Girls In Love - A Lesbian Romance Anthology

Bookstore

"Old Words, New Stories." That was the name of the book shop I was going to visit. Again. The first time I visited was just by pure chance - it was raining, I was cold, and I like reading so of course, I went inside a book shop to take shelter from the rain. Inside it smelled of old stories and hidden mysteries. Grabbing a book and just paging through it by hand is a feeling I'm never getting bored of. Yeah, yeah, I know, eBooks are the shit right now, but... Somehow being able to physically turn the pages is a feeling I don't want to lose. And the stories within the pages! Dragons, Detectives, Dying Stars, and Deadly Traps. I've always loved stories, most of all romance though, I must confess. I've read gross upon gross of romance stories, but I'm never getting enough of those, I don't think. Probably mainly, because I thought I'd never experience anything like it in the real world, myself. That's why I've held the love of the characters in the stories so close to my own heart. For one, I thought I'd be too old for anything like that, I'm almost 30. I live alone in a tiny apartment, even though I could afford more - I just don't need it. And the other point, I'm gay. Straight as a corkscrew. I like men as much as I like fire, contained and preferably far away from my books. On top of all that, I have a boring name, Anita Jones. Anita Jones, the slightly mad step-sister of Indiana Jones, Jr. That's what it sounds like.

So it was kind of a shock when I noticed that my feet brought me back to "Old Words, New Stories" time and again, and I noticed in the last few trips there that I had no intention of buying anything in the first place. I just went there and... talked to her. The person that makes me walk in freezing rain and scorching sun. The person who can make me smile after an 80-hour workweek simply by looking at me. The person who makes my heart flutter when I think about her. Jasmine. Jasmine Holbrook. Her strangely colorless grey eyes, that have a permanent joyful glitter in them. Her slightly reddish-brown hair that she keeps in a neat bun. Her tiny lips. Her seriously beautiful neckline, her earlobes. She works at the store or owns it, I don't know. I've never talked to her about anything much. Just everyday stuff and me, when she asked. I only know she's almost ten years my junior, has worked there for two years and lives nearby the shop.

So why, then, have I fallen for her? Why did my heart choose to grab onto her so bad I can't even sleep at night. I keep thinking about her and staying up, dreaming and wishing. Dreaming about those eyes looking at me, those slender fingers holding my hand. I can never tell her how I feel. I'm older, much older than her, and we're both women. I think society is slowly changing towards it being okay, but it surely is not fine just yet. She'd hate me if I'd tell her. So I keep it all in and just look at her from the sidelines and behind the shelves. If she remembers me at all, she'll probably think about me only of "That weird older woman who likes that particular book series and reads a lot of romance. Probably desperate old maid who'll end up with three dozen cats in an old rotting house." Not that she'd be far off the mark in that, but anyway.

So why then, do I keep coming back here? As I step into the shop once again, I wonder what am I doing with my life. Am I going to spend the next years coming here three times a week, hiding behind the bookshelves and looking at her? I don't want that, but I can't imagine a future without seeing her either. So I come here, pretend I had something other to do, and watch her. She's... she's everything I ever wanted in my life. She's intelligent, funny, kind, beautiful and she has a great sense of humor. I hope she sucks at something because that would just make me feel a failure as a woman. Not that I don't think so already, but you catch my drift. She'll be the perfect wife for some lucky guy if she doesn't already have a boyfriend. She must have. A girl like her can just pick and choose anyone as they throw themselves at her. But somehow thinking about her with a guy makes me feel physically ill. My chest hurts and I feel like puking up.

I greet her and try to keep my face straight and myself from blushing. She looks so damn good. I have a fleeting thought of waking up and seeing her next to me and I have to turn around to hide my red face. I walk to the shelves and pick up the next part of the series I've been reading. Only one copy, damn I was lucky! I didn't know it sold so well! They usually have at least five or ten copies of the latest volume, but whoa. All sold? And it came out only last week...? Well, it *is* a good story, not gonna lie. Good on the author. I glance through the bookshelf and she turns her gaze around. Why was she looking here? Has she noticed that I'm spying on her!? I glance around to see if there are cameras around. Of course, there are, it's the 21st century. I must look like such a suspicious person right now! Hiding behind shelves, looking at the cashier, and then checking the security cams. Dang, I feel stupid. I wander to another shelf and pick up another book at random and leaf through it. Doesn't seem like anything interesting. Male protagonist and a bunch of guys ogling women, not a good start for a story in my opinion. I walk around the shelves for a while and then turn back towards the front of the shop. Jasmine turns her gaze away again! She's definitely noticed me staring at her. Oh crap. What do I do now? I can't come back soon after this. Thankfully the next volume only releases in the summer and now it's winter, so I don't need to be back here... but at the same time I know I'm gonna be back here as soon as possible. The pain of not seeing her is greater than the shame of being noticed while looking at her, I think.