Most girls would be jealous of Calliope Draycott. She seemingly has it all. The friends, the money, the boyfriend, and in a few years, if all goes to plan, she'll have the job too. So why doesn't she feel happy? It's after a disastrous family dinner...
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The bell to the bookshop rings out loudly, breaking the silence and signalling the arrival of a customer.
'We're closed,' I shout over my shoulder towards the door as I continue to put some of the books from the floor piles on the shelves wherever I can find a gap. I turn around to the door when I don't hear the customer leave, and when my eyes settle on her face I smile.
'What are you doing here?'
She offers me one of the to-go coffees in her hands. 'Well,' Calliope says, 'we didn't get to go for our coffee yesterday, so I thought we could grab one today.' She shrugs and smiles brightly, but her smile drops. 'Unless this is a bad time? I can go.'
'No!' I say, a bit louder and quicker than intended. 'It's fine, stay, please. I just have some things I need to finish up.'
Her smile spreads across her face again, and I find it ridiculous how happy that makes me because I know I'm the cause of her smile. She makes herself comfortable on the window seat behind the counter and I watch as she takes a sip of her coffee. Her nose scrunches up and she places it on the floor. 'It needs to cool down a bit,' she laughs and rests her head against the window.
She's positively captivating, and it takes all of my self-control to turn my attention away from her to focus on finishing my last few tasks before I could close up shop for the night, because I know if if I let myself I could be enchanted by her all night.
She's humming a song quietly, under her breath, and I recognise it, but I can't quite place it. One thing is for sure though, she might be beautiful, and smart, and kind, but she can't carry a tune to save her life.
Her humming gets louder as I finish up for the night and she types out a few messages on her phone. She only looks up as I'm shrugging on my coat - the same one from the night we met - and I see a disappointed look in her eye.
'Could we stay here for a little bit longer?' she asks, 'It's the perfect spot to watch the fireworks.'
I could think of at least a hundred places with a better view of the fireworks, but when she is looking at me with those wide eyes of hers, I know I can't tell her no. So instead, I shrug my coat off and put it on the counter, pick up the coffee she bought for me and settle down on the window seat next to her.
Not that there's much space on the window seat, and so instead of sitting together, we're more huddled together. She rests her head on my shoulder when the first bang of the evening sounds, and I can't stop myself from smiling down at her, but she's too focused on the fireworks to notice.
As we watch the fireworks in comfortable silence, all I can think is I think I could stay like this forever.
She's letting out ooohs and aaahs at all the right times, and when we hear one loud bang, she pulls out her phone to capture a picture of the moment. It's a nice picture. Between the panes of the window, the lighting outside and the fireworks in the background, it's all very picturesque.
