When I was younger, on the exact day I turned 17, my parents got divorced. I left my beach town in New Jersey to go live with my mother in her childhood hometown of Brooklyn. I graduated by being homeschooled in a year, and got a full ride to Brooklyn College. Brooklyn is a strong unusual place, but it's known to me in my later years in life as my adventure. Everyone gets something thrown at them that changes everything, but in a good way. To me, Brooklyn changed my life, but working at the Book Nook improved it.
My mother had always wanted to open up an independent bookstore, and the Book Nook was her dream that came to life when I was given money for college by my father. She decided that since I was being paid to go to school, she could afford to buy the flat above as well as cover any other expenses I need for my schooling.
The Book Nook was cozy. It was like a taste of a wiped-out culture that many forgot about. It had shelves and shelves of books. Some were even stacked on the sides; That's how many books we had. It was a rather quiet shop, usually with some band my mother would discover on her Pandora playing softly into the background. Tables and chairs of all shapes and sizes were lined around the store, and in the front was a lone cash register that was very old, but always gave out exact change when needed.
My mother and I used to be the only two who worked at the bookshop, until one day a girl came in with emerald green eyes and dark brown, almost black, hair pulled back into a messy bun. She said her mother took her here once when they went on a trip to New York a while back, and she would like a job.
My mother only ever gave a job to someone who applied, never someone who came in when there was a 'Help Wanted' sign dangling through the window. The only person who she ever hired was Lauren Jauregui.
Lauren was a child born into the wrong generation, whether she would admit it or not is rather nebulous. She wore ripped jeans and turtlenecks often, and would doodle on my notepads whenever I would go out to get coffee for my mother. She was excellent at cataloging, and she adored poems. She wrote poems often, and every Friday night she would read her work whether we had customers or not.
She was, also, the most volatile person you could ever meet.
When Lauren believed something, she fought for it as if he life depended on it. She wasn't stubborn; She was just a person who fought other's beliefs. She always had a question ready in her back pocket, and she always was thinking. Her eyes made it look like she was always thinking.
I was convinced Lauren and I would end up running the shop together when my mother retired. My mother also liked to joke around that we were soulmates, because we both counteracted each other like forest fires and floods.
So, Lauren and I did try. We tried once, and twice, and then again. We had our good times and bad, but I suddenly realized we were both polar opposites. Yes, it was true I loved her, but I don't necessarily think it was true love. More like an affinity to each other. We fought behind closed shop doors and reconciled in front of open ones, but I knew that we would act like nothing changed a week later. That we were still just friends.
However, my main focus as I always made clear, was my schooling. I commuted every day to school, either walking or riding my bike. I was dedicated on proving to my whole professors, my mom and Lauren, and the entire world that I had a story to tell. And when you live in New York, it gets quite difficult to get someone to stop and listen.
One day in the shop, I was 18, going on 19. Lauren was out getting coffee, and I was sweeping the floors and checking to make sure everything was in place. We had just started a new shelf called Blind Date with a Book. It was a row of books wrapped in brown paper, scribbled with a few facts about the book.
Just then, the door opened. I heard a pair of feet step in, the sound of water underneath squeaking underneath boots. I turned around, and was met with two big brown eyes.
It was a girl. Usually, we didn't quite get young visitors unless they were in a group of other college kids or something. But there she stood, wiping her boots on the doormat, all by herself and yet not ashamed of it. Her attention now went to that, as well as fully collapsing the umbrella she had in her hand.
"How hard is it raining out there?" I asked, trying not to stare into her eyes.
"You know how people say it's raining cats and dogs?" She told me. I nodded, hanging on to every word.
"Well, it's raining a hell of a lot of cats and dogs." She answered, a little laugh as she gestured to the glass door.
I walked up to her, putting the broom and dustpan aside.
"Is there, um, anything I can help you find today?" I asked, as our eyes met and my heart started to beat to the tempo of an insanely fast electronic remix.
"I've never been here, actually. It's my first time." She said, walking in. "I'm staying with a friend for a while and I wanted to get something to read with this stormy weather, but as I ventured it only got even more stormy."
"Got anything specific that you're looking for?" I asked, praying that she would.
"I don't really. I read almost anything with a cover."
"Well, follow me." I gestured her to the back of the store to a specific bookshelf. It was entitled by my mother, "Quality Trash".
My mother always rated books on a one hundred point scale, as she used to be a high school English teacher. If anything is good, she has me or Lauren read it. If one of us thinks it's bad, but the other thinks it's good, it ends up in the "Quality Trash" section.
The girl laughed at seeing the sign, and I smiled.
"'Of Mice and Men'?" She questioned, seeing as if it was a new addition to the shelves.
"I didn't quite like the pacing of the novel." I answered.
"It was really sad, but yeah the pacing threw me off too." She replied, putting it back on the shelf.
"Do you like Hemingway?" I asked her.
"You could tell." She smiled. Gosh, her smile was something magnetic. It just attracted other people to smile with her.
"Have you read A Farewell To Arms?" I asked. She nodded.
"To Have and Have Not?" She nodded again.
"Hmm.." I navigated our Hemingway section, and stopped at one specific book.
"Here." I gave her the novel.
"The Garden of Eden?" She raised an eyebrow.
"It's actually really good." I explained. "It's about this couple who just got married, and they both fall in love with the same girl. It was published 25 years after his death."
She looked at the book in her hands and got extremely happy.
"My parents- they have a house where there's an entire library. I finished all the books there a while ago. They actually never had Hemingway." The girl looked at the countless other novels around her. "What else do you guys have?"
"Well, we have the Newest Releases section, but it's kind of small because my mom reads a lot of it. We have a Classics section, which you're currently in. We have a Discount section, a Reference section. And, of course-"
"Quality Trash." She giggled. "I'm Camila."
She extended her hand to mine, which I slowly grabbed and shook lightly.
"Y/N." I smiled.
"This place is amazing." Camila gushed, her eyes darting to all the sections. "How don't more people know about this?"
"Well, it's New York." I explained, leading her to the cash register. "There's a lot of bookstores, and ours is rather small. We get some visitors every day trickling in, but rarely someone as invested in literature as yourself."
Camila's cheeks turned a pinkish shade, which extended my small grin into a toothy smile.
"What's this?" She asked, turning to the new display.
"Oh, my mom had the idea." I came up to her, knocking the wooden sign. "It's a blind date with a book. We wrap a book in paper, write some facts on the tag, and for ten dollars you can have a date that may be either good or really bad."
"If I'm going to have a date, Y/N, I'd want it to be with you over coffee." Camila told me, eyes locked into mine.
I let out a little laugh.
"Wait, really?" I asked, surprised and shocked at the same time.
"I mean- yeah, I really wanna get to know you." Camila smiled. "If that's okay with you."
"We just met."
"Yeah, I totally know that. But, um- something just feels right." Camila tried explaining, cheeks going from pink to red. "If you don't want to, it's totally fine, we can stay friends-"
"I would love to, Camila." I remarked with a stomach of butterflies, leading her back to the register. "How about the book? Is he gonna be third-wheeling?"
Camila nodded, never tearing her stare from me. I put the books in a bag, and totaled her purchase in the register.
"Okay," I exclaimed. "Your total is 23.95."
Camila reached into her purse, pulling out two bills and handing them to me. Our hands lingered on the money for a while, but I slowly pulled away and examined the bills. I went to go get change, since she gave me two twenty dollar bills, until she stopped me by grabbing my arm.
"Um, uh- keep the change." She stared into my eyes, and I felt my knees get a little shaky.
"You sure? I mean, I can't possibly-"
"No, keep it." She told me, putting her and into mine. "I'll see you tomorrow at the coffee shop on 47th, okay?"
"Okay." I nodded at the girl.
Camila wrote something on the back of her receipt, handing it to me.
"I'll see you around." She smiled as she walked out of the shop.
I unwrapped the receipt to reveal a set of digits, most likely her phone number. My heart fluttered at the fact she liked my company. Maybe even more than that. My mind was racing, wondering if she was a college student like me. She seemed incredibly educated as well, something that was incredibly hard to find in this city.
Just then, the door opened. My mind secretly hoped that it was Camila, coming back to ask for a free bookmark right next to the cash register or perhaps directions to a certain cafe. But it was only Lauren. She wore a band shirt and my chunky cardigan she liked to borrow. She carried in a tray of coffee cups, setting it down on the counter.
"You look like you've seen a ghost." She told me, setting down the coffee.
"I could say the same about you." I teased her on her pallor.
"I'm from Miami. I'm supposed to be tanning right now, but because of the inclement weather I look like a vampire." Lauren said, suddenly sipping her hot chocolate.
"Lauren? Did you get me my coffee?" My mother's voice upstairs bellowed.
"Yes, Julie." Lauren shouted to her. "Come on down, they also had the croissants you like."
My mom descended the staircase, wearing flip flops and a sweater. She was the kind of woman who had crinkles around her eyes from smiling too much in her youth. She likes classic literature, and most importantly, coffee.
"Oh, Lauren." She came down, hugging Lauren and grabbing her cup. "Lord only knows what Y/N and I would do without you."
"We'd hear a lot less Bob Marley, I'll admit." I said, poking fun at Lauren's guilty pleasure.
"At least she knows the Dewey decimal system." Mom argued.
Lauren did have me there. I was never able to learn the Dewey decimal system, mostly because I was always too busy writing. I always had this problem where I would think too many thoughts at once, so I always had problems truly focusing on one thing. Because of this, I could never be a great librarian. I could be a bookstore associate, but I don't think I could have the mental capacity to run a whole library. Lauren disagrees on that with me quite a lot, but I think it's just because half of the time she's madly in love with me. As harsh as it sounds, she can't lie to me.
"I got you beat there." Lauren told me, lightly punching my arm.
The rest of the evening consisted of more organizing, a new shipment of releases, and Chinese takeout for dinner. Most days were usually like this, not too crowded but not too scarce. However, Camila's big brown eyes were still burned into the back of my mind. No one has ever had this effect on me. Not even Lauren, who sat next to me throughout dinner and held my hand under the table. Lauren flirted with everyone; You think I'd know by now what this meant. But my mind was clouded, and for once I couldn't tell with her.
Closing time came around, and Lauren got a cab back to her apartment a few blocks away. As she was leaving, I cleaned up the dust bunnies cleverly hiding in the store, and went up to the loft for bed.
You may be wondering if I actually have any actual friends, or if I just spend all my time at a bookstore and school working because I want to annotate my plebeian fate. Well, I have friends. However, they're all from Jersey. And they've been very good people to me, don't get me wrong. I just don't see myself being lifelong friends with them. Call it what you will, but whatever brought me to New York wanted me to have a fresh start- and these guys are kind of preventing that.
All they talk about are Jersey parties, Jersey food, Jersey problems- they're stuck in this state which nothing really happens, and yet it's everything to them. It's kind of sad, because looking back at us when we were young, we all wanted to travel the world. Something changed with that. Now they're filling jobs at fast food restaurants, attending part-time community college, and throwing those dreams away in the rubbish bins. What gets me mad is that they never thought they could do it, so they never tried. And now, they look at me often like I'm a fool of some sorts. I don't think I'm a fool. They may, but they'll never admit it.
My only real friend is my cousin, Hurley. His real name is Kurtis, but he's called Hurley ever since we were kids. He now goes to school in California, where he's training to be a chef. Last time he visited, it was the summer and he taught me how to surf. I, in turn, taught him iambic pentameter. Although it took him a while to learn it, he loved it. Now, he does recreational Shakespearian theater at his college. He is the nicest guy I know.
I put on my pajamas and took the receipt out of my flannel's pocket. I added Camila to my contacts on my phone and began to think of the perfect thing to text her.
Suddenly, I clutched my phone and quickly typed a message to her.
"I was quite enchanted to meet you today, Camila."
I sent it, realizing how weird twenty-first century romance was. If this was the 1700's, I would've just sent her a brief and short letter that took weeks to visit her. Love letters are extinct, but if I got one I would marry the sender at an instant.
My phone vibrated, and I looked to see her reply. It left me uncontrollably smiling.
"Believe me, you just made my week a whole lot better."
I knew nothing about her at all. But I wanted to more than anything else in the universe.