Between the Stacks

Chapter 30

I internally chanted dinner, dinner, dinner as our group of presenters escaped into the street. I wanted to dive into the nearest fast food restaurant and order the greasiest thing on the menu. Chicken fingers, fries, hamburgers - they drifted across my vision like an oasis in the desert. Then I hyper-focused on the fact that desert sounded like dessert. Chocolate cake. Doughnuts. Lemon pie.

We passed by countless bars and restaurants. Caroline, the self-appointed leader of the group, kept swearing we were close to this amazing Spanish restaurant she'd once tried. "It's just a little further," she promised. "Super close, you guys."

"We can bail," Wesley said into my ear. He was so tall that he had to duck a little bit. He grabbed my waist to pull me closer at the same time. "Who knows if this place even exists."

"We can't be rude," I said. I leaned into him, purportedly to dodge an overflowing garbage can, when really I just wanted to feel his body pressed to mine.

"We'll never see these people again." His tone was light and buoyant; he was clearly riding the wave of his incredible presentation. My jealousy had long since been replaced by hunger.

"That's not true. Libraries are a small word."

"A small, freaky world."

Caroline finally found her restaurant tucked away on a side street lined with impressively large trees. "Ta-da!" she said, impressed with herself. "Told you it was just down the block."

It had taken twenty-five minutes to walk here, and I was so hungry I contemplated murder, although I thought it would be little unprofessional of me.

The restaurant itself was quaint and cute, decorated with homemade pictures from the owners' kids. I was enjoying the colorful décor until I opened the laminated menu. There were only six options, and they were all tapas.

"Why don't we all share?" Caroline asked, and the murder option once again flashed in my mind.

I normally like miniature things, and I enjoy the concept of tapas in general: who wouldn't want tasty, bite-sized appetizers? We would need to order an embarrassing amount of food, especially if we were sharing.

Underneath the table, Wesley kicked my foot. I'm not sure if he was laughing at me or pitying me.

After putting in our group order with the waiter, I sat back in my chair, and wondered if it would be tacky to ask for free bread.

---

In the end, dinner wasn't so bad. The food itself was incredible: spicy patatas bravas, marinated olives, glazed chorizo. Caroline didn't deserve my hatred after all, even if I was still a tad hungry. But the edge was taken off, and I could at least converse with the others without snapping their heads off. The conversation quickly spread beyond library topics and into more pressing matters, such as the hottest fictional characters. I blushed into my meal, remembering a similar conversation with Wesley.

Our portion of the bill was thankfully covered by Lakshmi. Caroline suggested that we head back to the conference - the evening's boozy entertainment was a game of slide roulette. Wesley had to fill me in: each participant was given a PowerPoint they'd never seen before, and they had to come up with a presentation on the spot. Topics could range from social services in libraries to why dolphins were the ocean's best animal.

"Everyone gets smashed on the free drinks," Wesley said, once we were back out on the sidewalk. The sky was the cotton candy color that I loved so much. "I don't think anyone would notice if we weren't there."

That was all the encouragement I needed. We ended up saying goodbye there on the street corner, as the other presenters turned back towards the conference centre. We all promised to stay in touch even though we definitely wouldn't. Caroline wiggled her eyebrows at me as we waved goodbye.

Wesley turned to me as soon as the group disappeared down the street. "Would you like me to absolutely blow your mind?"

That hadn't been what I was expecting. "How can I say no to that?"

"Good. It's an adventure." He grabbed my hand and guided me down the sidewalk.

Something had changed. I'd been so focused on my own presentation - and Wesley's rock star performance - that I hadn't paid much attention when he'd grabbed my waist earlier. That could have been an unconscious movement. But grabbing my hand felt more deliberate. More intimate.

I couldn't help but laugh; here I was, imagining hand-holding as intimate as if I were a character from a Jane Austen novel. Perhaps if he was lucky, Wesley would see my ankle tonight.

He kept holding my hand as we ended up on a busier street; we weaved through tourists and locals and made our way further away from the glittering skyscrapers behind us. I hadn't been to Toronto in a while; I forgot how many people there were, and how loud everything was, as if the volume of life had been turned up to its maximum volume.

"We could take the bus, but then we'd miss all this," Wesley said, gesturing broadly. The shops selling samosas, the rumble of the subway underneath us, the laughter of two women on a bench. I knew, suddenly, that Wesley had never stopped being a city boy. I racked my head and couldn't think of whether or not I'd ever asked him if he liked living in Cherryhill.

"It's just a little further," he said. "Oh God, I sound like Caroline. I promise I'm telling the truth."

"I'm less hungry now. Less murdery," I said, and I was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

I was tempted to close my eyes and pretend I was in Vancouver. They might have been on opposite sides of the countries, but the two cities have the same heartbeat: millions of people pressed together, doing their best to get by. I had forgotten how much I enjoyed being in the presence of so much humanity.

There was no ocean breeze here, although the lake wasn't too far away. But the honking of the cars, the smells wafting out of restaurants, the multitudes of languages coming from pedestrians - I hadn't realized how much I missed it.

Then I thought about Alex, and my parents, and I knew I could never move here - let alone back to Vancouver.

I didn't want to invite myself to a pity party. The important thing was that I was here with Wesley, and it was important to focus on the moment-

"We're here," Wesley said as we turned onto a new street.

"Are you serious?" I gaped.

My brain needed a few moments to catch up to what I was experiencing: an explosion of light and color with tinny music and the unmistakable scent of caramel. A rainbow Ferris wheel turned slowly, the lights reflecting off the windows of nearby buildings. Familiar music drifted towards us from the merry-go-round. An inflatable bouncy castle appeared over the tops of stands selling popcorn and kettle corn. Kids walked around with massive stuffed animals.

"A carnival!" I said, as if it wasn't obvious. "This is unreal. I feel like I'm in one of those Hallmark movies."

I was tempted to run across the street to join the lineup. Wesley, who didn't want to get squished by a car, gently guided me to the stoplight. "If it was one of those movies, you'd be the one running the carnival. Probably to save a small-town business. Maybe a bakery."

"Good point," I said, already eyeing the snack carts behind the gate. By the time we arrived at the front of the line, I was ready to throw away any amount of money for a ticket. The carnival was the perfect solution to the end of two stressful days.

"This is a thank you, by the way," Wesley said. We were standing just beyond the front entrance. He grabbed both my hands, and my stomach felt like being on the Tilt-a-Whirl right next to us: exhilarating, but also panicky. "Last night was terrible, and you were there for me. I saw an article about this place, and I thought it would be perfect - especially because I know you're still hungry."

I couldn't help but laugh. "How could you possibly know that?"

He nudged me with his shoulder. "Because you've been aggressively eyeing that popcorn stand since we got here. It's my treat."

I was reminded of the story of Wendy in the clouds: I felt like magic as I soared through the crowd, past the flashing lights and blaring music. The world was neon-tinged, something electric and alive. I was in this candy-coated oasis, young and alive and with a boy holding my hand. I didn't know where the night would take us, but there was no anxiety in the thought - just a restless excitement for the evening.