Lillian Perkins is having a horrible day from start to finish and a clueless Dakota Thornton waltzing into her workplace in need of a book for his sister doesn't exactly bring her stress level down. Not to mention getting stuck in an elevator with h...
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One hour later, I've only managed to organize the first cart on the third floor and one of the carts on the second, leaving five more to be done. My hopes for only five have been sadly disappointed.
I sigh, grabbing the first few books from the next group, groaning when I realizing they all belong in the romance section. Not even the kind that people my age read, but the kind of romance that your weird single aunt reads that has the shirtless muscular guy with long hair on the front and has an uncomfortable title like "His Mistress" and involves a lot of unnecessary racy scenes.
"Ew." My nose curls as I look at the top cover, a women with a big bust on the cover wearing a medieval dress and red lipstick. I quickly place it in its alphabetical place and move onto the next one.
Another thirty minutes is spent by me shoving the novels into their respectful positions as quickly as I can without getting caught on the cringey cover photos. By the time I get to my fourth cart, the light is getting a little dimmer outside. Not quite time for the sunset but it's no longer early afternoon.
It takes me longer to organize these, the genre being one of my favorites; non-fiction mystery. I keep getting caught on different stories, the titles sucking me in. After typing several of the novels into the notes of my phone, I'm not even halfway through the cart.
A loud banging sound resounds throughout the whole floor, startling me. My shoulders tense up as I set down the stack of books I was holding and turn slowly on my heel. My eyes scan the rows of books and my ears rings from the silence.
That's one thing that really sucks about working at a bookstore that's pretty slow most of the time, especially on weekends. You're usually left alone and it's always eerily silent. I usually bring my headphones and listen to music but in my rush this morning, I forgot them.
"Hello?" I call warily, taking a few steps in the direction of the noise, goosebumps raised on the bare skin of my legs as my heart pounds with pure paranoia.
It's in these moments that I thoroughly regret reading so many real life mysteries. All of those different ways to kill or be killed are swirling in my mind like a bad dream. I tip toe closer and closer to where I'm thinking the noise came from and with each step I grow more afraid.
In my logical mind, I'm perfectly calm and I'm fully aware that it's probably just Edith falling off the step ladder again. In the imagination part of my brain, however, I am picturing an axe murderer with a hatred for girls with dark hair and blue eyes because of his late wife whom he murdered due to her consistant nights out with other men. And now he's on the hunt for his revenge.
I shake my head, trying to push away every story I've ever read to calm myself down, the silence in the air doing nothing to calm my nerves. "Hello?" I call again, this time my voice coming out in a high squeak.
As I round the corner and enter an isle of shelves, I begin walking even slower. Approaching the end of the narrow walkway, I stop. My ears perking up at the sound of a loud groan.
"Ah!" I jump back when I round the next corner, a hand wrapped around my bare ankle. I quickly kick it off, screaming loudly. "Let go of me!" I shout.
"Ow!" A familiar deep voice groans from the ground once again. My eyes move downward to see the boy from earlier, his eyes shut and looks to be in an immense amount of pain.
"Oh, geez." I hiss, my cheeks turning red. "I'm so sorry about that. I-I thought I was alone in here and I heard this crash and then I came over here and kept thinking that - never mind, it doesn't matter what I was thinking. Now I've said too much." I mumble, looking down at my shoes.
He laughs once before stopping and rolling into his side, wincing in agony. "It's fine." He sighs, lying on his back with a sigh, staring up at the ceiling.
I lick my lips uncomfortably, clicking me heels together as I watch him lay there silently. "Do you need some help now?" I bite my lip to contain my laugh as he tries to sit up, grunting several times before getting to his feet. My eyes zero in on the mini stool tipped over.
"No, I said I can find it on my own. Therefore, I will find it on my own." He says with furrowed brows, his right hand coming up to rub his left shoulder as he rolls his head around to stretch his neck. My nose scrunches when I hear a crack.
My lips parts slightly to argue, "I'm sorry but I have to disagree. You've been here for about..." I look down at my old leather watch my grandmother bought me for my sixteenth birthday, "three hours, and you still haven't found whatever it is you're looking for."
His face falls before he releases a sound of frustration, running his hands through his blonde hair. "Seriously?" His eyes look to me as if to tell him I'm joking. I nod once. "Shoot."
"Do you have to be somewhere?" I ask him, leaning down to set the stool upright.
"No." The boy with the green eyes sigh. "I just promised myself this would be quick and painless."
I cock a brow at him, crossing my arms as I observe his stiff shoulder and ruffled hair. "Well, from the looks of it, it hasn't been either of those things." I snort.
He gives me a dead stare. "Thanks for that..." he stares at the left side of my chest and I'm about to blush when I realize he's reading my name tag, "Lillian. I just love someone pointing out my obvious hellacious predicaments." He says sassily.
I scoff, taking a step back. "Hellacious." I press my lips together as I nod with a fake impressed smile, "Vocab word perhaps?"
His large eyes narrow at me suspiciously. "Are you making fun of me?"
"Am I?" I challenge, leaning on one hip as my jaw ticks.
He blinks at me, looking confused and a little bit intrigued. "Huh." His jaw flexes as he chews on a piece of gum. "I'm Dakota."
"North or South?" I ask smartly with a subtlety snarky smile.
He pauses before a wide grin spreads over his full lips and his eyes glide down to my shoes and back up to my eyes. "You're awfully cheeky."
"I prefer intelligent."
"That too." He bounces his brows. "You know...I think I could use your help. Your very professional opinion is very important to me." He informs me.
My eyes narrow at him, my glasses sliding down my nose a little and I try to determine if he's being sarcastic or not. "I don't know. You seem to be getting along fine on your own."
"No, I'm hopeless." He immediately shoots back with his arms open, gesturing to the stool that was tipped over moments ago.
I decide it's best to test him before blindly assisting him. "How do you locate a book? By the author's first or last name?"
"Uh...neither?" He asks with a shrug, giving me wide innocent eyes.
I purse my lips slightly, studying him, before checking my watch once again. I still need to take care of two more full carts of books and I get the feeling that helping Dakota might take longer than I expect.
"Alright, I'll help you." I put on my employee smile.
A crooked grin is placed on his face, a crater of a dimple appearing on his clear skin. "Fantastic."
