[Complete] [18+]
In the picturesque lakeside town, the calm waters mask the storm within Juniper Jenkins' heart. Betrayed and broken by her cheating boyfriend, she flees to the sanctuary of her friend's lakeside house, to work remotely for the summe...
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"So, I told Roxy we'd just meet her at the bar tonight," Nora mentions while helping me in unload the coffee bags from the car.
"Tonight?"
"Wells," she pauses, her tone scolding, "it's 90s night, remember? I told you I invited Roxy."
"Oh, that," I say, turning to the street and heading to the trunk of my car to grab two more bags of coffee.
And that's when I spot Juniper.
After we wrapped up our interview last night, she sprang up from the couch and immediately began packing her things.
"In a hurry to get somewhere?" I asked as I watched her quickly stuff her laptop into her bag.
"Uh, yeah, I have dinner plans with my friends," she said.
I glanced down at my phone, furrowing my brows. "At 9:30?"
"Um," she nodded hesitantly. "Yeah."
"Didn't you say you had dinner before you got here earlier?"
"Oh, did I? I don't remember," she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Well, gotta run. See you Monday, Wells." Before practically bolting out the door.
I can't tell if I said something wrong or if my knee touching hers was too obvious, or maybe I'm just overthinking it.
But now, she's walking on the opposite side of the street on the sidewalk. Today, she's dressed in a cute short pink flowy dress paired with white sneakers. And I find myself watching as she approaches the bookstore, opens the door, and steps inside.
And no, I am no Joe Goldberg. This is an entirely different situation. I should know, I binge-watched almost half the season last night after Nora said something yesterday.
"Are you even listening to me?" Nora's voice snaps me back to reality.
"No. Not at all," I say setting the bags of coffee by the door and start walking toward the street.
"Wells!" She yells as I cross the street. "Where are you going?"
"Feeling things out," I say over my shoulder. "I'll be right back."
As I reach the entrance of the bookstore, I pull the handle and step inside. The familiar aroma of paper and ink surrounds me. The store is a classic, snug bookstore with narrow aisles and shelves stacked high with books. It's the kind of place that book lovers would go crazy over.
I spot a small hand basket near the entrance and pick it up, blending in with the other shoppers as I begin weaving my way through the store.
I finally lay eyes on her in the romance section. She stands there, book in hand, basket cradled in the crook of her elbow, leaning against the bookshelf. Her fingers skim through the pages, and she pauses, seemingly engrossed in a passage somewhere in the middle of the book.
