Page 70 of Not on the Same Page

He has no idea how much I hope he’s right.

Even though I have about a hundred other things to do, I only spend half the day in the office. I work until Trina occupies almost every spare inch of my mind and I can’t concentrate anymore. I leave five unread emails in my inbox and a half-edited chapter on my screen, close up shop, and walk out for lunch with the intention of not returning until tomorrow.

The whole drive back into the city, I’m writing and revising what I’m going to say to her in my head. Nothing I land on feels quite right. I want to tell her I’m falling for her—that’s the only thing that seems even remotely close to the truth, but I’m sure that will scare her away. She and I agreed this thing between us was going to be physical and nothing more. When I tried broaching the subject last time, she balked, but I wouldn’t be happy with only her body forever. I want her mind and her heart. I wanted those things a year ago—I started to hope there was a way before we broke things off—and it turns out this time is no different.

I owe her the truth. I just have to find a way to deliver it to her that doesn’t make her shut down or shut me out.

Needing to clear my head, I opt for public transit to her apartment, getting off a few stops before I normally would. It’s a hot day, so I take my time, allowing myself to take in the sights.

As I slowly round the corner of the public library building, I’m met with tables of books and an older woman who is wiping her brow with a handkerchief.

“Hello,” she says cheerily. “How are you today?”

I pause to peruse everything that’s laid out. I can never resist looking at books. “Good, how about yourself?”

“Wonderful. Today is our Friends of the Library book sale. Feel free to look around. Paperbacks are fifty cents, hardcovers are one dollar,” she tells me. “All proceeds go to support the public library.”

I pick up a middle grade paperback that has definitely seen better days and flip through the pages. A few are dog eared, and there’s the remnants of a crude drawing on the inside back cover. Chuckling to myself, I put it back down, idly wondering if one of Imani’s books might meet the same fate one day. I kind of hope it does. Having a tween or teen deface your book feels like a certain rite of passage.

“Thanks,” I say as I take a few steps toward the more adult books. There’s less of a chance of finding a crude drawing in those, but still not zero.

I’m about ready to give up when a book catches my eye—the hardcover edition of the one I bought when I ran into Trina at the airport. Ryan said to bring food, but there’s no way I can pass this up.

I rummage around in my wallet for cash and hand the woman a ten. “It’s a donation,” I say, and she smiles widely as she tucks the bill into the cash box on the table.

With the book under my arm, I walk a little faster to Trina’s place, completely forgoing my plan for food in my haste to get to her.

For all my musing and thinking on the way over here, I am completely unprepared when Trina answers the door. She’s dressed in a tight black tank top, very short green athletic shorts with a white stripe down either side, and black socks that bunch up at her ankles. Half of her hair is pulled up into a messy bun on the very top of her head, and the rest falls to her shoulders in waves. She’s completely bare faced, not even sporting her signature red lipstick, and I can see a faint smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose.

She’s more stunning than any time I’ve ever seen her, hands down. She completely takes my breath away.

“Casey?” Her eyebrows pinch together, somehow making her even more adorable than she was a moment ago. “What are you doing here?”

I’m so disoriented that I automatically hold up my gift like I’m some kind of puppet on a string. “I brought you a book,” I say stupidly.

Her lips curl up into a lopsided smile as she holds the door open farther so I can pass into her apartment. “In that case, come on in.”

Even bounding up the stairs to her apartment shouldn’t make me as breathless as I am. I’m not the nervous type, nor am I the type to prepare sprawling, romantic speeches. It’s her. She does this to me. And I can’t say I don’t like it.

“What kind of book did you bring me?” Her voice is teasing, lilting. She has no idea about the war playing out inside my head. She probably thinks I’m only here to fuck her, and that realization punches me in the gut.

Unable to get words out, I simply hand it to her. She takes it from me and sits on her sofa, laying the book on her lap and looking at it. Her playful smile falters a bit as she runs her hand over the crinkly plastic that the library used to laminate the dust jacket.

“You got me a library book?” she asks softly. Her hazel eyes turn upward to meet mine in question.

Not sure if I should sit next to her, I lean against her counter and shove my hands in my pockets. “I passed by the library on my way here. They were doing their book sale on the sidewalk, and I remember you saying you wanted to read that one.”

She turns her gaze back down to the book in her lap, running her delicate fingers over the cover and spine. “I love library books,” she says so quietly I almost miss it.

“You said you were going to visit the library in Denver.”

Her head snaps up, brows deeply furrowed. “You remember that?”

When I nod, she drops her gaze back to her lap. She swallows audibly, tracing the words of the title on the cover. “I…” Her chest rises and falls a little more rapidly. I don’t dare move one muscle. It’s clear she’s struggling with words, and not one thing I rehearsed on the way over here is more important than whatever she wants to tell me right now.

Opening the book and flipping through the pages, she sighs. “Did I ever tell you I spent most of my life living with my aunt?” Without looking at me, she huffs a breathy laugh. “Of course I never told you that. I don’t talk about it. It wasn’t bad or anything, it just…” She finally looks up at me and shrugs.

Her hands tense on top of the book in her lap, so I cross to the sofa and sit next to her. Her shoulders relax a little.