Ace of Hearts

19| gravity is working against me

      My fingers wrap around the ladder rungs of a ladder that stands six feet tall. Hoisting myself up with a breath, I steady my body so that I can reach the top shelf.

     At my feet stands Ace. His blue eyes watch me, as he stands below, waiting to hand off some book copies to me.

   "You good?" He questions after a moment.

   I focus on the empty space. "Yeah." I glance down at him. "Start handing me the books."

    "You sure you don't want to trade places?"

    I scoff at the suggestion. "And why should I? I'm capable enough to stand on a ladder, Ace."

    He crosses his arms, "I was just trying to be helpful."

   "Helpful hands me the books." I remind him. He chuckles and passes up three copies.

    "If someone wants those, will we have to drag the ladder out to get it?"

   "Yeah. It's not a big deal." I shrug, lining up the spines.

    Ace props against the legs and sighs. "So..."

   "Hand me another!" I scold.

    Are we here to work, or talk?

   "Oh, sorry."

   I roll my eyes and keep working. Ace chuckles.

    "I guess you're back to hating me?"

    Is he kidding? I stop what I'm doing just for a second.

   "I don't hate you."

   "Dislike, then."

    A book falls over. I put it back upright.

     Okay... maybe I do have complicated feelings about Ace. Maybe I have selfish feelings. But, nothing can erase what happened at the party, or how that made me feel.

    "What makes you think I dislike you?" I don't look at him while I reach.

    "So you're this snappy with everyone?"

     No comment.

    He sighs. "Well I don't want you to dislike me."

    "Why does it matter?" I laugh, "you can't expect everyone to like you!"

    "Yeah, but I want you to."

    I bite my lip. Well, I don't dislike Ace. Not really.

    "I don't particularly dislike you." I glance down at him and take another book. "But I haven't forgotten that we're competing in the writing contest, even if I am starting to warm up to you here at work. Or at Indie's."

   "The writing contest," he groans, "do you think of anything else?"

    Do I? I make a face, which says it all. He chuckles, and I force myself to keep working.

    "I've started to write more. Intentionally."

   He has?

  "Really?"

   He nods, before smirking. "Of course, I won't be sharing my work. Kind of like you."

    I roll my eyes. "You're really something else."

   "Thank you!" He says, handing me another book before before bending down to observe the empty box on the bookstore floor.

    I straighten to complete the row, but the cover slips in my hands. Overcompensating, I reach to try and grab it. Before I realize it, I'm falling.