Chapter 2

"Val, where are you?" I called, tripping over a thick book of Sylvia Plath's poetry. "Oh, here it is." I picked up the book and flipped it open.

"Here's what?" Val entered the room, nearly falling over a boxed set of classic novels that I'd gotten on discount from the Abbey Bookstore. "Ouch!" she yelped, stubbing her bare foot heel on the wall. Ariadne! Stop leaving your stupid books around!"

I gasped, holding a hand to my heart. "How could you say such a thing about my darlings?" I swooped down on the books and clutched them to my chest, glaring at her. "It's okay," I said to them, sweeping a hand over their beautiful cracked spines. "She didn't mean it."

Val made a gagging noise. "How was writing class?"

"Weird." After the initial strangeness, Ethan had actually woken up, though that hadn't really changed anything, seeing as all he did was lean over our shoulders and bark insults. The direction of most of his attention had been at the scrawny high schooler, Uriah. I was pretty sure everybody knew his name now after all of Ethan's skullduggery.

Ethan had commanded us to call him Mr. Thorne, but if he was going to be Ethan to everyone else, he'd be Ethan to me. Also, I enjoyed the sense of irony I got whenever I said his name.

"How was…whatever you did today?" I couldn't keep my head straight with everything Val did. By dawn, she was the bratty activist protesting in front of the forest, but by evening, she was daring businesswoman working at one of the largest firms in the state. Val was the only one who considered such a blatant hypocrisy a "balance."

"Considered chaining myself to a tree," she said lightly.

Sylvia Plath fell from my hands and landed with a sad thump on the floor, creating huge puffs of dust. I coughed. "What?"

"I'm telling you, that's the only way to get their attention," she said angrily. "Otherwise, they drill right past you."

"But, Val, you can't…Isn't Freidan Enterprises going to have a problem with your activities?"

"They don't care," she said, waving a dismissive hand. "Their blissful ignorance is directly proportional to how much their stocks are worth. So right now, I could go set the Empire State Building on fire, and they wouldn't even look up from their briefcases."

"If you say so," I said dubiously, picking my way across the scattered books to get to my tiny room. Our flat was a typical one, cramped and only big enough to breathe in. The fact that I liked dumping whatever books I'd finished reading wherever I want always had Val threatening to stop paying the other half of rent. I'd stopped doing it after my toe had caught on the edge of a hardbound War and Peace. The swelling hadn't gone down for a week.

"How was class weird?" Val continued as I crawled over our solitary overstuffed couch to place my books in the bookshelf.

"The teacher was there as an ornament or something, I don't know. And the people were strange." Except for that one guy. Actually, he was pretty strange, too, for approaching me and talking like we were best buds. Maybe he was used to picking up girls that way.

Pride welled up in me, and I grinned. Served him right for inviting me to coffee. Someone that looked like that needed a little rejection to spice up the day.

Just as abruptly, the feeling went away and I frowned. If I didn't have trust issues, I would have loved to go to coffee with someone like him.

"Rad, what are you doing? Rad? Rad."

"Huh?" My head snapped up, and I hit it on the bookshelf. "Ow."

Val shook her head. "Not my fault. What was that face for?"

"What face?"

"I can't do it as well as you." Val contorted her face.

"You look constipated."

"Well, that's what you looked like. Just less ugly." She smoothed her golden hair back, and I raised my eyebrows.

"News flash, Val. Men love tall, leggy, and blonde."

"I'm not leggy." She pinched her thighs. "Look, I do this thing where I slap my leg and see how many times the fat jiggles. You know what I learned from that? I am definitely not leggy."

I wrinkled my nose. "Remember not to share that on the first date."

She rolled her eyes. "I'm an independent woman. Besides, you're not so bad yourself. You're blonde, too. Now, what's wrong?" At the look on my face, she grinned. "You didn't think I'm that easily dissuaded, did you?"

"It's nothing," I said quickly, eager to get away from my thoughts.

"Okay," she allowed, still eyeing me. "But if you need to talk, I'm here."

"You've made that obvious. I keep finding your bras in my clothes. I am very aware of your presence. Oh, and your size." I wiggled my eyebrows. "C cup."

"That's where they went," she grumbled. "I've got about two hours before work. Do you want to get some coffee? Lattes. My treat."

I brightened. "Sure. Can we stop by the Abbey on our way there?"

Val snorted. "Do you even need to ask me that anymore?"

"No." I shoved the books into their shelves and hopped from the couch, nearly twisting my ankle in the process. "Let's go!"

Val followed, rolling her eyes.

Gina's Café was located just the right distance, far enough so I felt like I was exercising and working off the delicious whipped cream lattes, but close enough that I didn't work up a sweat. The inside was sunny and bright, with windows open on all sides and green and purple couches scattered everywhere.

"Ariadne," Gina said smilingly when I entered the shop. She knew I loved her white chocolate whipped cream lattes and remembered me because of it; people usually shied away from all the white. Not me. I would worry about dying of diabetes when I was old and stiff. The time to enjoy the small gifts of life was now—I'd been reminded of it too much.

"Hi, Gina," I said, smiling. "The usual."

She winked at me. Her hair was streaked with gray, but her face was unlined, and I suspected she looked way younger than her actual age, which she kept a secret from all of us. "And you?" she asked Val, looking at her critically as she tied her dark purple apron around her waist. "Would you like one, too? Or another one of those disgusting iced teas?"

"Gina," I said, "You do know that you're the one selling them, right?"

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," she grumbled. "Besides, I'm selling for them for the people who desperately need to lose weight. Not girls like Valerie."

We both stared at Valerie, in her shorts and skin-tight tank top. She struck a model pose. "Like what you see?"

"Someone who's that concerned about how much she weighs should not be so egotistic," I said to Gina, who nodded conspiratorially.

"Oh, please," Valerie said, tossing her hair. "I'm telling you right now, I haven't got any of Ariadne's charm."

"That might be true," Gina conceded. Then they both looked at me, and I held my hands up in front of me.

"When did this get to be about me?"

"Just look at you," Valerie said, doing a sweep towards my body. "You've got the cute, helpless thing down. Like Cinderella or something."

"I. Don't. Read. Fairytales," I said contemptuously.

"Fine. Then…like Emily. From Pride and Prejudice by that chick with a lot of sisters and free time."

"Jane Austen. And her name was Elizabeth, not Emily. And Elizabeth didn't get Darcy through helpless charm. In fact, she—"

"Close enough." Valerie waved me off. "The point is you don't even have to try. All you have to do is flash that smile at some poor, unsuspecting fellow, and he falls all over your feet." She sighed dramatically. "All I can do is flash leg."

"Which you're very good at," I assured her.

Gina shook her head, eyeing me judgmentally.

"What?"

"Both of you have problems. You," she said, stabbing a finger at Valerie, "are completely ungrateful for what the good Lord has gifted you with. Which is a rocking body." I gaped at her, and she snapped, "Just because I'm old doesn't mean I can't use the same lingo as the rest of you. And don't even get me started on you."

"What's that supposed to mean?" My defenses started rising again, and I knew Valerie was looking at me curiously.

Gina sighed, her voice softening. "You won't give yourself to anyone or take anything in return."

"Get back to your customers, Gina." I pointed at an elderly man standing in front of the counter, mouthing off all of the drinks on the menu. He looked very scholarly, considering his glasses and the bundle of papers sticking out of his back pocket. "That guy needs help. I don't."

He jumped, noticing I was addressing him, and waved his hands quickly. "No, I don't. I'm still looking." I saw him look back at Gina before turning back to the menu again.

Gina raised an eyebrow at him and whispered to me, "Good call." And I knew we were okay again when she slid Valerie and I our drinks. "It's on the house." Then she straightened her spine and grinned brilliantly. "I'm going to help a customer. Enjoy the drinks, ladies."

I picked up my white chocolate whipped cream latte and slurped loudly, needing the sugar rush to get my mind off of what had happened. I didn't need people who barely knew me reminding me of something that I'd spent my entire life trying to forget. The fact that Gina could tell so much told me that I was too transparent. Despite everything, that side of me that wished on dandelions and blew bubbles wouldn't disappear.

"Hey." Val nudged me. "Since Gina gave us the drinks free, I'll use the money I was about to spend on them to buy you new books. How about it?"

That was the thing about Val. She got it. I didn't know how, but she did.

"Only if they have new poetry shipments," I replied, trying to seem grumpy but failing, and returning her smile instead.

There were people who passed the Abbey Bookstore and never really saw it at all for all their lives. But if there was one redeeming quality about me, it was my observational skills. The first time I'd walked this street and seen the Abbey Bookstore, lit up in all its dilapidated glory, I'd basically gotten a literature-induced orgasm. Outside, the windows were cracked, and the wooden sign was small with faded ink.

But inside. Inside was what I imagined paradise looked like. Shelves full of books that stretched up to the ceiling. The delicious smell of new pages and old leather. If I could remodel heaven, I would base the plans on the inside of the Abbey Bookstore.

Who cared if it looked like a store that had been taken out of the hood and transported here? Who cared when it had so many books that it could throw them up and still have a hundred thousand left?

God, I loved this place.

Valerie saw the half-manic look in my eyes and said, "I'll be in the magazine aisle." Then she left quickly, probably so she wouldn't be hit in the crosshairs of my lust.

Reverently, I entered the store, sliding my fingers against the worn wood shelves. I decided that rubbing my cheek against them would be overdoing it, but oh, how I wanted to.

My world. These books were my world. No matter what happened, nobody could take them away from me. There were always illegal download sites for PDFs online, even when I was too broke to purchase. That was why books were the most dependable objects in the world. That, and paperweights. Those, you could find anywhere.

My gaze zeroed in on the shelf of first editions that sat near the back of the store. I'd been checking the shelf every week in hopes of finding something of Oscar Wilde or Jules Verne, but I'd come up with nothing.

"See anything you like?"

I jumped at the deliciously smooth but frighteningly familiar voice.

"Relax," the guy from my writing class whose name I still didn't know said, holding up his hands. "It's just me."

I gaped at him before blurting, "What are you doing here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" He raised a book, his bright smile contrasting sharply with his honey skin. "Reading."

"But why…here?"

"Am I not allowed to be here?"

I shook my head slowly. "No…"

His grin widened. "No, I'm not allowed to be here?"

"No…I mean, yes," I sputtered. "Yes, you're allowed to be here."

"For someone who seems so obsessed with words, you don't seem to be very eloquent with them," he said with a small smile.

"Just because I can write them doesn't mean I can say them," I mumbled, turning away from him.

"Hey," he said, reaching a hand out before withdrawing it before it touched my shoulder. "I didn't mean anything by that. I'm sure you could give a killer speech if you wanted to."

"Yeah." If I wanted to.

He frowned. "I never got your name, by the way. Ethan doesn't believe in roll call, and I'm suffering for it."

I dawdled, not wanting to give him my name. That was the thing about names. Once someone knew yours, they'd use it. And you wouldn't think about it twice before turning around if someone called your name. I didn't want to give someone that sort of control. Valerie would have rolled her eyes about my intense psychoanalysis. It's just a name, Rad, she would say. But my name was a part of my person, a label for me. I didn't want to give away with the freedom that others did. Juliet said, "What's in a name?" But Juliet was an idiot who didn't believe in less dramatic ways of solving family issues.

"If you don't want to tell me…" He raised his eyebrows. "I'll find out soon."

"I doubt it," I muttered.

"You underestimate how far I'll go to research things I'm interested in." He waggled his eyebrows. "And I'm interested in you."

"That's nice," I said, trying to seem like it didn't matter that someone who looked like him had just said he found me interesting. "If you'll excuse me…"

"I can take messages," he said, "but I rarely accept them."

"I just want to get to the first edition shelves," I said, hoping my apathy would drive him away.

"There aren't any new shipments."

"How would you know that?" I snapped.

"I work here."

Speechless, I stared at him. "How did you get a job here?" I asked, struggling to keep the reverence and jealousy out of my voice.

He shrugged. "It's my charm, I guess. Works every time."

I rolled my eyes. "They told me they weren't hiring new people!"

"Exactly. New people."

It dawned on me. "You've worked here before?"

"Correction. I was here since it opened."

"That's…impossible."

"Granted, I was pretty young. But I like to think that we've been through a bunch of trials together." He patted the shelves lovingly. "Including my parents wanting to sell it off. But I convinced them otherwise."

"You own it?"

"Uh huh."

"Why haven't I seen you around here before then?"

He was silent, and I waited. If he wanted to see who'd crack first, it definitely wouldn't be me.

"You won't even tell me your name, so I'm not obligated to tell you anything about my family," he finally said shortly.

"You're right." I backed away from him.

"Just tell me your name," he wheedled.

"Why?"

"I want to know if it's as beautiful as you are," he replied, his eyes bright and eager.

"Well, too bad." Being around this guy was a total ego booster. I definitely needed to avoid him.

"Ariadne, you ready to go?" Valerie asked, appearing at my shoulder.

"Ha!" he said, grinning victoriously at me. "Now I know. And I didn't even have to grovel."

I glared at Valerie, but she was too busy sizing up the guy. "Who's this?" she asked me, a mildly suggestive tone to her voice, like she already knew who he was but was putting me through needless torture because I hadn't told her sooner.

"I don't know," I said.

"What?" Val asked confusedly.

"I'm Raphael," the guy said, holding out his hand. Classmate to your lovely friend Ariadne. Nice to meet you."

"Raphael." Valerie tested the name approvingly before grasping his hand. "I'm Valerie, but you can call me Val. And this sulky beauty is Ariadne, although we all call her Rad."

"I don't know about sulky, but you've got the second part right," he said, looking straight at me.

Valerie made a hmming noise. "What do you study?"

"Stuff." He grinned. "Does it matter much in the larger scheme of things?"

"No, I guess not. I like that philosophy. Nothing matters much." Val glanced at me, noted the look on my face, and said, "It's been great to meet you, Raphael, but we've got somewhere to be."

I stuck to her side, not looking at him.

"I'll see you in class, Ariadne," Raphael called as I followed Valerie out.

The moment we were out of his view, Valerie squeezed my arm so hard that I almost yelped. I yanked my arm out of her grasp and glared at her. "What?"

"Why didn't you tell me that a real life romance hero was in your class?"

As if I didn't have enough reason to avoid Raphael. Now he was being compared to the shirtless men on trashy romance novel covers.

"I didn't know his name." Raphael. Raphael. Like the angel Raphael, who warned Adam about the Tree of Knowledge in Paradise Lost. Or the painter.

Or the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle.

"That's not a good reason!" Valerie hissed. "Look at him! Have you looked at him? He's obviously interested in you, and he's hot."

"You say that like there aren't many hot men in the world."

"That's the thing. There aren't," she said. "And he was in the bookstore. Your favorite place in the world. The place of your wet dreams. Also, he's oozing money. I can just tell by looking at him. He didn't want to say what he was studying because he didn't want to drive you off with cockiness. Did you see his jeans? He's either gay, or he knows what he's doing. And you're running away from him like he's a badly written young adult novel!"

"Val, I'm not interested."

"Rad." She stopped us in the middle of the street, and irritated pedestrians streamed around us. "You're not interested because you don't want to be."

"Leave me alone about it," I said, pinning her with a look. "I don't want to talk about it."

Val shut up, but not before she gave me a condemning glare. "He said you were beautiful," she said quietly. Then she stomped ahead, leaving me behind.

I stared at my melted white chocolate whipped cream latte and cursed, dropping it into the trashcan.