Page 17 of Player For Hire
As much as my system wanted the coffee, I couldn’t resist the winding staircase. Books lined every spare crevice with little trinkets on the shelves. A whole row of music boxes was offset by a scatter of crystals, and in the next bookcase, tarot cards were faced out to show off their shiny colors with books about all manner of divination right beside them. Oversized books were shelved with mass market and hardcovers in a delightful mishmash of color and topic.
A card catalog with the old-fashioned drawers seemed to be in actual use since people were flipping through them just like they were at an old school library. I reached out to touch a crystal dragon at the top of a shelf as I wound around the stairs.
It was a labyrinth of books and media that shouldn’t work. No retail space should be this chaotic and beautiful, but sure enough, there was a dewey decimal system that should match up with the card catalog on the bottom floor.
I was pretty sure it wasn’t the official one that I’d learned in library sciences, but it was charming and a great way to find things around the library-esque store. I finished climbing the steps and gasped at the top floor. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases lined the entire space. These were much more traditional with sections for fiction, non-fiction, and genre fiction. I was happy to see the genre fiction actually outnumbered the rest.
Fantasy, Romance, Sci-Fi, and Mystery dominated half of the room along with smaller sub-genres like Horror and the up-and-coming Romantasy—my current favorite.
Chunky tables lined the space with heavy chairs reminiscent of every library I’d been in as a kid. Instead of the dusty lamps I remembered, these had LED lamps and discreet plug-in strips for laptops. There was a hushed murmur of voices just like a library.
As if no one wanted to break the spell of the space.
“Third floor is the kids' floor,” Colder said from behind me.
I turned and pressed a hand to my chest, my heart skipping. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to leave you like that.”
“No problem. The Library Café has that effect on most people, but anyone who loves books…”
“Are you a reader?”
He lifted a shoulder. “A bit. Nothing fancy.”
I grinned as his cheeks reddened a little. “I read fantasy and romantasy.”
“Oh, yeah? I’m a fantasy guy. Wasn’t sure if you were more literary.” He cleared his throat. “Some of my coworkers give me shit about having my nose in my Kindle at work.”
I followed the signs for the fantasy section, and he followed behind me. “I love the feel of a book in my hands, but my reading app on my iPad does in a pinch. Especially when I’m not sure what I want to read. But these covers.”
“I don’t have much space in my studio apartment, so the Kindle usually does it for me. But I love to come up here and read sometimes. They don’t mind if you hang out.”
“I wouldn’t have taken you for a reader.” I winced. “Not that I mean?—”
“It’s okay. I get it. I learned to love reading from my mom. She loved music and books.” His eyes got a little sad before he swallowed hard. “Anyway, she used to bring me to the library since we didn’t have a lot of money. We’d spend the day sprawled out with books all around us then I’d check out the maximum allowed to make it through until the next Saturday morning.”
“That sounds like the best way to grow up. Sounds like your mom is amazing.”
“She was,” he said softly.
I touched his arm. “Oh, Colder, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Was a long time ago. But I still love to read. In fact, I re-read The Hobbit for her birthday every year.” He stepped back as if shocked he’d mentioned it. “Anyway, tell me what you want to drink, and I’ll go get us some coffee.”
“Oh, you don’t have to.”
“I insist. You can look around while I’m gone.”
“Okay, if you’re sure.” I dug into my bag.
“No, I got it. I asked you here.”
“It’s not a date.” I looked up at him. Was it a date? Was I that oblivious? No, there hadn’t been an explicit asking. Just two people going to the same place.
Like a date, dumbass.
“Just two friends. I think we’re becoming friends.” That dimple again. How was I supposed to hold out against that dimple? “So what’s your poison?”
“Anything chocolate and espresso.”