The Bookstore

Chapter Seven

       "Can we take a lunch break, Dave? Jane and I have already put more than half of the books away," Chris called a few hours later. I stared at the pile of boxes left untouched. There was still a lot of work to be done. Dave stepped out of his office.
        "A lunch break?" He eyed us. I'd never taken a lunch break before. I didn't have reason to. I didn't get payed so I didn't have the money and I'd rather spend lunch in the bookstore. My grip on the book in my hand tightened.
        "I don't want to go anywhere," I gulped, silently pleading to Dave with my eyes.
        "Exactly! It's unhealthy to box yourself up in here like this!" Chris exclaimed. Dave shook his head in agreement. "Can we borrow your car?"
        Dave squinted at him. "Why?" He asked warily. Obviously not trusting Chris' driving skills.
        "My car will attract attention. My friends will want to hang out if they see my car."
        Dave sighed and tossed him the keys. Chris grinned and took my hand. I squirmed. Butterflies danced in my stomach. Why does it have to be me? Oh god why me? "Don't wreck her," Dave groaned, staring at his car through the window. Chris pulled a face.
        "We're just going out to lunch, Dave. I'm not like that," he defended. I felt myself being pulled away. Ew that outside world. He'd probably take me to some greasy fast food place.      Those are the worst. I can feel the grease settling at the bottom of my stomach as soon as I've had my first bite. My feet carried me to Dave's beaten up car. It's color resembled rust. I yanked the door open. It squeaked and groaned in complaint.
         "We'll definitely be left alone driving in this thing," Chris muttered, adjusting the seat. I pulled the door shut. The seat belt clicked on.
        The engine roared to life. "She's not that bad," I sighed, patting the dash. Chris gave me a small half smile and began driving. "So, where are you taking me."
        "I don't remember the name of it," he muttered absently. "Mystery destination. What do you think of that?" I frowned.
        "Sounds too similar to mystery meat," I replied quickly. He laughed and turned his head.
"It's definitely not mystery meat. I'm trying to take you to lunch, not kill you," Chris chuckled, looking back at the road. He took a deep breath and looked back at me. "I lied about why I had to get a job."
        I looked back over at him in surprise. "What?"
        Chris sighed. He began tapping on the drivers wheel. "What are you nervous about?" I asked suddenly. It was his turn to look at me in surprise.
       "What? How did you-"
       "You tap on things when you're nervous. You did it when you dropped me off, too," I explained sheepishly. I don't know why I noticed that. Maybe reading made me more aware. Possibly.
        "Oh.." His voice trailed off. Chris cleared his throat. "My mom lost her job again. I had to get a job to help her keep up with the bills."
        "I thought-"
        "What? That I'm a spoiled rich kid with two adoring parents and a large mansion with a billion acres of land?" He finished with a laugh. "I wish."
        So maybe I'd judged him a little too quickly.
        "I didn't assume-"
        "Yes, you did. I could tell by the way you acted around me," he said softly. "I don't blame you. A pretty little boy cruising around in his sports car. That seems pretty snobby rich kid to me. The car was a gift from my dad before he left."
        I stared at him in shock. I couldn't help but feel guilty and just awful. I had two parents who loved me dearly and didn't have to pay for a thing in the world. Not even my own books. Yet, I sulked around and despised him for the perfect life I thought he had. Judging a book by its cover. The old saying rang in my mind.
        "Why are you telling me this," I asked, looking down at my shoes. Chris shrugged.
        "If you're going to hate me for what I'm not, then why would you care who I really was? I just needed someone to know that wasn't Nichole. Someone who wouldn't play the pity card on me all of the time," he answered. The tapping stopped. I looked back up at him and caught him looking back at me. His eyes quickly returned back to the road. Chris's solemn look was replaced with a wide grin. "Who's ready for some lunch."
        Subway? I sighed with relief. I'd yet again evaded the path of grease.