Chapters 11-17 have been rewritten to improve story flow and pacing. [June 27, 2024]
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The n at the door look related. So related that I'd bet they're twins.
"Hi," the one on the left says, with a charming smile. They have close-cropped brown hair and twinkling brown eyes, with popular kid in high school written all over them. They have to be in their mid-twenties now, though.
"Hi," I respond, with so suspicion. Is this that legendary thing called solicitation? Are they here to sell sothing?
If so, they're screwed. Selene got to my wallet first.
"Mrs. Elkins sent us," the guy on the right says, and I turn my gaze to him, relaxing a little.
"Oh?" Mrs. Elkins wouldn't just send soone without warning .
Checking my phone, I see a missed text.
[MRS. ELKINS: Don't forget that Ben and Franklin are coming to help put up so shelves in the living room. You can send them away if you're not up to it.]
Oh, right. I vaguely recall so conversation like that last week. Probably sothing I should have added to my phone so I wouldn't be surprised at a ti like this.
"The shelves," I say, glancing back up.
Both of them smile. They're identical, though one's a little more burly and the other wears glasses. "I'm Ben," the one with glasses offers, turning up the wattage of his grin.
"Franklin," the other supplies, reaching out to shake my hand. He has a wedding ring. The other doesn't. "My wife is Mrs. Elkin's grand-niece."
Ah, they're family.
Much more at ease now, I step back to invite them in. Selene gives them both a quick once-over, yawns, and jumps onto the couch, pawing at sothing black.
"Looks like you're dogs a bit of a couch potato," Ben says with a laugh.
When I look closer, I can see that Selene's got her paws on the remote. I can see how that's amusing; the idea of a dog who watches TV would make laugh, too.
Still, no part of reacts to that lightly flirtatious laugh or the interested glances he sends my way. He's just a guy.
I guess Alphahole Lucas Westwood has ruined for romance.
Rubbing that familiar pain in my sternum, we glance through a few of the boxes to figure out how many shelves we need.
There are at least fifteen boxes of books, and—as it turns out—I don't feel like parting with any of them.
Who gets rid of books?
So of them are old and well-worn. Others are brand new, probably old overstock for the store.
Franklin pulls out a tape asure, jotting down so numbers as he assesses the living room walls. "Alright, so if we put the tall shelves against this wall, we can probably fit the short ones under the window. How's that sound?"
I nod, impressed by his spatial awareness. "That works for . I'm not picky, as long as they're sturdy enough to hold all these books."
Ben chis in, "Oh, don't worry about that. We'll make sure they're anchored well. Wouldn't want any accidents." He flashes a friendly smile, but it lacks the flirtatious edge from earlier. Seems he's picked up on my disinterest.
As they get to work, I sort through the boxes, organizing the books by genre. It's a daunting task, but there's sothing satisfying about handling each book, deciding where it belongs. Fiction, non-fiction, classics, contemporary... the piles grow steadily.
Hours pass in a blur of asuring, drilling, and sorting. Selene dozes on the couch, unbothered by the commotion.
I'm surprised by my own energy, considering the fever still simrs under my skin. But there's a buzzing in my veins, a sense of purpose that keeps going.
Finally, the shelves are up, and most of the books are in place. I step back, admiring the transformation. What was once a bare living room now feels like a cozy library, ready for rainy day reading sessions.
"Looks great, doesn't it?" Franklin grins, wiping his brow.
"It really does. Thank you both so much." Gratitude swells in my chest. These strangers, now tentative friends, have given more than just shelves. They've helped build a ho.
As they pack up their tools, Franklin reaches into his pocket. "Oh, before I forget—my wife wanted to give you this." He hands a colorful flyer. "We host a weekly barbecue over the sumr, kind of a community thing. You're more than welco to join us."
I take the flyer, touched by the gesture. "That's so kind of you. I'll definitely try to make it."
Ben nods, shouldering his toolbox. "It's a great way to et people. And the food's not bad either." He winks, but it's more friendly than flirty.
After a round of goodbyes and more thank yous, I close the door behind them. Leaning against it, I let out a long breath. The apartnt feels different now. Not just because of the shelves, but because of what they represent. A fresh start, a chance to build sothing of my own.
Selene stretches on the couch, blinking at sleepily. I laugh softly, crossing the room to join her. "Lazy pup. You slept through all the hard work."
She yawns, nuzzling into my hand as I pet her. For a mont, I let my mind wander. I think of Ben, of his easy smiles and helpful deanor. In another life, maybe I would have been drawn to him. But now...
I sigh, shaking my head. Lucas Westwood. Even here, hundreds of miles away, he haunts . The mory of his touch, his scent, the way he looked at , is seared into my soul. And the way he looked at after—
No. I can't think about that. I won't let him ruin this for , this fragile new life I'm building.
Romance isn't in the cards for , not now. Maybe not ever. And that's okay.
Selene whines softly, as if sensing my lancholy. I scratch behind her ears, forcing a smile. "We've got each other, right? That's enough."
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