Adrien loved the smell of a book. Like the words inside, the smells alone could tell a story.
New books had a sort of chemical smell, hot off the press from the manufacturer. He experienced a different kind of thrill as he cracked open the first page. There were no fingerprints or smudges. No creases or wrinkles in the paper. Unscathed and ready to be explored.
Yet he fondly admired and favored older books. They all had little chips of personality. The yellowed pages or slightly bent shape showed character. The wood and coffee smells kissed his nostrils with a pleasant aroma. When he read little surprises inside, like a scribble on the side of a page or an underline of another reader's favorite passage, he felt a connection between himself and the readers of the past.
Books brought comfort in his dismal life; escaping in tales was the best way he knew how to cope with being lonely.
Most teenagers daydreamed of skipping school or becoming a rockstar, but he wasn't like other teenagers. His modeling career made him groan, looking out at his face plastered all over Paris. The last thing he wanted was more attention.
If he could have rubbed the genie's lamp when he was thirteen, he would have wished to explore The Nook. He passed it often to and from his photoshoots, watching as other kids his age went into the shop. Other kids who enjoyed books and coffee and all the goodness that comes with freedom. It sent a pang of longing in his chest each time he craned his neck in the back seat, watching the bookshop's yellow window sign get smaller and smaller as he rode away. He wanted a life outside of his lonely existence. He wanted friends. He wanted excitement and adventure!
He vividly recalled the day his father finally gave in to his demand. How could his father possibly contend with his son who only wanted to visit a bookstore? Exactly, he couldn't! His father's face was nothing short of disdain as he allowed his son a sliver of freedom. Granted only as long as Adrien brought his bodyguard, The Gorilla. Heck, Adrien didn't care who he brought. He was allowed out and about!
And The Nook? It lived up to every expectation and dream he could have imagined. Like a bird freed from a cage, he was able to spread his wings and fly. Overwhelmed and a bit flighty at first, but soon enough, he could peruse a place without a camera being shoved in his face. Truly, one of the best things that ever happened to him.
He had grown fond of his time at the 21st Arrondissement staple. He spent hours exploring the two story bookstore. He made some friends and could read to his heart's content without having to look over his shoulder. He didn't have to mask himself completely. It was his safe space, his home away from home.
What more could he possibly ask for?
It was autumn—his favorite time of year! The leaves changed colors and the cool air created the coziest time of year for a book lover.
Completely content in his quiet corner, The Gorilla busied himself by grabbing a coffee, sitting in his favored red leather chair and listening to a long podcast. Which meant Adrien could explore as long as he wanted to, knowing his bodyguard wouldn't pressure him to leave anytime soon.
And while Adrien was usually content, happily swimming in a sea of books, today he was restless, stuck in an age-old predicament: what story comes next?
After finishing a fantastic series by a new up-and-coming author, he was still chasing that rush of endorphins and looking for his next fix. Something that contained a delicious mix of angst, passion and love; a tale as old as time for any seasoned bookworm.
And who did all of those better than the true marvel, the sonnett king, Shakespeare?
So, here he was, standing in the poetry section, staring at the rows of Shakespeare books, and they stared back in mockery. In jest, their spines tingled and laughed at him, knowing he couldn't just pick one.
His brow furrowed, lips pulled into a thin line, as he browsed through the works. His fingers lazily grazed along the spines as he walked.
Of course, he had read most of them, but like a crackling fire, warm and calming, there was an excitement in revisiting a great story. The Taming of the Shrew was a funny tale. Romeo and Juliet held young love and passion. A Midsummer Night's Dream was filled with magic and mischief.
But he just… couldn't… decide. He sighed loudly. Alone, it was his plight to bear this endless torment of decisions.
As if Mister Fu could hear Adrien's pitiful plea, his smaller frame appeared in the same aisle carrying a stack of books in his arms.
Adrien glanced at the bookshop owner, relaxing his face and plastering on an easygoing smile. He had become quite fond of Mister Fu over the years.
Pausing his search, Adrien greeted him. "Good afternoon, Mister Fu. Do you need any help putting the books away?"
Mister Fu peered over at him and smiled. "Hello, Adrien. Always so kind to offer." He placed the books on the metal pull cart and cracked his back in a dramatic show. "Would you mind? I am definitely feeling my age today," he said windily, placing his hand on his side and rubbing a tender spot. "I'll throw in something extra for you at the end. No charge."
"No, you don't have to give me anything," Adrien awkwardly chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. It's not that he didn't appreciate the sentiment. He did! It's just… the good things he did for someone else meant more when he wasn't expecting something in return.
"I'd be happy to help," Adrien eagerly said as he walked to the cart, picked up some books and began to place them in their respective spaces. Avoiding eye contact with the wise shopkeeper was easier said than done.
Mister Fu hummed, staring up at the younger man with a twinkling gaze, and Adrien knew exactly what that sound and look meant: he would get extra books whether he wanted them or not.
He probably should feel annoyed that Mister Fu ignored him, but he couldn't help the upward tug of his mouth and the warm feeling blooming in his chest. The Nook wouldn't be The Nook without the kind yet stubborn owner. And he was forever grateful for it.
As the last book was placed on the shelf, Mister Fu suggested, "I couldn't help but notice you were deep in thought earlier. Can I offer some advice to repay you?"
Adrien tucked the last book in, sliding it easily into place. Mister Fu read him like a book—pun intended.
Rubbing his nape and twirling the wispy hairs between his fingers, he relented, "Yes, I was actually trying to decide which book to read. I've read most of Shakespeare's works, but I'm just not sure which one is calling out to me today." He brought his hand down and played with the silver ring on his right ring finger.
Mister Fu hummed, stroking his pointed beard as he mused on Adrien's conundrum. "I personally favor The Merchant of Venice. Have you read that one yet?" He asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Adrien shook his head, knitting his brows together. He filtered through his "finished book" internal library, cataloging through the tales and titles. Had he truly missed one of Shakespeare's classics? He had to rectify this wrongdoing immediately!
"No… I don't think I have," Adrien deduced.
Mister Fu spoke evenly, "Ah, well, I believe you would find that one particularly interesting. And since I know you always take good care, could you please take one of the older copies? I think they need a little bit of extra love and care."
"Yes, I always try to," Adrien assured, grinning from ear to ear, "Thanks for the suggestion, Mister Fu!"
"Happy to point you in the right direction," Mister Fu mused with a satisfied grin whistling as he pushed the cart away.
Adrien stared at The Merchant of Venice, fingers tingling with delight as he danced around the five copies sitting on the shelf.
"Pick one of the older copies," he repeated to himself, finding one that was slightly yellowed and admiring the creases in the bind. "Perfect," he smiled.
He plucked the book from the shelf and examined it, reading the summary on the back. He opened it and saw a small folded cherry red paper drop out.
"Strange… where had this come from?" He thought as he bent down and picked up the paper, unfolding it carefully and beginning to read.
Dear Reader,
If you're reading The Merchant of Venice for a book report or for anything other than pleasure, please put me back on the shelf immediately. I need a serious candidate before we can get to know one another.
Adrien chuckled as he gingerly laid the book back on the shelf. Holding the red paper in his hands, he wholeheartedly agreed with the author's forwardness. People who didn't understand the art of poetry and appreciate the use of iambic pentameter were seriously missing out.
First and foremost, thank you for having good tastes if you've decided to continue.
And now that I have your attention, would you like to play a game with me?
Adrien paused for a moment, furrowing his brow. He hoped he didn't have to go far. Perhaps it was a riddle or a guessing game?
Another unpleasant thought struck him, "Am I being pranked?"
The uneasiness settled inside his gut. He scanned the area, watching out for secret cameras. Like a meerkat, he popped his head around and swiveled from side to side from aisle to aisle, taking in any odd placements of items or if somebody was perched and ready to snap a photo of him.
He probably looked paranoid, but he could never be too careful. His father would absolutely kill him if he ended up on some tabloid as the butt of a joke.
Adrien prayed to every deity that this dainty cherry red paper wasn't a bad omen.
After a thorough check to quell his fear, it seemed the coast was clear.
Don't worry, you won't have to go far. All of your answers can be found here in The Nook.
Feeling the anxious coils relax in his chest, he breathed out a sigh of relief. Perfect! He was able to stay in the shop for the game.
I do have to set some ground rules before you begin. I'm only interested if you fit the criteria. It's nothing personal. I just have certain requirements for my reader.
Adrien thought this was odd, but he wasn't one to judge. He was way too interested in the game to quit now.
Number 1: Please be a boy between the ages of sixteen and nineteen.
Check! Adrien cleared the first criteria. He turned seventeen not too long ago.
Number 2: Please tell me you have a sweet tooth. I'd simply die inside if you didn't like sweets.
Check again! Adrien loved sweets! Even though his dad enforced that dumb model diet, he absolutely adored them; especially, chouquettes or passionfruit macarons from Tom and Sabine's.
Speaking of which… The Nook usually had some of those pastries at the café. Although he was pretty sure Marinette hadn't come by to drop them off yet.
Adrien's mouth watered at the thought of pastries. He placed the task on his mental to-do list. He should ask The Gorilla if they could stop by to grab a quick bite before they head back home. Tom and Sabine were always happy to see him, and Marinette was such a sweet friend.
His lips curled upward as he thought of the gift she made for his birthday: a handmade pair of emerald green gloves. She was always so thoughtful and precise with her gifts. Truly, she was the best gift-giver and friend anyone could have.
He glanced down at the letter, pushing past his grumbling stomach pains.
Not to mention, I'm too sweet to pass up ;)
He laughed softly. "I'm sure you are," Adrien mused as he grinned.
Whoever this author was seemed cheeky and funny, definitely someone he could be friends with - or maybe more. His cheeks warmed at the thought.
Is it possible he had developed feelings for someone in less than fifteen sentences? By the way his heart thrummed with excitement as he read the author's letter, he knew that absolutely, yes, he could.
Number 3: Please don't cheat - this includes asking for help or googling the answers. I need to know if my reader can woo me with his brain, not his impressive internet skills.
So, knowing what you know, are you ready to play, mystery reader?
Adrien bit his lip and smirked. He read over the contents again and nodded assuredly.
It wasn't often that he had something like this to challenge him in his routine lifestyle. It was time to shake things up!
Something stirred within him. It wasn't quite like the thrill of fencing against an opponent. This feeling was more like a swirling storm inside him that was ready to burst from joy. A kid on Christmas morning while they unwrapped their stockings from Père Noël.
He clutched onto every written word, itching to start the challenge.
With a newfound determination, he thought, "Okay, letter writer, game on!"
I have to note: I get an absolute thrill from riding through the ups and downs of a journey. However, if you're a "skip to the end because you can't wait to find out what happens" kind of person, that's cool and all. I don't fault you for your eagerness. In fact, you'll notice there's something missing in my letter. Can you figure out what it is?
Adrien skipped past the game to the bottom of the page, eagerly anticipating the fated outcome.
Only to come up empty.
There was no signature.
Uh….
What the—?
How the—?
Why the—?
"Who the heck doesn't leave their name at the end of a letter?!" His mind screamed as he openly gaped at the blank space.
His eyes glanced right back up to where he left off with much less enthusiasm than before.
So, did you find the puzzle piece that's missing? I bet you did, you sleuth.
"Sure did," Adrien muttered grimly.
For the first time, he felt a pang of disappointment. He really wanted to know who this cute mystery author was. Well, okay, he didn't actually know if the letter's writer was cute, but he thought the author had cute handwriting. So… she has to be cute, right? Cute girls had cute handwriting. It was an undeniable fact!
Sorry to be dramatic, but I need a little commitment. You need to prove to me that you really want this. Follow my instructions and you'll find the answers you're looking for. Get a pen.
Adrien searched for a pen in his cashmere sweater and pants as if he was being frisked at an airport security checkpoint. He came up short, so like a man on a mission, he briskly walked to where he left his overcoat in the coffee shop's lounge. He searched his coat frantically and dove into all the ins and outs. He felt a thin pen in the inner breast pocket and smiled widely.
"Found you," he smirked. He pulled out the pen, clutched it tightly and read the rest of the instructions.
Write seven dashes at the bottom of the page. Each of the letters can be found in the different clues. The letters will spell out my name. Still interested, dear reader?