I Just Want You to Know Who I Am | shiver fanfic

Chapter Eleven

Grace.

The doorbell hooked onto the top of the door rings out, announcing my arrival to the entire bookstore. My eyelids feel heavy as my boots scuff the carpeted floor, my footsteps muffled against the plush floor. I feel so drained, both physically and emotionally. I had unwillingly bailed on Rachel and Olivia the night before, because of the day's events. The visual of Sam, the boy with the golden eyes, shifting from a vulnerable human boy to a snarling wolf in the backseat of Isabel's car.

It isn't plausible. It just doesn't make sense. And yet it happened.

I run a shaky hand through my hair, and let out a deep breath, composing myself. Breathe, Grace. You just witnessed a supernatural occurrence not twenty-four hours ago, but life goes on.

Believe it or not, it's harder to forget something like that just with a mental pep-talk, that's for sure.

Isabel's footsteps are behind me as we walk through the bookstore, heading towards the young adult section. I had bailed on Rachel and Olivia the night previous, so Rachel was a little p-oed, so I asked Isabel if she wanted to come with me. Besides, I need a good distraction from my overactive mind.

She is relatively quiet, so I almost don't notice when she is missing, leaving me for the magazine section of the store.

My fingertips graze the spines of the books, losing myself in the titles, searching for something that sounds interesting.

After searching for who knows how long, I wander over to Isabel, who is flipping through a Vogue magazine. Her eyes flicker up to me, noticing me here. She holds the magazine against her side, slapping it closed. The swift movement makes the scent of the perfume advertisement's example smells waft up to my nose. Together, Isabel and I head for the abandoned counter.

"I swear, only like two people work here." she huffs, leaning her elbow onto the counter. My eyes scan over the photo that is half hidden under her elbow. I nudge her slightly, wanting to get a better look. She peers over my shoulder, wanting to investigate as well. I feel my breath hitch in my throat when I see who it is.

Sam.

"You've got to be kidding me." she groans, but her eyes shine with curiosity. "There's no escaping that freak, is there?"

I am unable to look away from the picture, away from the gold eyes that are staring back at me, his eyes slightly crinkled as he smiles, an older woman's arm slung around his shoulder, who I recognize as the woman who usually works here. Is he her son?

"Hello ladies, sorry to keep you waiting!" a voice sounds from the other side of the counter, the woman in the photograph now in front of us, her name-tag reading Karyn.

"Hey, who is this?" Isabel's voice is a little on the demanding side as she jabs a finger at the picture, her manicured nail resting on Sam's chest. I shoot her a warning look, but she is looking expectantly at Karyn, so she doesn't notice.

Karyn's expression softens as she sees what Isabel is talking about, and her voice is fond as she speaks. "That's Sam Roth. He helps me out around here."

Isabel glances at me, as if asking for permission for something, but then seems to remember that she doesn't ask for permission for anything, because she is Isabel, and speaks anyway.

"Sam Roth, huh." she says the name thoughtfully, as if trying to recall where she had heard it before. "Do you know where he lives, by chance?"

"Isabel." I hiss under my breath.

She ignores me, tapping her fingers on the counter top. Karyn peels a pale yellow sticky note from its pad, and jots something down on it in a ball point pen, the letters running together. She hands it to me. "Here's his address. He lives at Geoffrey Beck's house."

"Thank you." I thank her, smiling kindly at her. Isabel pays for her magazine, and waltzes out of the store and to her car. I have to hurry to catch up with her.

I slam the passenger door shut once inside. "Have you lost your mind?" I demand.

"No."

"Why would you do that? She probably thinks we're stalkers, or something!"

"Grace, Grace Grace. She was the one naive enough to give it to us." Isabel clucks her tongue as she takes the sticky note from me, and sticking it onto the rear-view mirror.

"So what are we going to do, just show up there and ask him why he changed into a wolf?" the last word is a struggle to release, but I manage.

Isabel glances at me through her thick black eyelashes, and slides her sunglasses onto her eyes as her car roars to life. "Precisely."