The Senior Project

Chapter Three | Little Villages

CHAPTER THREE~
LITTLE VILLAGES

"Oh! This looks so quaint and cute!" I gasped in pleasant shock.

"Then let's go!"

James grabbed my hand and pulled me towards the bus doors.

Thirty minutes ago, we boarded a random bus. When I thought back on it, our decision wasn't smart at all. We could have ended up in the middle of nowhere. That didn't happen though, instead, it ended up heading towards the outskirts of the city. For some time, we just examined our increasingly rural surroundings, searching for a fun place to explore. Just as we were about to give up (fields of corn and wheat didn't exactly seem fun or legal to adventure through), the bus entered a little village named Lindonville lined with shops and cafés. And we were both instantly enraptured by the mini-village.

James and I walked down the little cobblestone lined street, absorbing the sights and scents.

"Shocking how I've lived thirty minutes from here and yet, I've never been here," I commented as I spotted a little bookshop and changed directions to head there.

"We do tend to live our lives caught up in the moment," he said wryly.

"That is very true," I agreed. Then, I hurried off down the footpath.

"Hey! Slow down Speedy!" James called, hurrying after me.

I turned on my camera and filmed his long, rushed strides. Then I swung around slowly and got a shot of the shop-lined street before wandering into the bookshop. "Wow, it's amazing in here," I murmured in awe.

The interior was so much bigger than it seemed on the outside. Wooden beams crisscrossed the ceiling, and books filled the shelves. In the corner, a little coffee shop of sorts allowed the smell of coffee to permeate the air.

I ran my fingers along the spines of some older books. Classics, young adult novels, teen fictions, children's books and anything in-between lined the worn shelves. Near the front, a rack of faux-leather notebooks took up one wall.

After quickly asking the young-ish guy at the counter if I could film in here, he agreed with a pleasant smile. So now, I was walking around, filming, snapping pictures, and scanning over the book titles.

I finally reached a section where classic titles were held, the books that transcended time and culture. I smiled because my father always told me these books were the best; not today's modern action and romance books, no, it was the books that withstood the test of time.

But what caught my attention the most was James, standing there before the books. His face resembled something akin to a star struck teenage girl, or in his case, teenage boy. Immediately, I slid back around the corner and fiddled with my camera. I peeked back out and caught a solid minute of footage. He seemed so enchanted by whichever story held his attention.

"You know, I can see you," he said as he fingered the worn book. I blushed in response, turning around the bookcase and approaching him.

"Sorry."

"S'okay."

"Whatcha looking at?" I asked curiously, my fingers reaching for the book.

I turned it around to see the classic title of Romeo and Juliet.

"Shakespeare." I laughed softly.

"Yup."

"You like this one?"

"Yeah, it's got some pretty deep themes," he muttered stiffly as his fingers tightened around the book. He mumbled something else that sounded vaguely like Holly's favourite book. But I wasn't sure.