redamancy // l.h au

one

 

I believe in serendipity—finding something good without actually looking for it. Maybe it was an excuse for my laziness, or maybe I'm just jealous of the happy endings the characters in the books I read get. Either way, it was improbable.  I believe in those cheesy romantic endings, but I didn't think they'd happen to me. Ever.

I mean, come on. I'm a seventeen year old girl who works in a Barnes and Noble that's bigger than a house (with mediocre pay, might I add) and  absolutely no interest in guys outside of the fictional world.  Well, maybe James Franco, too. But that's it.  If my life was a book, I'd most definitely be a side character in the big span of things.

This particular day, I rode a NYC taxi to work, which I highly despise. Considering the possibility that my driver would be a pedophile and the uncomfortable leather seats, I wasn't too thrilled when Mom told me she'd be taking the Nissan to work that morning.

It was pouring in New York City that day; the rain droplets raced down the window as I counted down the minutes before I could jump out of the taxi. I gripped my black leather jacket, hugging it closer to my figure and let my long black hair hang over my face. "So,  Barnes and  Noble, huh? Are you those nerd girls who loves books? Nice, I like that. Very. . . striking." Annnnnnd, there it is.

The taxi driver glanced at me through his rear view mirror and I shivered. He had olive skin, like mine, but he must've been twenty years older. His black pedo mustache framed  his face just enough to break the creeper-scale. I nodded slightly, praying for us to reach our destination soon.

Sure enough, a few minutes of awkward silence later, he pulled into the curb outside of the bookstore. I nearly jumped out of the cab after I handed the man a ten dollar bill. I checked the clock on my phone before I rushed inside, attempting to avoid the rain: 9:53AM.

Thank God. Seven more minutes in that taxi with the creeper and I would've been late to my favorite job.

"Rhea!" Charlotte, the store manager, yelled out to me just as I had appeared through the revolving entrance doors, dripping wet. Her bright red hair was tied back in a messy bun and she wore a black and white chiffon dress and black heels.

I turned to my left, following her voice, "I made it!" I walked over to where she was, standing behind the register. Nearly knocking over a John Green display, I scrambled to tell her my pedophile taxi driver story and she burst out laughing.

"Why is it that you attract middle aged taxi drivers?"  She put her chin in her hands, looking  up at me with faux fascination.

"It might be the whole punk rock thing I have going on," I smiled, gesturing to my outfit, which consisted of a black leather jacket, a white T-shirt that said  'I heart bands more than you' , black skinny jeans, and my white converse.

"Puh-lease, Rhea. You cried when your pigeon died." The red head rolled her eyes. I scrunched up my nose, wringing out my wet hair in her face and she fanned me away.  Charlotte was twenty-six, but she acted like she was thirteen.

"Kevin didn't deserve to die!" I yelled out, making my way to the backroom. I placed my cross-body purse on the hook and scanned myself in. I pinned my name card to my jacket and made my way to the new shipments that I needed to place on the shelves.

I started in the Teen Fiction section, placing new Cassandra Clare books on the Fantasy Romance sub-genre shelf.  I had my earphones in my ears, playing Ariana Grande's new album. It was there where I met my serendipity.

Okay, fine. That's cliché, but I can't help it.  I'm not even sure that that was grammatically correct, anyways.

I held a mountain of books, authors ranging from James Dashner to John Green, when a voice startled me, "Excuse me?" The voice was low and accented. Which, promptly, made me drop every book that I held, probably giving me numerous paper cuts that I'd discover later on.

"OUCH. Oh, my God. I'm sorry, I'm a klutz. What do you need?" I say, not looking up to the boy's  (or at least I hoped it was a boy) voice.

 I clumsily piled the books into a stack as the book spoke again, "I can ask some other person, it's okay." He was Australian. Oh, my God. He was Australian.

"No, no." I say, getting up from my sitting position and brushing the dust off my pants, "I can help, what's up?" It was then, when I looked up, that I saw the most beautiful boy I'd ever met.

His blonde hair stuck up in an effortless quiff above his head and his eyes were a deep ocean blue. He smiled at me, deepening his dimples and showing off his perfect white teeth. He wore ripped skinny jeans, a Nirvana hoodie, and black boots. Oh, man.  "Do you have an suggestions?"

He held up the book he had in his hands, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green. I smiled and nodded, leaning down to choose a book from the pile I had dropped. Once I found it, I held it out to him, "Perks of Being a Wallflower, Stephan Chbosky. This book literally killed me.

He laughed, "I trust you, clumsy." The tall boy took the book from  my hands

I gaped at my new nickname, "Nice try, but I'm Rhea."

"Luke," He says, dimples galore. I almost melt. Beautiful boy, where have you been all my life? He laughed, deep and  low. OH, MY GOD. DID I JUST SAY THAT OUT LOUD? No, no, I didn't. Otherwise, he would've run away screaming by now.

"I like your shirt." We both say simultaneously. I chuckle, "I have, like, twenty Kurt Cobain shirts."

"I have thirty," Luke smiled, leaning over to grab the pile of books beside my feet, leaving his two books on the floor, "This is just a precaution, in case you decide to spaz again." He places them on the cart next to me and I stiffen just as our arms brush.

"WHATS THAT CHAR?" I yell out to nothing, hoping to escape a soon-to-be  embarrassing hot boy encounter. I turn to the aussie, "I gotta run, let me know if you need anything, else, okay?"

I turned to leave, but Luke stops me, "Rhea, missing something?"

I turn to find him leaning against the cart, "Oh, right!" Red crept up my cheeks as I pulled the cart along with me, waving a quick goodbye.

"Bye, Rhee-Ah." Okay, his accent is killing me.

I rush towards the elevator, slowly trying to comprehend what just happened.

A beautiful boy with gorgeous eyes and a killer smile just talked to me without anything going wrong (minus the whole book-dropping incident). Somehow, I felt I would be seeing more of Luke. Or at least I sure hope so.

I guess I do read too many books, don't I?