The Book Boyfriend

… He knew he couldn’t leave her like this. Always wanting— no, needing, more, somehow. Carrying the question heavy in his heart, Sir Damon leaned over, armor barely covering his— frame. And her scent was still on his pillow though it left something to think of … to hope for… he dreamt. And what he dreamt of were —

A cold wind blows through me as I put my pen back in its sleeve on my notebook, thinking… Shit! When did it get so cold?

I remain silent while drawing in a breath of shock on discovering my hot tea has already began cooling— and is almost empty. I always knew I could do more with Damon. Rising action to climax was always Ana’s, but the fall and the resolution was meant for me to shoulder. Good thing I like heavy things, I guess.

“How did I get way down here?” I wonder aloud, looking around me spotting the farmer’s market that just finished reconstruction. You can tell by the traffic cones spread haphazardly. A full twelve blocks away from my apartment and not a single workable idea, yet for ‘Knights to remember: the final final chapter’.

Since, this is where Ana and I created our first project that turned operation major— and I thought we could both finally find what we were looking for.

Who knows, maybe I still have a chance. I hear a vaguely familiar voice as I swing the door open, but between Damon and Ana, I can’t even focus to see.

“E, is that you?” A sultry voice. Still, I don’t turn around pretending to focus on ordering from this new tea stand. I’m almost empty anyway. “Yeah, I’ll take a rooibos n’ matcha, please. Large.” I glance up to ensure the cashier heard me. I recognize her— Fran.

The voice continues behind me, “Or, do I just want it to be him,” I hear chuckle to herself adding a “—maybe.” I keep my attention on Fran, confused to see her here. The voice behind me softens, seeming to surrender the pursuit.

“I didn’t expect to find you here—of all places.” Fran says to me holding my matcha, albeit a bit distracted. So, I just gently reach over and take the cup from her hand. It spills a little.

In the driest tone I could manage I say simply, “oh no.” She smirks at me and reaches for a napkin, so I continue. “Did you mean to bring back good memories.” Hopefully not too far?

“I’m sure even the nights we’ve wanted forgotten were good memories.” She’s teasing me. I was a good distraction for her for a semester— just until graduation.

“How are you?” I ask her awkward as it comes out is equally sincerely.

“How is he?” I stop and meet her eyes, searching for her intent. They whisper apologies, louder than her voice.

If she were still dealing with my brother, she’d know we were not back on speaking terms.

“He’s alright, I think.” I hesitate, noticing she’s still holding my hand after cleaning me up.

“You really do look more like him— as time goes on. Perception really changes us.” She smiles with half her heart, “I have a cashier that called off, though, so I don’t want to keep my customers waiting!”.

I just keep thinking maybe I should reach out to Walter. He always helps me when I get into really weird headspaces.

Only after turning around is when I notice myself holding her napkin loosely wrapped around my tea. Numbers fading from being quickly scribbled on with an old sharpie— my distraction broken from hearing that same voice from before.

“Are you just going to stand there, Mr. E. Or aren’t you going to tell a woman she’s beautiful.” It’s the same flawless inflection from the other night, Misstery, I never even stopped to know her name. Hearing a line straight from my own novel, though— I, am now blushing.

I was so worried about Damon and Ana that I never truly stopped to listen to those around me. At least E always stops and listens.

“You know it never feels the same when you have to tell me. I’m better than that Misstery,” I slip into character seemlessly with a sharp smile and look up slightly. Only realizing now I never learned a natural name to put behind this beauty. My eyes fully feeling, now, what my hands missed.

Damn. I’ve been rudely checked out. But she truly is, beautiful. Soft brown eyes with sprinkles of green and gold with the sun hitting them… just … right.

I break character to return to the moment. “I’m sorry. If you tried reaching out— I’ve been distracted.”

“You don’t really strike me as the distracted type,” she’s teasing.

“Did you know you are absolutely even more stunning when the sun smiles behind you. We should meet in the daytime more I think.”

Her lips purse as if to think a bit on how to respond next. But I continue stepping closer to her as if to forget the very open, very public space we were in. She stepped forward to meet me in the moment.

“You didn’t hold back the other night.” She’s right. I far from held back. Her too. “What have you been so distracted about?”

She pulls back just a bit. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me. I just figured it would be the lowest pressure. I never want to be pressure… just apply it properly.”

“No, no, you’re alright.” This would actually offer me a chance to get real feedback for once. “I’m working on something with a major deadline and I haven’t been able to write as fluidly as I would like if I’m being honest.” There’s no point in lying, remember?

“In all fairness I should have reached out long before,” and before I could apologize her fingers were on my lips.

My hands were on her hips.

“Here?” She brushes a cherry wood brown lock back from her face, I feel her move my hand closer to her hand still draped by her side, and a book laying in it the words Mister E’s Workshop worn down on the spine. “The return I mean… I have just a burning question, maybe that’s been the reservation. And maybe answering it will help you too.”

I don’t see how, but I place a hand on her cheek.My hands are a little warm from holding my tea, and I slide right back in, “anything for you mistress.”

“Well that’s just it,” She replies, here face making my hands warmer. Or maybe just her making my blood warmer. “Mister E always ensuring his guests find the service they’re looking for seems— personal. He was presented a key but it’s almost as if he feels more comfortable inside his cages.”

Well stated, “I wouldn’t say more— comfortable,” today was about Damon, I don’t want to think about E, at least, not right now. “Just more familiar really.” She places her hands on my cheeks and her gloves remind me it’s still winter outside.

“You want me to take these off?” She asks looking down.

‘Yes! God yes!’ I plead internally as she continues staring back at me softly. “I mean— no, this somehow feels natural enough.”

“I think E tells himself he needs to be the greatest warlock, but really it’s the ascension of respect that’s calling him to cave to Misstery. I get that she’s happy to turn over the workshop and all of the guilt that comes with it, but if the prophecy reads— Consent is his your key, which Misstery interprets fit her needs.”

“Naturally,” she may be on to something. But I don’t think I’m following her lead on this one.

“But I’m curious,” she adds. “E says he identifies as a gin initially, since he only need asked… but by the end of the book I’m left wondering about E’s needs. He claims his needs are met through his customers satisfaction.” She bites her lips and grabs me by my throat gently, looks at me directly and whispers, “You get to ask for the things you want to.”

I think to myself—

I want you … right here, “— but let’s return to my place.”

“Mine is closer.” She says in the most deliciously sincere sternness.

Her tone is steady, confident—exactly the kind of confidence that makes me want to follow her anywhere. She’s ready for another game.

She’s ready for another game, the timing couldn’t be better.