"It's nothing," he let out a breathy chuckle, "I'm pretty sure if it weren't for you I wouldn't be as busy as I am."
This peeked her curiousity. "What do you mean?" She asked.
"Well... the days that you uhm... visit," he paused for a moment, his h...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rain pounded the pavements of Brooklyn, colouring everything in unseasonable shades of grey. Alba clutched the cardboard sleeve of her oat milk latte just a little bit tighter and tried to summon up the courage to step out into the deluge. With a deep breath she scrunched up her nose, took a deep breath, and surged out into the rain. She almost turned left, heading for the warmth of her apartment, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It was Thursday, and she would have missed her afternoon at the bookstore.
Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Saturdays. For a couple of hours, three times a week, she allowed herself the luxury of escaping into her head through the portal of whichever book she was devouring at the time. The store owner was great. He didn't seem to mind how long she stayed, or that she brought coffee with her. Hell, sometimes he even had snacks out on the little tables that accompanied the worn leather chairs and couches that were dotted around the store. She wasn't even going to start thinking about how easy on the eye he was. Nope. Not at all.
It didn't take her long to reach "Barnes' Bookstore", her haven amidst the metropolitan jungle of New York. The bell above the door tinkled merrily as she pushed her way inside, shutting it behind her to keep out the flood. The store owner was in his usual spot behind the counter and Alba offered him a small wave and a sheepish smile as she headed over to her usual spot, tucked away in the back of the store. Barnes (she assumed that's what he was called) waved back and smiled, his blue eyes crinkling as he tracked her path until she was out of sight behind some shelving. Alba reached her favourite leather chair - overstuffed to perfect comfort - and let out a gasp of surprised pleasure. Not only was there a small bowl of pretzels and raisins on the side table, her favourite snack by far, but also a large, fluffy towel draped over the arm of the chair.
"I wasn't sure if you'd show, what with the weather. But I didn't want you to have to sit there wet through if you did," Barnes' voice floated through the bookshelves until he appeared at the end of the row, soft smile on his face.
"A little rain has never stopped me before," Alba replied, dropping her bag and picking up the towel, happily surprised to find it warm. "But thank you, Barnes."
Barnes chuckled lightly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead back into place.
"My name's Bucky. Barnes too, but you're here so often you can call me Bucky."
"Kinda appropriate, considering," Alba giggled, gesturing around at the shelves.
"It's not spelled like..." Bucky trailed off a sheepish blush creeping across his face. "Yeah, yeah, laugh it up."
"Sorry," Alba said, her lips curling into an apologetic smile. "I couldn't help it."
"I'll let you get away with it this one time," he replied.
There was a pause, one of those moments when there would have been further conversation if the two had known each other better, but they didn't. Alba scrunched her hair into the towel a few times to mask her awkwardness.
