well, I guess it's just how boring the descriptions are? Like, the guy spends, like, two pages describing the mountains. And yes, it's beautiful, I get it, you don't have to keep explaining."
"Well, Robert Jordan does love his mountains."
"What's it about, though? The story, I mean?"
Blake tells her, in a simplified, and easy-to-digest form. She's a good storyteller. A great one, in fact. Or maybe Yang's biased because she likes hearing Blake's voice and looking at her pretty face. STUFF.
Then, when Yang leaves, Blake grabs the hem of her shirt. "Wait."
Yang looks back at her, and finds a faint pink tinting her cheeks. "I wanted to give you something." She opens up a drawer from the counter, and pulls out a small and black leather, square-ish in shape. Yang has seen this before. "Here." She extends it to Yang. "It's a bookmark."
Yang takes it. On the leather, there is a small carving of a lantern. "This is beautiful," she says. "Thank you, Blake."
Blake smiles. "My pleasure."
Yang twists the small thing between her fingers. "Wait a minute." She frowns, looks up at Blake. "Isn't this yours?"
Blake blinks, and the pink in her cheeks spreads. "I… got you another one."
A dopey grin blossoms in Yang's face as she covers the bookmark in her hand. "I guess that makes us bookmark buddies."
Blake chuckles. "That's one way to put it."
#
That night, on her bed, Yang keeps looking at the leathery, tiny thing. Matching bookmarks, she thinks. How cool is that?
The door opens to reveal her sister. "Yang, I-" Her gaze trails to Yang's desk. "Uh, what is that?"
Yang pushes herself up with her elbows, putting her bookmark on her nightstand. "What is what?"
"Why is your desk covered with books?"
Yang frowns. "My desk is always covered with books."
"Yes, but not story books." Her sister narrows her eyes, her hand on her hip. "Is this some sort of, like, dare you and your friends are doing?"
"Uh, no."
Her sister blinks. Blinks again. "Well okay then," she says, closing the door. After a few beats, she opens it again and pokes her head inside. "By the way, dinner's in five."
Then, she's gone, leaving Yang alone again to gush about her new bookmark. What it means. For her, for Blake. For them. For the future.
She may or may not release a girly squeal which she muffles with her pillow. It's up for debate.
God, she thinks, clutching the bookmark to her chest, I am so head over heels.
CHAPTER 4
Parties used to be fun for her. She'd dance and flirt and laugh.
It still is fun for her, but… "What do you mean you're leaving!?" her friend asks, gaping at her. She glances at the time on her phone. "It's not even midnight yet!"
Yang glances at her own phone. She winces. It may not be midnight yet, but it might as well be. "Sorry, but I really gotta get going. Curfew and stuff, you know?"
Yang's friend pouts. "Since when have you ever let that stop you?"
It never did, and it never will, but Yang needs an excuse. Something better than, "I need to finish the ending of Illuminae."
"C'mon, Yang," her friend says, pouting. "Just stay here. At least for a couple more minutes."
Well, she thinks, sighing with resignation. A couple more minutes won't hurt.
So, she mingles, and she smirks, and she makes jokes. Yet all the while, she itches to be curled up in her bed, surrounded with her blankets, a book balanced on her thighs.
Then, as she scans the room, she finds someone wearing an orange shirt that says, "CHB."
She taps her friend's shoulder to get her attention, then points to the person. "Who's that?"
"Oh, him? That's Jaune," her friend says. "He's sort of a nerd, but he's been helping me out with my math homework, so." She shrugs. "I feel kinda bad, you know?"
The boy-Jaune-doesn't look like he's fitting in at all. He's leaning against the wall, one hand gripping the red cup too tight, the other scrolling through his phone. Every once in a while, he'd glance up, look around, then return his attention to his phone.
Yang walks up to him, ignoring her friend's questions. "Hey," she says. He jumps, the water in his cup sloshing. Yang finger guns him. "Camp half-blood, right?"
Jaune's eyes brighten. "You like Percy Jackson too?!"
Does she enjoy the books? Yes. Is she so obsessed with it she's willing to buy a t-shirt? Nope. But Jaune doesn't need to know that. And so they explode into a discussion about the books-ranging from the worldbuilding, the action, and the romance. In the end, she stays past midnight, not because she's partying as usual, but because she's arguing with Jaune about the books, and whether it's a good idea to make a brand-new series using the characters from the previous books.
In the end, her friend has to drag her away and tell her her dad might get mad at her. Chuckling, she whistles and says, "Wow, I've never seen Jaune that animated before. What'd you say to him?"
Yang winks. "A magician never reveals her secrets."
#
Yang and Blake unintentionally develop a routine; Blake recommends Yang a book, Yang buys that book and reads it, then, after she finishes it, she discusses it with Blake. It's like a private bookclub. The shop is most empty in the evening, so that's when Yang goes in.
It's a hit or miss, at the beginning. Blake recommended Yang a book made a decade ago, To The Lighthouse, and Yang had a hard time reading it. The same goes for poetry books. "I just-I just don't get metaphors," Yang said. "Like, if you wanna say you're in love, just say you're in love! Don't go out of your way comparing yourself to-to trees or the river or whatever!"
Blake threw her head back as she laughed, her shoulders shaking. It was high-pitched, and it ended with a snort, and Yang's heart did a cartwheel. Alright, she admitted to herself. Maybe it's not that easy to say you're in love.
Yang may finish one to two books per week, but Blake has been a literature lover since she was a kid. She can read anything and everything, and understand exactly what each aspect means. She's better at that-picking apart certain details when it comes to description-"see, on page seventeen, the sword's described as rusted, which, I think, is supposed to represent the character himself, and how inexperienced he is"-and dialogue-"he stuttered, right then, which shows that he's lying"-and even the authors themselves.
Yang, however, is better at ranting. When she comes across a bad book, she can go all night. "Like, really? She's secretly the bad guy's daughter? How cliche can you get? And on top of that, her love interest just so happens to be a prince too?! Ugh!"
The more Yang reads, the more she discovers how different her taste is compared to Blake. Yang prefers books with loads of action, which is why she likes Steelheart and Hunger Games. Blake, however, leans more onto books that delve deep into characters, like Catching Fire, and any of Rainbow Rowell's works.
They can, however, both agree that Red Queen is a huge disappointment.
After finishing the cute and fluffy stand-alone book Sorcery of Thorns, Yang tells Blake, "You know, I'm getting pretty tired of all of this high, epic fantasy stuff. Do you know any books that are, like… nice and short? Like, something that doesn't have to make me think?"
Blake hums, leaning back on her seat. "Nice and short, huh?" She cocks her head to the side, a thin strand of her hair falling to her eye. Yang's hand twitches with the urge to brush it away. "I… think I might have something."
"Yeah?"
A faint, glowing pink spreads throughout Blake's face. "But it's sort of, um…"
"Sort of what?" Blake meets Yang's eyes, and her blush darkens. "Hey, Blake, it's alright." Yang leans forward and grabs Blake's hands, cupping them on her own. "You know I'll love anything you give me, right?" She chuckles. "Well, not really, but still. I wanna read everything you've read."
Blake blinks at her, her eyes widening. Shit, Yang thinks. Does that sound creepy? Is she weirded out? Then, a small smile blooms in Blake's face, one that crinkles her eyes.
"Alright, then," she says, leading them away from the counter, and into the depths of the bookstore. Yang doesn't understand every nook and cranny of this place, but she's beginning to. She's not sure she'll be as accustomed to this place as Blake, though. Blake pulls out a thin book and gives it to Yang. "Here."
Yang accepts it, reading the title aloud; "We Are Okay. Well, this seems… okay."
Blake chuckles. "It's more than okay. Maybe a little depressing, but…"
"I'll read it," Yang says, meaning it.
Blake smiles. "I know."
#
If Blake considers this book to be a little depressing, then Yang shudders to think what she considers to be really depressing.
She finishes it all in one-sitting, and catches something. Something strange, something unique. Something that fastens her heartbeat.
The main character used to have a romantic relationship with her best friend, who is also a girl. Yang thinks back to Blake's mannerism when talking about this book, and she frowns. Is she… hinting at something?
Yang might not be able to stop her heart from reacting the way it does when she's near Blake, but she can control the way she acts. If she were being honest, the thought of asking Blake out has long since faded away from her mind. She enjoys Blake's company too much, and doesn't want to screw things up. She's fine with her crush being one-sided, because, well, Blake is Blake.
But now, she has to wonder; is this Blake's way of asking me if I'm into girls?
Well. Only one way to find out.
When Yang meets Blake again, she tells Blake she likes the book despite the lack of action, and lets Blake flow into an explanation pinpointing which part makes it good. When Blake's done, Yang says, with faux off-handedness, "It's such a shame that the main character didn't end up with her best friend again. They have such good chemistry."
A glimmer shines in Blake's eyes. "Yeah?" she says. She doesn't sound curious, but she does look curious. "I think so too."
Yang smiles. Is this happening? she thinks, not knowing what "this" is.
"Cool," she says.
CHAPTER 5
The next book Blake recommends her throws subtlety out of the window; One Last Stop. It's creative, it's fluffy, and it can be raunchy too.
This is it! she tells herself. This is your cue! Now ask her out already!
But when the time comes, Yang keeps asking if Blake has any more recommendations, and not whether she'd like to go get some coffee.
Yang Xiao Long, she tells herself, leaving the bookstore with a brand new book and no coffee-related promise, you are hopeless.
#
At school, Mister Port scans the class with his squinted eyes and his bushy moustache. "Alright," he says, leaning forward in his seat, "I can see that you're not in the mood for any serious learning this week."
Yang blinks. It is true that this school-week has been heftier than usual. She herself has gone to no parties, and finished no books. She glances around with her students, and shares a noncommittal nod.
"That's why, this week, I'm going to go easy on you." The air in the room changes. "That's why, for this class session, your job is to write an essay about a book that you've read."
That's it? Yang thinks. That easy? The rest of her class doesn't share her opinion, based on their paling faces. This'll be a piece of cake! Which book do I write about, though?
Should she write an exploratitative book, like Patrick Ness' Chaos Walking trilogy? Or maybe something that touches on racial issues, like Nicola Yoon's The Sun is Also A Star?
Then, an invisible light bulb shines above her head.
Well, she thinks, as excitement bubbles inside of her, Mister Port never said it had to be an essay about a book that I liked, right?
Besides, talking about why a book is good has always been more of Blake's thing. Now, roasting a book, on the other hand-that, she is a pro at.
And so, Yang completes a five-page essay about why Dare Me is trash. As soon as she hands it over to Mister Port, her confidence shatters. It has, after all, only been thirty minutes. And she's only skimmed through it for mistakes. And she's pretty sure she misspelled "conduit." Her knees wobble as she sits back down, her chest heavy and her hands cold.
"Psst! Yang!"
She glances to her side. She knows him, even if she doesn't know his name. "What?" she asks.
"Did you know he was gonna do this?"
"What?"
"This essay thing," he explains. "Did you, like, memorise it or something? Or is there, like, a note in there somewhere?" He peeks at her table, then underneath it.
"Dude, no," she says. "I just wrote what came to my mind."
"Seriously?"
"Yeah?"
He gives her a strange look, then returns his attention to his own paper, which is painfully blank.
Even when time's up, people are reluctant to stand from their seats and give their papers for Mister Port to look at. Even though Mister Port himself tells them, "I don't expect anything but the truth from all of you."
Afterwards, Mister Port tells her to stay after class, and Yang winces. Knew I mispronounced "conduit." And probably a bunch of other words too.
Her shoes squeak against the tiled floor as she faces Mister Port. He's reading-judging-her paper, and the longer the silence stretches, the tighter her grip on the strap of her bag is.
Then, he puts her paper down, and meets her eyes. "I have to say, Miss Xiao Long, I did not expect this from you at all."
"Yeah, I know, sir, I-" I got too excited. I forgot I was writing this for a teacher and not my crush. She looks down. "I'm sorry."
"Sorry? What for?" She looks up. Mister Port's moustache twitches. "Miss Xiao Long, this is quite a tasteful essay. Does it go on for too long? Yes. Does it use informal English? Oh, absolutely. But you expressed your thoughts, and that was all I asked of you." He pats on the stack of papers-the result of other student's works. "The rest, well, as proper as they are, I can tell they just chose a book title that came to mind and pretended they've read it." He smiles. "Great work, Miss Xiao Long. You may leave now." Yang nods dumbly, then walks toward the exit door. She grips the door handle when he says, "Oh, and one last thing."
She looks back at him. "Yeah?"
He raises his eyebrow. "Conduit has no e."
#
Yang tells Blake everything save for the whole "conduit" thing. "It was so great, Blake! Like, Mister Port was always just looking at me weird, but now-" She laughs, leaning back into her chair. "Now, he's all like, 'My God, Yang, you're, like, the best thing ever!'"
So maybe she may have exaggerated some of the details. What does it matter?
Blake is smiling and beaming like she always is when Yang's talking, and warmth spreads around Yang's heart, spreading throughout her whole body, giving her an almost drunken-like giddiness.
Yang doesn't think; she acts.
"So, Blake," she says. "There's this new café that just opened up, and I was wondering-why don't we meet up there?" It startles Blake, and seeing Blake startled startles her. The giddiness flushes away from her. "I-I mean, if you want to, that is," she says, rubbing the back of her head. "I know that you're, like, super busy 24/7 taking care of your bookstore-" She winces. "Not saying that this is your bookstore, but, you know-" She chuckles, tilts her head. "It might as well be, at this point, right?"
Blake is giving her that fond look again, the same sort of look she's always given Yang when Yang tries and fails to sort her thoughts together over an amazing book. "A café, huh?"
"Yeah," Yang says, her voice too high-pitched. "If you wanna." She swallows, tugs the collar of her shirt. "Do you… wanna?"
Blake grins, her eyes crinkling. "What do you think?"
"… uh, yes?"
Blake's grin spreads, and she pokes Yang's shoulder. "Yes, Yang. I do want to go."
#
Here they are, in a newly-built cafe-espresso for Yang, chamomile for Blake.
C'mon, Yang, she tells herself. Tell her you like her! Do it now!
She takes a sip of the too-hot coffee, burning her tongue. She winces, and Blake gives her a concerned look. "Nothing, nothing," she says. "It's just-too hot, you know?" Sort of like you, she adds inside her head.
Blake nods, then takes a sip of her own drink, the light steam softening her face.
She really is beautiful, Yang thinks. But it's not just that. It's the ease in which she talks about the books she likes, and the passionate glint in her eyes she can never contain. It's in the way those same eyes narrow when Yang speaks about her own book-related experiences, full of so much attentiveness it overwhelms her.
Blake is a waterfall, she is an old photograph, she is a cold milk on a hot day.
Yang worries her bottom lip, her fingernails drumming against the ceramic of her cup.
"Yang?" Blake asks, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "Can I tell you something?"
Yang lowers her cup. "What is it, Blake?"
Blake's staring into her brown-tinted reflection from her tea, a light frown creasing the space between her eyebrows. "When I first saw you, I…" She looks up at Yang, and shrugs with one shoulder. "I didn't think you would actually buy anything," she says. "I thought you were just someone looking for shelter from the rain, and-"
"I was!" Yang says. Logic is telling her to shut up, to let Blake speak, but her heart is telling her she needs to tell the truth. "Blake, I was. I didn't even realise it was a bookstore, at first." Blake blinks, and Yang winces, running a hand through her hair. "Look, before I saw you, I… didn't care about books. Like, at all. I used to hate it when teachers made me read books." She meets Blake's eyes, and smiles. "Then, there was you. And you-you loved books so, so much. I could tell even back then, and I was like, 'Why does she love books so much? What's so great about them?' So, I… I guess I tried to find out. And I-" her smile widens "-I did find out."
"Yang…"
Yang leans forward, grabs Blake's hands, cupping them in her own hands. "I… I have been wanting to ask you out since, well, since the beginning, and… I…" She trails off at the look on Blake's face. Her grip on Blake's hand loosens.
Blake's hands break free from Yang's grip, only to be the one cupping Yang's own hands. "Why haven't you, then?"
That's your cue, Yang tells herself. She's practically asking for it, so just do it!
Yang's glad she's sitting down. If she were standing up, she's not sure her knees would be able to support her weight.
Blake squeezes Yang's hands.
Yang swallows. "Blake, uh… Do you… Would you like to…" She takes a deep breath, and gives herself a light shake. "Just gimme a sec," she mumbles. Blake snorts, then bursts into laughter, the sound faint and high-pitched. "What the-? Don't laugh! Blake, I'm serious!"
"Sorry, it's just-" Blake wipes a tear from her eye. "You're so nervous. It's cute."
Well, Yang thinks, I can handle cute.
She takes another deep breath, squares her shoulders, and looks into Blake's eyes. "Okay, okay." She clears her throat. "Blake. Blake Belladonna. Unofficial keeper of the books. I-"
"Oh, fuck it." Blake grabs Yang's cheeks and pulls her into a kiss. An uncool squeak of surprise releases from Yang's throat, but before the kiss can deepen, Blake's pulling away already, pink in the cheeks and smiling. At Yang's baffled look, she takes a gulp of her tea. "What? You were taking so long."
#
They don't stop their private book club meeting. If anything, they do it more often now. They would stay well past the closing hours, talking not just about books, but about everything. (Well, they do far more than just talk, but still.)
One day, during one of their not-talking activities, Yang, leaning against her chair, says, "You know, it's like a bookmark." Blake, perched on her lap with a flushed face, tilts her head. "No, see, a bookmark is when you're not quite finished with what you're reading, but you do want to read more, so you place a bookmark down. And, ever since I saw you, I-I wasn't ready to, like, ask you out yet, but I also didn't want to just… not think about you. I don't think I even could anyway." Blake blinks, then pushes away from Yang, giving Yang more space to collect her thoughts. "So, um, I put a bookmark. On my feelings for you. I wasn't, you know, doing anything with it, but I also wasn't forgetting about it. It was still there, on the, uh, the metaphorical shelf, I guess. And now…" She swallows. Looks at Blake again. Smiles. "Now, I'm ready to pick it up again. Pick up where I left off." She chuckles. "Does that make sense?"
Blake smiles a smile more beautiful than the full moon on a starless sky, or the sun setting on the ocean's horizon line. "Not at all," she says, pulling Yang into a kiss.
…
NOTE: So, yeah! That's that! I think I could've shown more of Yang's "party girl" side, and added more accidental touches and lingering looks to max out the romance, but eh. I'm cool with this.
Thanks for reading!