Spencer tells Lauren about her dreams, her fascination with the stars and space, her love for cooking, her ability to make almost everyone she encounters laugh…even if they’re laughing at her and not with her. But during the whole spiel she can’t stop beaming and starts day dreaming about Maya, but it’s like she has a sixth sense because Lauren notices and decides to get things moving and invites her to an awesome bookstore.
Damn, she knew I was daydreaming huh? I mean I have been waiting to meet her for so long and now that’s she’s finally here in person I don’t know what to do. I keep thinking how long will this last.
Lauren grabs Spencer’s hand, “Hey, come here I wanna show you something.”
Woah she is really close now haha this reminds me of in the movies where characters are kind of wondering, “Are we gonna kiss or something…what have I gotten myself into?!?!”
Her breath is warm against my ear and it kind of tickles a bit.
Wait she wants to take me on a little adventure? My heart is beating so fast I don’t know what to do, I feel this connection to Lauren like if she moves one way I match her, or if she’s talking to me, the words flow out of my mouth like a stream that meets a waterfall.
I keep thinking,“Just grab her hand…just grab it.” It doesn’t have to be precisely sexual or platonic but I need to latch onto something because my feelings are all over the place.
I grab her hand, and we leave some money at the café, and she whips around out the door walking like she’s on a mission, curls bouncing left to right, and I can’t stop smiling.
She grabs my hand and plants a soft kiss on it, and I can hear the excitement and a bit of friendly teasing in her voice when she says, “Hurry up, slow poke, the bookstore isn’t open forever”
We make our way to this really cute, brick walled bookstore, right outside of the busy streets and café’s we just came from. The door sign hanging from it’s walls say, “USED BOOKS FOR YOUR PLEASURE.”
I see an old man winking at Maya as if she knows him and I feel the warmth from inside as the door opens, and that familiar smell of old books and old people wafts it’s way into my face.
We begin the search,
I find two old archie’s comic books….
Then Lauren spots some vintage 1980’s national geographic and life magazines….
Then an old lady drops a book out of her hands, and I pass it to her…while she whispers, “There’s more where that came from in the back.”
She was right, I hit the jackpot back there, I got lost in the novels
There was Vonnegut, and Hemingway,
Albert Camus novels actually in french….man I wish I would’ve paid attention in French class last year…
Then I hit the jack pot, in the darkest corner I found a brown book, it looked like somebody had homebound it, and I opened the first page and it read
This Diary belongs to:
Samantha Hopkins
Started on: September 5th 1945
Miss Harriet’s Boarding School
Cornwall, England
I had to find Lauren and show it to her, I looked around the bookstore everywhere for her and then the old man in the front whose name is Mr. Wilson, nodded to downstairs,
Okay like how many books does this man own?!?!
The room downstairs had piles and piles of books, not in shelves though.
And there were dark cherry wood tables with lamps of all different origins.
And corners with pillow and soft carpeting, could this get any closer to heaven?!?
I saw Lauren as is some sort of light was illuminating around her, it was probably just the glow of the yellow lamp sitting on a table next to her, but I decided not to translate the moment out of poetry just yet.
I came up behind her and put my hand over her eyes, and said, “guess who?”
She replied, “Hmmm these hand are kind small so they can’t be Mr. Wilsons.”
“They aren’t Beyonce’s hand’s because I imagine those feel like silk,”
Giggling she says “These don’t feel powerful enough to be Kayne West’s hands…”
Then I say, “okay Laure---
But she stops me saying “I’m pretty sure these lovely hands belong to Spencer.”
If I weren’t already blushing I definitely am now.
To be continued
sorry for the awkward formatting and happy monday,
casey
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