Where the Skies are Blue

Chapter Seventeen:

I say hello to Maggie before silently making my way to the back of the store, moving past Ender without any sort of acknowledgement on either of our ends. Ever since that day at school, when I stupidly made a comment about Ender being damaged like me, we've tip-toed around each other in the store.

The most I've gotten from him since is a few glances. I don't blame him for not wanting to be friends with me. Or for taking offense to what I said. I'm more surprised when someone does want to be my friend. I'm used to people not liking me. My inability to think before I talk has added Ender to the long list of people who'd prefer to ignore my existence.

People want to be friends with the Hunters of the world. Someone whose presence demands to be felt, to be seen, to be great. Not the Auden's of the world.

Frank Sinatra plays on the old radio that Maggie leaves in the store, allowing scratchy tunes to play. Every day, she puts on a new CD. Today's mood is old love songs. I've gotten into the groove of labeling the books and placing them in their correct piles while sneaking some reading in between. The hours inching by in a calming embrace. I look forward to being here. It feels like stepping into a wonderland. My own little bubble. The world gets quiet.

I grab some dusty books off the shelf, and swipe my hand over the cover, revealing the title. The Great Gatsby, three copies of it.

"There you are!" Maggie's voice suddenly appears loudly beside me, making me jump and drop the copies onto the floor. "This place is small, but dang, is it easy to get lost in here." She flashes me a bright smile. "Put that on hold. I need you and Ender for something." She takes her hand and waves for me to follow her.

I leave The Great Gatsby behind and nervously follow her through the backdoor into an office. I've yet to be in here and didn't even know this room existed. The office is cluttered. Piles upon piles of papers on an old vintage, brown desk. A light fixture hangs above, with one of the light bulbs burnt out, creating a moody ambience. A small bookshelf is in the corner, filled to the brim with books.

Ender is already in the office. His body leaning against the vintage desk, arms folded across his chest, as his head is dipped downwards towards the floor. When I step in, his head remains tilted down, but his eyes glance up, looking at me briefly. With his head tilted and eyes brushed upwards, it resembles a sexy smolder, making my knees feel weak.

Maggie moves over to the desk and slides some papers to the side. "So, I need all new labels for the shelves. If you two could work back here for the next few hours to get those done and printed, that'd be great. I'll manage the front. Sound good?" She looks back at me as I remain standing near the doorframe. "Ender knows how to print the labels; he can show you."

I nod quietly. She pats Ender's shoulder before making her way out of the office, leaving the two of us alone in this cramped space with moody lighting. The sound of Frank Sinatra far off in the distance. Very faintly I can hear the lyrics to Moon River.

Ender clears his throat before turning his back to me and facing the desk. He opens up a laptop, then looks over his shoulder at me. "Come here. I'll show you." His voice is mesmerizing, just like his stare.

I find my feet floating over to him as if they listen to his commands more than my own. When I'm standing beside him, I get a whiff of his smell. He smells like old books mixed with the sea and sandalwood. All the best smells combined. If they made a candle of these smells, I would buy every one they had in stock.

I watch intently as he shows me how to navigate the laptop and the printer and how to effectively do the labels. Then, we split up our jobs so we can get it done faster. The first few minutes, we work in agonizing silence. Neither of us saying a word. It's painful. For me, at least. Maybe not for him. He probably prefers it when I'm not talking and making assumptions about him.