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Power
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Chapter 9: Power (London's POV)
"Aren't you closing up right now?" Dylan asked, pulling his bag over his shoulder, leaning over the desk.
"I have work to do now," I sighed, glancing pointedly over at the cardboard box that had the twenty copies of Wicked Ruins.
"Are you going to call that guy in?"
I stared at him.
He rolled his eyes, sighing, "Seriously? God, why are you doing that to yourself?"
"It's work, Dylan. You should go home, don't wait up."
"You'll be fine?" he asked warily.
"Yes," I breathed out. "Bye."
"Bye." He walked out and I sat down, grabbing the store's phone instead of my own, using it to dial Ronan's number. If he thought he could use this as an excuse to get my number again, he was so wrong.
I was about to dial the number when my cell phone rang, an unknown number flashing across the screen. I frowned in confusion, answering with, "Hello?"
"I wasn't sure you'd call, so I'm asking myself. Are my books there yet?"
I blinked in surprise. "How did you get my number?"
"What do you mean?"
Does he still have it? From all those years ago?
"Never mind," I breathed out. "Your books are here. Come sign them."
"Right now? It's almost eight."
"Sign them or I'm shelving them right now," I retorted.
He paused before sighing in defeat. "I'll be there in five minutes."
I hung up, putting my phone on the table, staring at the screen. He kept my number, didn't he? I scoffed to myself, "Why the hell would he keep my number?"
He probably got it from Damon or his parents.
While waiting for him to get here, I shifted all his copies from the box to the trolley and wheeled it over to a table where he could sit and sign.
Last night after dinner at his house, I dwelled over what I said to him. Was I too harsh? Did I sound too bitter? Was it necessary for me to be so mean? I don't think I should have used his words from the past against him, it was an extremely low blow on my part. I almost feel bad. But does that mean I'll apologize for it? No. He still hasn't given me a sincere apology for what he did.
And just hearing him say "I'm sorry" won't cut it this time. I want to hear him admit everything he did, I want to know what he's sorry for, and I want to be sure that he actually means his apology. If he ever comes around to admitting his mistakes.
I sighed, carrying the empty box away after stacking his books on the table. I went and grabbed a pen, leaving it on the table, and then I settled in my chair, finishing up the book I had been reading. I didn't need to look at the door when I heard it open to know it was him. He walked over, stopping at my table. I cut him off before he could say anything. "All copies are on that table, just sign them and leave. I'll shelf them myself," I explained without looking up.
I felt him watching me before he sighed in defeat and walked over, sitting down and grabbing the first copy and then the pen. As he scribbled down his signature and put the copy to the side, every light throughout the store flickered and then gave out.
A power cut. Great.
I sighed and let out a soft groan in frustration, putting my book down and blindly feeling around for my phone. I found it on the table and turned the flashlight on, instantly wheeling my chair back and gasping sharply when I saw him standing right at my table. "Jesus! What's wrong with you?!" I stared at him in disbelief.
"I need a light to sign," he shrugged, taking my phone out of my hands and going back to the table, leaving me in the dark.
I kept my composure and stood up, feeling my way around the table and then walking over to where he was. "Don't you have your own..." I snatched my phone back. "Phone?" I finished, lifting a brow at him as he looked up at me.
"I didn't bring it. Why would I need my phone? I thought I'd be in and out of here in a while," he replied.
I scoffed, shaking my head. "I'm going to check the main power box. Stay here." I turned to leave, freezing in one spot when I felt his hand on my arm, pulling me back.
"Do you know what you're doing?"
"Of course I know what I'm doing," I mumbled, snatching my arm away.
"I don't think so, considering you called it a power box. It's called a switchboard."
"You knew what I meant either way. The power box, same difference."
"You're about to electrocute yourself to death," he said in amusement.
I rolled my eyes. "You think I haven't done this before?"
"Have you?"
I opened my mouth to bite back but stopped when I realized I've never had to do this, Dylan was always there and I just held up a flashlight.
"That's what I thought."
"You go fix it then," I nodded towards the staircase.
"I don't know what to do," he shrugged innocently.
My eyes narrowed. "I don't believe that one bit. And anyway, you can't sign without lights in here."
"Exactly," he replied, grabbing my arm and pulling me closer before looping a finger through my belt loop and pulling me to sit down. "So sit right there and hold that flashlight still."
"You're unbelievable," I laughed humorlessly, putting my hand on the table to push myself up.
He grabbed my wrist, pinning it down to the table, keeping me in place. "I'm not here for that long, so just sit still," he mumbled, quickly signing one book after the other. "And pray that the power is back by the time I'm done, or you'll be shelving these all alone in the dark."
I ignored his words and stared at his grip on my wrist before looking up at his face.
He seemed pretty focused on what he was doing. So focused that I don't think he realized he had started stroking his thumb back and forth across my skin.
I wanted to ask what the hell he thought he was doing, but it would be better to just get through this whole thing as fast as possible, so I kept my mouth shut. When he seemed zoned in on work, I tried sneaking my wrist out of his grasp but he adjusted his grip, tightening it and pulling it closer to him. I leaned forward, resting my other arm on the table, still holding the flashlight up for him. I put my arm down and rested my head on it, staring at him.
He glanced up at me before going back to signing. "Have you read it?" he asked.
"No," I sighed.
"Do you know what it's about?"
I watched him before humming in response.
"Did you read up on it when you ordered?" He put the copy aside, not signing the next one just yet.
"No," I admitted. "I read up on it when it came out."
He held my gaze, both of us refusing to look away. "Why?" he questioned.
"I don't know," I mumbled, "I wanted to see what kind of stuff you wrote. If it was any good, I guess."
"Was it?"
"I can't judge. But it's not what I thought you'd write. It was darker than I thought." Of course, I was curious.
When he had the book launch and first big event in Boston, his parents made sure to announce it to every single person in Runville and that's their right. To be proud as his parents. I did look it up and I thought I'd buy one for myself. I almost did but then I thought not to. I was surprised when I first read the plot. Ronan never talked about writing anything of that sort.
But the book revolves around a guy, the main character, Atlas Sullivan who kills the people that murdered his family and then hides in an abandoned town where he finds unexpected love.
"Do you know the ending?" he asked, resuming his signings.
"No," I answered. "Tell me."
He finished signing the copy at hand and slid it over to me. "Read and find out."
I stared at him blankly. "Are you trying to get me to buy this?"
"No, it's yours. For free." He let my wrist go and I looked at the emerald green cover with the writing done in bold silver letters with a dagger in the center of the page, silver roses growing around it.
I blinked a few times, staring at it. It looks familiar. "Who designed your cover?" I questioned.
"You did."
My head whipped up to look at him. "What?"
He signed the last copy and stood up, grabbing all the books. "Let's shelf, come on."
Oh my god. I did design it. Unintentionally, unknowingly. How did I not realize this sooner? I stood up, neither of us moving. "Why did you use this?" I asked.
He shrugged, "'Cause I wanted to? Come on." He started walking down the aisles and I followed behind slowly.
How the hell did I forget?
"Hmm?" I asked when he slipped a hand under the back of my shirt, drawing circles right above my tailbone as I lay on my stomach, my legs rocking back and forth, while I drew a random sketch. I still had art as a subject up until sophomore year and even though I quit it after that and now we were about to start senior year of high school, I still drew occasionally in my free time.
"What are you doing?" he asked, lying down beside me, keeping one hand tucked under my shirt.
"Drawing," I mumbled absentmindedly.
He looked at it, lying beside me. "What are you making?"
"Not sure," I chuckled, looking at the dagger as I paused before resuming to sketch in more roses and leaves growing around it, almost from it.
He leaned over, kissing the side of my head and then my cheek a few times. I kept drawing, refusing to get distracted by him. I sped up my sketching and finished it as his kisses reached my jaw before I dropped the pencil on the ground and turned to him, pushing at his chest gently. "You're such a distraction," I laughed, my neck and cheeks feeling hot.
He looked down at the page and then tore it out of the notebook. "This one's mine," he announced, leaning over and grabbing the pencil, handing it back to me. "Sign it."
I scribbled my initials onto the corner of the page and he put it away, for the time being, turning his attention back to me.
"Where was I?"
"I don't know," I smiled as he began leaning in, kissing me.
.
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Chapter 9
Okay but them in the past >>
But also them rn >>
next chapter: catch
Also, I imagine his cover is kind of like the cover for The Inheritance Games but in silver instead. If you haven't seen that cover, here it is for reference:
See, like that but emerald green and silver with the silver dagger and roses coming out of it instead, you get the memo I hope