An SK Kind of Wedding

Chapter 2

A year ago

Nick took me by surprise. In a good way. Ours was a slow burn.

I encountered him first at the unlikeliest of places—a bookstore. I was just browsing. I saw him seemingly debating which to buy between two of Stephen King's books—It and The Gunslinger. He had a book in each hand, and he would look at one then the other, then back again. He was of average height, lanky, fair, and quite endearing in his button-down white shirt tucked into dark jeans that fit him just right. His hair was messy, like he had been running his fingers through it for a while. And he had on dark-rimmed glasses.

I had made my way around to other shelves to look at other books, but when I came back to the horror section, he was still there, doing the same thing. So, without thinking, I approached him.

"Is it for you?" I asked.

He turned around, surprised out of his deep contemplation.

"Excuse me?"

I noticed then how really cute he was. His eyes were deep-set, bright, and intelligent behind the glasses. He had a strong jawline and a lopsided smile that gave his almost pretty face an air of quiet mystery. His voice was also nice, not too low, not too high. Just right.

Our gazes locked. It took me a few seconds to recover.

"Are you selecting a book for yourself?"

He realized I was looking at the books in his hands. He smiled wider. Oh yeah. He is cute.

"No, not for me."

I was suddenly at a loss for words. Must be lack of practice with dealing with the opposite sex.

"Oh, okay . . . I . . . well, if you want an opinion on both books, I . . . I can help."

His right eyebrow arched upward, and his eyes twinkled.

"You read Stephen King?" he asked, his voice a challenge. I bristled.

"Uh . . . duh! Of course! He happens to be one of my favorite authors!"

He looked disbelieving. I suddenly realized I sounded like someone who wanted to pick him up, and my old defenses shot up again. This was definitely not my intention.

"I'll leave you to it then," I said hurriedly. I paid for the notebook and pen that were in my hands at the moment and decided to get a caffeine fix at the coffee shop across the bookstore.

Belgian waffle or oatmeal cookie? I could only eat one because I had a dinner with friends in a few hours, and there was just one of each left at the counter display, but I couldn't decide, so I motioned the person behind me in the line to go ahead and order. While I was deciding, both waffle and cookie were taken from the display window.

Damn. That decided it. Just the iced mocha frap then.

I found an empty booth and slid in. I drank a fourth of my coffee and then took out my phone to check emails from work. I'm in brand management, and we were launching a new campaign for our assigned product. So many emails.

Without thinking, I also checked if there were any new messages from Kurt. He messaged me still constantly, though the frequency has tapered off in the last couple of months. I hoped that he had found a new woman to obsess over.

I drank more coffee, and I forked a piece of maple syrup–drenched waffle into my mouth—

What the—?

I looked up and locked gazes with the spectacled bookstore guy sitting across from me.

"Hi," he said, smiling his lopsided smile. "I hope you don't mind. There were no more available seats. And I took the liberty of buying both waffle and cookie for you so you wouldn't need to decide." He motioned to the waffle and cookie in separate plates in front of me.

I was speechless. On the one hand, flashes of Kurt stalking me came back and I was ready to bolt. But then, his smile was so disarming that I hesitated.

"Oh, and the book was supposed to be for a girl," he continued.

I found my voice.

"A girl . . .," I uttered, intrigued.

"Yeah. So we're going on our second date. It was a setup by well-meaning friends. She's great, by the way. Beautiful, sexy, intelligent, just a bit wary about dating because of a bad breakup."

"And you're giving her a Stephen King book because—?" I was liking this conversation. A lot.

He smiled mischievously.

"Okay, you'll think I'm weird."

I smiled. I took another mouthful of waffle and made a show of chewing, waiting for him to continue.

"Well, I am. Weird. Because I have this deal breaker. If a girl can't understand my love for all things SK, then it can't be long term."

I took a piece of cookie with my fingers and munched on it. I was suppressing a smile. I didn't do a good job of it because he smiled again.

"I've actually improved. Before, they had to go through The Tommyknockers before I'd even consider a commitment. But now, I'll settle for any SK book, or even short story. A few times, I accepted just watching an SK-inspired movie or TV series."

"What a cop-out . . .," I said. I remembered reading The Tommyknockers and having great difficulty finishing it, but I powered through and completed reading it because I loved the author. It remained to be my least favorite SK book. If I didn't like SK at all, I don't know if I would have finished it, and for a boy at that, but who knows, right?

"What?" he asked, his eyes twinkling.

"Give her The Gunslinger, and if she wants to read the entire series and actually finishes all seven books, you have yourself a keeper!"

He smiled wider. He took a piece of cookie from the plate, careful to stick to his side since I've already taken a piece from my side, and ate it.

"I'm Nick Roldan, by the way," he said, extending his hand.

"I'm Carrie Blanca," I said.

His eyebrow arched again.

"For real?" he asked excitedly. He was a Stephen King fan after all, so my name has a different significance to him.

I nodded. "For real."

We talked until the coffee shop closed. Suffice it to say that I wasn't able to meet my friends for dinner.