whatcha listening to? -armin arlert

twenty nine

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"We've been on five dates in the past two weeks, when the fuck is he going to ask me to be his girlfriend?" I complain to Sasha as we sit in the park, a deck of cards in my hands as I shuffle for our next game of war.

"Aren't you going out with him again today? Just ask him then." She replies as she scrolls through her phone, searching for a nonexistent notification from Nicolo who she finally talked to last week upon seeing him in the coffee shop.

"I can't be the one to ask!" I counter as I split the deck between us.

"I thought you were a feminist?" Sasha replies as she sets her phone down in the now dead grass.

"Yeah, but I'm a hopeless romantic first." I answer, throwing my first card down and sighing as Sasha collects them, having won the first battle.

"He's gotta ask soon, it's silly to drag this out. Especially when you two dodged getting together for so long." She says, the flick and thud of the cards hitting the grass as we talk over our game. My face flushes at the mention of the long drawn out crush I had on Armin, still embarrassed but knowing it was for the best.

"He'd better, I'm getting tired of waiting." I say. "I'm about to start with the not so subliminal messaging."

"Subliminal messaging about what?" Armin's voice asks from behind me, and I whip my head around to find him standing behind me.

"Sasha!" I scold, turning to meet her wide eyes at the sight of Armin. He was meant to meet me here, but Sasha and I were supposed to keep a lookout so he wouldn't hear any conversation about him.

"Nothing!" I answer Armin, turning again to flash him a smile as I hand Sasha my cards.

-

I found myself quickly forgetting the conversation with Sasha and my worries about Armin not wanting to make it official on the short drive to the bookshop. Erwin told us he was expecting an unusually large shipment today, and we had offered to help put it all away. Of course, Erwin saw through our ploy to have first access to the books, but accepted anyway.

We were now here twice, sometimes three times a week, relishing in the quiet away from the buzzing energy of college students. We had started having our Friday study sessions on the floor by the window upstairs, and last week a worn table matching the chairs and end tables was in our spot.

We tried to thank Erwin for it, but he simply waved his hand at us rather dismissively, claiming he found it in the basement. Today, however, we sat on the floor of the small, warmly lit office as we sorted randomly packed boxes into genres.

Armin and I had either read or heard of most of these books, and if we hadn't, then all it took was a glance at the summary or a few pages of reading a part of the book. With our literary knowledge, we were quick to figure out the genre, and the pile of 'unknown' books never reached very high.

"A wrapped book? That's gotta be an old one." Armin comments as a heavy book wrapped in tissue paper sits in my hands. I smile in satisfaction that I'm the one who picked it, as Armin always seeks out the wrapped books for the thrill of a surprise. I let him of course, but I can't help the way my fingers ache each time he unwraps a vintage, original, or rare copy.

"Do you want to unwrap it?" I ask as I hold it out to him, knowing he adores it.

"No, you do it. I have a good feeling about that one." He answers, removing his hands from the box so he can give me his undivided attention. I wouldn't call it a tradition, but the few wrapped books we had unpacked over the past few weeks were always treated as one would treat the unveiling of a historic artifact after it had been unearthed following thousands of years in solitude.