Page 41 of Library or Lattes?

Harvest Festival was as happy as ever. The air smelled like woodsmoke and cider and Mrs. Burrows’s famous pies. Music drifted from the bandstand, some group that Krista’s mom had hired, and kids shrieked with laughter on hayrides that rattled past every ten minutes.

For the rest of the night, though, there was a tension between James and me that hadn’t been there since that first day in the coffee shop. I handed people costumes, fixed the way they were standing, and made jokes to make them smile. James took the photos, never even looking at me.

By ten o’clock the crowds started to thin, and parents carried sleepy children toward the parking lot. The band packed up and Mrs. Burrows wrapped up her last few pies.

Our photo booth line had finally disappeared, and we’d sold out of food and drinks. James was packing up the camera equipment and Krista and Avery were counting money from the cider stall. They both looked exhausted, in a good way. Lennie stood at the edge of the stall, looking exhausted, but not in a good way. I was about to go over to her to find out what had happened when I spotted Sara walking across the square with her family. They stopped at the almost-empty pie stand, and I watched as Sara glanced over at us. At Lennie. She looked away quickly when her mom said something, and my heart ached for my best friend.

Meanwhile, James packed everything away effortlessly. I tried not to get distracted by how good he looked in his cozy sweater, which made me ache to hug him. But why was he acting like this? Quiet. Confusing. Unreadable.

James had started taking down the canopy above us. The last sellers were packing up, the families were going home, and suddenly I remembered that Pop had said he was going to come. I’d been looking forward to taking a cute photo with him in the booth, but someone must have called with some sort of home emergency.

I started counting the money we’d made, and I couldn’t believe it. Forgetting the weird tension between me and James, I squealed: “We made more tonight than we do in a whole weekend!” I jumped into his arms, and he folded them around me. For a second I was looking down at him, as if we were about to kiss again, bad vibes forgotten. He held me easily with one arm as he reached up and brushed some hair from my face gently with the other, sending shock waves through my whole body. Neither of us spoke.

Then he cleared his throat and put me down, as if he’d just remembered something.

“Thank you for your contribution tonight,” he said. Formally.

“No worries?” I replied. Confused. Embarrassed. My heart still racing, a thousand beats an hour.

6 Library

THE NEXT MORNING, I texted Lennie.

Me: Hey, heard the Hawks won? How was the party?

Lennie is typing

Then she stopped.

Maybe she fell asleep again?

I took a shower, then spent forever teasing my hair into its perfect, perfectly undone waves with these cute tongs that Krista had given me for short hair. I put on my red lipstick again and found a ruffled white shirt at the bottom of my wardrobe. I paired it with a plain brown skirt I didn’t even remember buying. I was being serious now, and I wanted to look the part. I glanced in the mirror, pleased with myself. I loved how the red lipstick made me look so different. Not like Oak Falls Willa, but someone who drank espresso and cared about politics. Someone Theo might like.

I rushed out the door before Pop could ask any questions about my new look. I knew he’d comment on it, and he’d be really nice. Tell me he liked it, how it looked great. But he would also be wondering why I was making so much effort for a trip to the library. And I didn’t really want to explain it, to him or to myself.

I stopped at the coffee shop on the way to the library. I bought two black coffees (adding three sugars to mine before I even tasted it) and took quick purposeful strides down Main Street.

At the library, Jo gave me a look as I walked in with the coffees. It was technically against the rules to eat and drink, but she just smiled and went back to her work.

Theo was already sitting in our spot, wearing a white shirt under a navy sweater. I watched him for a second, how he pushed his glasses up his nose when he was deep in concentration.

“Hey,” I whispered, sliding his coffee across the table.

He looked up and I watched the corners of his mouth twitch, like he was trying his best not to smile. “Hey, Doc.” I was minding the stupid nickname less, I noticed. “What sugary concoction did you bring me today?”

“Actually, it’s black coffee,” I said, smiling smugly.

“Oh, really? You like black coffee?” he asked, taking the warm cup I handed him.

“You said thanks wrong.” I sat down on the other side of the desk.

“You’re right. Sorry. Thanks. Just thought you were less black coffee, and more … triple-shot pumpkin dream latte with caramel drizzle.”

I could be black coffee if I wanted. I silently congratulated myself on adding so much sugar in advance.

“Nice outfit,” he said, scanning me up and down. I could feel his eyes tracing my body like fingertips.

Heat flooded through me. I hated that my body betrayed me like that, like it was just ignoring all the other signals in my brain.