Leather Bound ✓

three | curvy

three | curvy

     It had been weeks since Amanda had finished reading her father's most loyal customers journal, and from those pages she finally knew what his name was though she dare not say it out loud in case all the butterflies in her stomach died and she threw them up along with her breakfast of an English Muffin and some tea. Her father rushed her out of her pajamas and into some work clothes and then she was off to work with him riding shotgun as it was a Saturday morning.

     As soon as they opened up shop the electrician that they had splurged money they didn't have came in bustling through with his kit of tools. The sound system that would play all over the store was installed in under four hours and they tipped the guy extra cash for being amazingly discreet while he worked and while their customers shopped. Business was at its peak, and Amanda had even talked to a few other teens she recognized from school when they asked for recommendations. Everything was going fairly well despite the heat, and her father had even managed to escape a few hours of inventory to run the business he had started when mid evening came around.

     "Your total will be six dollars and fifteen cents," Amanda rang up a girl with hips for days in platform heels and hair that reached the middle of her back.

     "Thanks. My nephew loves reading. He's six. He should love this book," the girl spoke, red lipstick staining her teeth. Amanda only nodded, smiled, and thanked her for stopping by, wrapping up the little toy truck book before handing over the bag. Sighing, Amanda reached for her drink, recapped it, and shuffled small items around her desk until it was less cluttered when something in the air shifted and the whole book shop seemed to go still.

     Amanda waited, hands trembling around the paperback book she had picked up out of boredom. Gripping the spine, it creased as she watched him lock up his bike, looping the heavy plastic wire around the light post and then through the gap of his bike, spinning the dial lock in a display of different numbers. The seconds ticked in her ears as he met her eyes through the glass of the door, and then completely stopped, their eyes frozen on each other through the sheet of glass. And when he finally pulled the door open, the quietness shattered around them, and he walked up to her counter, palms flat against the barrier that separated them. Her walls of defense shook.

     He was dressed differently from usual, though his style was the same. His pants were a navy blue, and he wore a white button down shirt, with little black dots on it in some sort of pattern. She thought they looked like bird wings. His shoes were white, but the lining was navy blue, and his shoelaces were too. He looked smart, and that made her blush.

     "Hi. I believe I left my journal with you. I'm here to pick it up," he smiled at her, softly, almost secretly. She stammered, dumbstruck, because it was really happening. They were really talking. Only, so far it was a one person conversation as she had yet to say anything to him. Before she could think to go grab his leather bound journal, she realized that she would never be able to talk to him. She didn't know how. She shook her head at him, turning away to the back room where her father was still doing inventory.

     Reaching over her father, hunched back above his books, she grabbed the journal she was looking for which was sitting right next to her pink one, and in that moment she had thought that maybe it was only fair that he got to read hers. But she hadn't asked for him to give his journal to her, and she had no obligation to return the sentiment, but before she could talk herself out of it, she flipped through the pages of her own journal and ripped out a page, wedging the torn leaf between his words and his thoughts, much like her own, but so different.

     Back at the desk she shoved the book under his nose, cheeks pink, eyes cloudy in worry, and he couldn't help but notice it. However, he brushed it off and thanked her, winking a goodbye which she couldn't help but wince at. Why goodbye? She thought. Why not see you later?