I sat at the corner table in the bookshop, the one right by the large window looking out onto the street. It was where I always sat on saturday afternoon, my coffee resting in front of me. Of course, it was always semi cold when I actually got to drinking it; usually I’d be too immersed in whatever book had caught my attention that week.
That saturday, it happened to be the Fault in Our Stars by John Green. Of course I’d read it before, but I couldn’t help but revisit it every once in a while. As my eyes scanned the text, taking in the story of Augustus and Hazel, the chair in front of me screeched.
Assuming someone was just taking the chair to another table, I didn’t give much thought to it. However, when I heard someone drop into it, I put my book down.
In front of me was a boy with eyes that could only be described as an ocean storm behind the frames of his thick glasses.
I blinked a few times. “Um, hi.”
He smirked at me and said, “Hi yourself. Mind if I sit here?”
“Well you sort of already are.”
I must’ve caught him by surprise or something, because he looked at me with the expression of a confused puppy. He glanced at my book on the table.
“John Green, eh?” He picked it up and studied the cover.
Who did this guy think he was, touching my stuff? I didn’t even know his name!
“Yeah, actually.” I said, taking the book from him and hiding it on my lap.
He smirked again. “You know the guy dies in the end, right?”
My jaw dropped. Seriously, who was this guy?!
“Oops, spoiler alert.” he said smugly. Asshole.
“I know what happens,” I snapped, “but it’s pretty rude to ruin a book for someone, even if they’ve already read it.”
“Why?” he asked. I think the legitimate curiosity in his eyes was what prompted me to answer him.
“Because it... it just... you ruin it!” I said, throwing my hands up in exasperation, “Even though I know what happens, I can’t read through it without that thought in the back of my mind so when it actually comes up it won’t mean as much anymore!”
His eye brows lifted slightly. “I’m sorry.”
I was surprised at his sincerity. “Yeah... whatever. My mom’s here.”
I don’t know why I added that, considering I didn’t know him at all nor did he care, probably.
Although, the look on his face hinted at disappointment.
Halfway home, I realized I hadn’t really drank any of my coffee. I rested my head on the window.
Damn book ruiner.
~~~
It eight o’clock in the evening, the sky was dark, but the field lights were bright like the sun. I bent over, breathing heavily, dropping my lacrosse stick. It was a good practice.
Scott, my best friend, came and clapped my back. “Good game, Gabs.”
I nodded. “You coming over for dinner?”
Scott shook his head, sweat flying everywhere. “Nah, sister’s in town.”
We both rolled our eyes; knowing Mel, she’d probably have some new gangster boyfriend and a truckload of drama that came with him.
“Okay, well, see you later then.” I waved and then headed over to the street.
The best part about having practices two blocks from my house was the walk back. That night, the air was cool and the stars were bright. My mind drifted to the boy in the bookshop earlier. He was really attractive, not that that excused his actions at all.
But with his shaggy, honey colored hair and thick glasses, not to mention those eyes, he didn’t even seem real. He was like a character in a novel. Honestly, I could’ve made him up.
“Gabby? Is that you?” My mom called from the living room as I shut the front door to my house.
Rolling my eyes, I went for my usual sarcastic answer: “No mom, I’m a burglar. Give me all your valuables.”
“Good to see you too, honey. My night was fine, thanks. How was practice?” She said. Mainly my sarcasm came from her.
“Good. Scott scored a couple goals.” I said on the way to my room.
“What about you?”
“Scott only scored a couple because I was in the bathroom.”
My mother’s laugh echoed into my room through the blue curtain that was my door.
Not even bothering to change, I plopped down in my old wooden desk chair and pulled out my tattered ‘idea’ notebook.
Scribbling down the completely obscure detail I’d thought of during practice, I debated which plot I’d put it in.
Being a writer had been a dream of mine for quite a while, and I planned to be published by the time I was eighteen. At the moment, my works were mainly delightfully romantic plots and short stories about my favorite characters from various television shows I enjoyed.
After showering and returning to my spot to write, my mind drifted to him again.
Without even thinking about it, the main character in my story became the bookshop boy in my head. I stared at the fresh ink on the page, my chin resting on my palm.
I’d hit a roadblock. While introducing said character, I seemed to draw a blank when it came to his name. Fictional names weren’t too hard, usually I just picked whichever name I had a fixation on at the moment.
However, this character wasn’t a character but a real person who had a name.
The only trouble was that I didn’t know it.
a/n
In which wattpad user nobusinesshere starts another story for her best friend pineappleattack.
Sorry it's so short, dear, it's really more of an introduction.
But the plans for this are HUGE, I tell you, HUGE.
<3
