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Urgh. Sometimes I get melancholy and horrified
My brother bought this fancy soil months ago, and now I'm finding horribly freaky bugs around the house. I'm pretty sure I saw a millipede. I've got a kill on sight protocol in place, but it's still very gross and I'm really not happy.
I want a green house, a large outdoor food garden, a storage shed/workshop, and to pay off all my debt and help pay off the house. I also want the money to help those kids have good stuff in their classroom.
*
Dude, I am trying hard to write, but I've put tons of stress on myself. Still, I keep cranking away toward my daily word goals. I weep for myself most pitifully.
So there's this. The start of Chapter Eighteen of Off to See the Wizard. Unfortunately, I'm not liking the angle of this. I think I might do a rewrite. I don't feel like the Scooby Gang should have crossed over. I don't feel comfortable with them there.
EXCERPT--
He couldn't breathe.
He'd honestly started thinking he was going to be in this world forever, yet here was Willow. His beautiful red haired girl that he had and always would love forever.
When she wrapped her arms around him, he felt as though he were coming home. "I missed you," he whispered.
She pulled away enough to give him some seriously tragic eyes. "You left the world when no one was looking. You're not allowed to do something like that."
"I'm sorry," he said honestly. "It wasn't part of my grand plan."
Willow hugged him tightly. "It wasn't part of mine either. I'm so glad you're all right."
He had a sudden suspicion, but that was as near as she would get to a confession. Strangely, he was all right with that. She was his Willow-girl forever.
"Well, this is charming and all, but maybe there should be some introductions?" Oz pulled away from Willow, though she refused to release his hand and looked at Xander.
He was surprised to see the pirate patch, but it didn't seem like the kind of thing to bring up at the moment.
"Xander," he said.
"Oz." Xander gave him a solemn nod. "How you doing buddy?" His eye drifted around the room purposefully. Oz hadn't realized he'd gotten so subtle.
"Doing all right." Oz licked his lips and took them in. Willow had on her serious face. Xander had an eye patch and a serious air of confidence to him. Buffy was trying to play the innocent girl in front of the crowd, but she had a dagger hidden against her arm. There was a dark haired girl giving him a piercing, evaluating look for someone and he was tempted to ask what was her deal.
"It's nice you guys came to take me home," he said.
"We saw you getting a little aggressive before we came through," Buffy said in her best "I am the world police" voice. It was the same tone she'd used when he was rescued from the Army boys, only that time it was directed at someone else.
"Stuff was going down," Oz said. It was only good sense that he keep his hands safely in view. He didn't think she was going to see him as an enemy, but sometimes Slayers were a bit feral even when they didn't realize it. He'd long ago made the Hellmouth vow that he wasn't going to be one of those guys killed by his friends. So it was better to be safe than sorry.
"Monsieur Oz, perhaps you could introduce your guests," Jean-Claude interjected. His tone could have melted butter with all the sexual heat in it, but Oz could smell the unease. Vampires in this world were incredibly touchy about people showing up in their territory unexpectedly.
Oz turned to the Master of the City and tried to smooth any ruffled feathers. "These are my friends. Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris, and Buffy Summers." He didn't say anything about the other girl, not willing to claim someone he didn't know as a friend. "I think they're here to take me home."
"I see." Jean-Claude studied them with interest before giving Oz a sharp look. His face was a pleasant mask, but his eyes had gone solid blue and the air around him had a weight to it. "And are these the friends you joined in hunting vampires? Your little band of murderous vampire hunters?"
Oz didn't see any reason to lie. Practically everyone in the room would be able to smell it on him. "Yes," he said. "These are my friends."
"I see. And are many more of your acquaintances going to make an appearance in my city?" Jean-Claude asked.
Oz shrugged. "I didn't even know these ones would be here."
He was actually pretty shocked. From what he could understand of it, jumping worlds was usually something done by demons. Human magic users tended to die horrible deaths as they were torn apart by a mix of cosmic energy and losing contact with their homegrown center of power.
For Willow to be here, she needed to be a lot more powerful than he remembered. The title of Number One Witch in North America seemed to be well earned.
"Hey guys," he said. "Wasn't expecting you here."
"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition," Xander joked. He had his patented goofy look on his face, pretending to be the helpless merely human face of the Scooby gang. Except that he was keeping his eyes tracking around the room, assessing threat levels and marking exits.
"I missed you," Oz said. And he had. Missed them all in the way of an old limb that got a bit gangrenous and had to be removed if he was going to survive. Didn't mean he didn't think of them all sometimes, and that timeless high school friendship and first real love that he'd been sure would last forever.
Looking at Willow though, it was obvious that they'd all grown up, become different people. She was still beautiful and there was still that ache in his chest when he saw her face and knew she wasn't his anymore, but that time was over.
Still, he couldn't help sinking into her embrace when she wrapped her arms around him. Laying his head on her shoulder felt natural and right.
Still my Willow, he thought and only felt a little foolish. Because she still smelt like strawberries and warm girl. She still felt like home in his arms.
* * *
Knowing that Oz had come from a different world was completely different than watching other visitors appear. It opened up the possibility that Oz was going to leave, and honestly Jason didn't want to see that happen.
They'd only known each other for a little while, but he didn't want Oz to leave. He wanted to yell at him that he had to stay, but he knew that was childish and weird. They were just friends, nothing more.
But you want it to be something more, don't you?
He ignored that insidious voice and tried to be glad for Oz being able to go back home if he wanted.
"Jason, come meet my friends." Oz held his hand out toward him. "Guys, this is Jason. Jason, this is Willow, Buffy, Xander, and I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
"Kennedy," the dark haired girl said, twining her arm with Willow. There was a hint of a challenge in her gaze even as Oz didn't let anything show on his face. He just looked at her for a long moment, and if something dark moved behind his eyes it was just a glimmer.
"Oh, hey, nice to meet you," Jason said, trying to bury his reluctance. It wasn't their fault that they were taking his friend away.
"Nice to meet you right back," Willow said. "You've got blood on your face."
Jason rubbed his fingers over the spot she'd pointed to on his cheek. The blood was tacky feeling and gross. "Ugh. That's nasty."
"At least you still have pants on. Or I guess whatever you call pants." Oz's lips slanted in amusement.
Jason nudged his shoulder. "These are the best pants money can buy. They make my ass look super sexy."
"I'm sure," Oz said.
Jason caught the expression Willow was wearing, as though she were surprised by something. He wondered why she was looking at him like that.
"So, Oz-man, what's been going on with you?" Xander asked. "We were watching you through Willow's magic mirror and we saw all kinds of crazy. Like wolfed out violence to the point we were scared you were going to be killing and eating people soon. You haven't gone to the Dark Side, have you?"
"Of course not." Willow rolled her eyes. "There has to be some kind of explanation. Right Oz?"
"I wasn't going to kill and eat anyone," Oz said. "I don't know how much you saw, but I was attacked and had to fight back."
"That tiny angry lady looks completely messed up," Xander said, glancing toward Anita. There wasn't much to see as she was currently a mass of people trying to staunch her bleeding or revive her or something. "She's gonna have some really bad werewolf scars."
"She shouldn't be shooting at people," Oz said. He was completely blase about it, as though turning into a hulking beast and mauling Anita was something he did every day. It was a reminder to Jason that he hadn't known Oz for very long at all, and had no real clue what Oz had been like before they met.
For all he knew, Oz could have been a serial killer or something.
/ EXCERPT
Maybe I'll see if anyone out there wants to take over the rest of this version of the story, and I'll do a new version without the Scooby Gang. I think the reason I've been so stalled out is because I'm not really feeling my outline. I mean, I can see it all happening and I know how it's all supposed to go, but I don't feel like writing it.
Anyone interested in taking this story over? I can give you my outline and notes and help along the way if you want it, or you can go as you like.
Personally, I'm going back to Chapter Fifteen and reworking things from there. Just thinking about it makes me feel a bit of relief.
*
I've been working on my original stuff and trying to get it out there. The only problem is that I get all freaked out and end up sitting on a lot of it. What is wrong with my head?
EXCERPT --
The shop was quiet and still as Bastian reached beneath the counter for some handi-wipes. His fingers felt grimy after he'd feather-dusted the books and rearranged some of the shelves. It was just another boring Thursday.
Quickly wiping his hands clean, he threw the wipes in the garbage and settled down on the stool behind the cash register. He had another hour before he could lock up and head home. Not that he had much to look forward to there. Dinner and maybe a bit of TV. Thrilling.
Bastian sighed and pulled out the graphic novel he'd tucked onto the shelf under the counter edge. It wasn't the best, but he kind of wanted to finish it after investing so much time in it and having to special order it and all the drama he'd basically put himself through.
He'd probably read three pages when there was the cheerful jingle of the bells hanging from the door and he hurriedly looked up. He straightened his shoulders and tried to appear attentive. Then he got a good look at the customer and there was no way he could be anything else.
Standing in front of the double doors was a man in a gorgeous dark gray, nearly black suit and a dark maroon vest that matched his silk tie with an open gray trench coat over top. His brown hair was wind tousled and he pushed his silver framed glasses back up his nose with his finger as he stepped all the way into the store, his expensive Italian leather shoes clicking on the hardwood as he left the welcome mat. He was tall and broad shouldered and there was no way Bastian was hiding his ogling in any kind of real way, because holy crap, that was one good looking suit.
"Hello, can I help you?" Bastian asked. Covertly, he slipped his book back under the counter.
The man zeroed in on him and strode forward with a smile. "Yeah, do you think you can point me toward any copies of 'Alice In Wonderland' you have?"
Bastian stepped out from behind the counter. He hurriedly tugged his dark green bowling shirt straight and hoped he didn't look as messy as he felt. "We have new and used copies. Do you have a preference?"
"I've been collecting copies for my niece Alice, so if you have some nice used copies... That would be wonderful." He smiled, flashing a set of white-white teeth.
There was no way Bastian could help the heat that flashed through him. Dark brown hair, light caramel colored skin, and beautiful teeth--it was like all his buttons were being hit at once. There was even an authority vibe from the strong air of confidence shrouding the man and the fact that he had to be a good ten years older.
"Um, here, over here," Bastian said, then winced internally. He sounded like a total idiot, all breathless and pitchy.
He hurriedly led the way over to the Classics section, wondering if the guy was checking out his ass or not. Just the thought of it made his heart trip-thud in his chest. He'd thought he was beyond the whole schoolgirl crush thing, but obviously not. "We've got five collectible copies of 'Alice,'" he said, holding his hand out toward the dark cherry wood bookshelf and twisting around to give the guy a smile. "I remember glancing through them before they were shelved. Some of them have some very nice illustrations and one even has gold gilding."
The man grinned at him, showing off crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "That sounds perfect." He had a little bit of an upper-crust accent and that only added to the charm, and there was no way Bastian was indulging his English gentleman kink in his head, no way. Except he kind of was and more than anything he wanted the guy to put on a British accent and start talking about being a rogue demon hunter.
Bastian stepped sideways so the man could approach the bookcase and twisted his fingers together behind his back. He felt like his face was on fire and the hint of amusement in the man's eyes only made him feel more self-conscious and eager to please.
"Thank you," the man said, stepping toward the shelf and incidentally right into Bastian's personal space. He was a few inches taller and broader across the chest, which had Bastian curiously eying the breadth of his shoulders and the tug and pull of expensive fabric over his biceps, which Bastian couldn't help thinking might be muscular and strong and he wished the man wasn't wearing the overcoat or the suit jacket or really anything at all.
Bastian hurriedly backed up a few steps, his high tops stumbling over each other. Here was this good looking older guy in real grown up clothes while Bastian was wearing a bowling shirt, skinny jeans, and white sneakers. He hoped his face wasn't as red as he thought it was and he wished he'd gotten that haircut he'd been planning.
The man perused the shelves, his glasses glinting on his face as he turned his head, then carefully took down and flipped through the different editions. His hands were large and strong, the fingers elegant as he handled the books, his nails well maintained. "These are really very beautiful," he said, sounding pleased.
Bastian shrugged like it didn't matter even though he felt a thrill of delight. "We usually get something like those from private collections. People love old books and they hold onto them. It's kind of sad, but it's usually after the owner dies and their family is looking to make some money that we get a hold of them." He gestured at the books as he talked. "I made the selections on those. It was a toss up between a vintage edition of 'Lolita' and 'Alice.' I chose 'Alice.'"
"I think you made a good choice," the man said, smiling at him. "I'm going to take these two," he held up the leather-bound gilded edition and a whimsical, nearly cartoonish edition. "One looks nicely antique, and the other looks like it's off the Saturday morning cartoons. I think Alice will be really happy to get them."
"Will that be all?" Bastian asked, walking toward the front counter.
The man looked around, a regretful expression on his face. "I want to look around more, but this was my last stop for the day and I'm expected for dinner." Bastian felt a ridiculous rush of disappointment at the thought that the man might be married. "My sister is so impatient. There's no way she would forgive me if I was late because I was looking at books."
Bastian smiled brightly, unable to resist a burst of hope-hope-hope. "So you'll just have to come here again," he said, rocking forward on his toes a little as he dug his fingers against the metal edge of the cash register.
"I think I will," the man said, setting the books on the counter. The corners of his lips turned up as he looked at Bastian, his dark brown eyes so intense and focused that Bastian felt like he was the only thing the man could see. "I've always had a fascination for books and bookshops and... shopkeepers," his voice dipped at the last, a deep growling purr.
There was no way Bastian could keep the blush off his cheeks and he didn't really try all that hard, just ducked his chin and let his hair fall across his eyes. He started ringing up the books and put them in a paper bag. It was only after he'd finished his task that he looked up at the man.
"Um, that'll be $357.50," he said. "And if you wanted to come here again, I'm sure you could find something to interest you." Like me, went completely unsaid, though he thought it really loudly.
"Here you go," the man slid four crisp hundred dollar bills across the counter. "I caught a glimpse of some really interesting things in here. I'm fairly certain that you'll be seeing more of me in the future."
Bastian hurriedly made change and passed it over. Their fingers brushed and he couldn't stop a little hitching gasp. He met the man's eyes and felt such an intense want that he didn't think he hid it very well or at all. "It would be my pleasure if you came again," he said, his cheeks burning.
The man glanced at his watch and frowned regretfully before meeting Bastian's eyes again. "I wish I could stay longer now, but I've really got to go." He started walking toward the door, then turned back toward Bastian. "I promise I'll be back."
"I'll see you next time!" Bastian called, waving his hand and watching him go. Then once the door closed behind the man, he dropped his hand into his lap and his straight spine bowed and he thumped his forehead against the counter several times. "Smooth, real smooth."
If there was one thing he'd never managed to outgrow, it was his ability to act like a total spaz. For as long as he could remember, he'd always gotten flustered and stupid around people he liked even just a little bit.
It had to be the most embarrassing personality trait ever.
/ EXCERPT
Writing writing writing ...
I want a green house, a large outdoor food garden, a storage shed/workshop, and to pay off all my debt and help pay off the house. I also want the money to help those kids have good stuff in their classroom.
*
Dude, I am trying hard to write, but I've put tons of stress on myself. Still, I keep cranking away toward my daily word goals. I weep for myself most pitifully.
So there's this. The start of Chapter Eighteen of Off to See the Wizard. Unfortunately, I'm not liking the angle of this. I think I might do a rewrite. I don't feel like the Scooby Gang should have crossed over. I don't feel comfortable with them there.
EXCERPT--
He couldn't breathe.
He'd honestly started thinking he was going to be in this world forever, yet here was Willow. His beautiful red haired girl that he had and always would love forever.
When she wrapped her arms around him, he felt as though he were coming home. "I missed you," he whispered.
She pulled away enough to give him some seriously tragic eyes. "You left the world when no one was looking. You're not allowed to do something like that."
"I'm sorry," he said honestly. "It wasn't part of my grand plan."
Willow hugged him tightly. "It wasn't part of mine either. I'm so glad you're all right."
He had a sudden suspicion, but that was as near as she would get to a confession. Strangely, he was all right with that. She was his Willow-girl forever.
"Well, this is charming and all, but maybe there should be some introductions?" Oz pulled away from Willow, though she refused to release his hand and looked at Xander.
He was surprised to see the pirate patch, but it didn't seem like the kind of thing to bring up at the moment.
"Xander," he said.
"Oz." Xander gave him a solemn nod. "How you doing buddy?" His eye drifted around the room purposefully. Oz hadn't realized he'd gotten so subtle.
"Doing all right." Oz licked his lips and took them in. Willow had on her serious face. Xander had an eye patch and a serious air of confidence to him. Buffy was trying to play the innocent girl in front of the crowd, but she had a dagger hidden against her arm. There was a dark haired girl giving him a piercing, evaluating look for someone and he was tempted to ask what was her deal.
"It's nice you guys came to take me home," he said.
"We saw you getting a little aggressive before we came through," Buffy said in her best "I am the world police" voice. It was the same tone she'd used when he was rescued from the Army boys, only that time it was directed at someone else.
"Stuff was going down," Oz said. It was only good sense that he keep his hands safely in view. He didn't think she was going to see him as an enemy, but sometimes Slayers were a bit feral even when they didn't realize it. He'd long ago made the Hellmouth vow that he wasn't going to be one of those guys killed by his friends. So it was better to be safe than sorry.
"Monsieur Oz, perhaps you could introduce your guests," Jean-Claude interjected. His tone could have melted butter with all the sexual heat in it, but Oz could smell the unease. Vampires in this world were incredibly touchy about people showing up in their territory unexpectedly.
Oz turned to the Master of the City and tried to smooth any ruffled feathers. "These are my friends. Willow Rosenberg, Xander Harris, and Buffy Summers." He didn't say anything about the other girl, not willing to claim someone he didn't know as a friend. "I think they're here to take me home."
"I see." Jean-Claude studied them with interest before giving Oz a sharp look. His face was a pleasant mask, but his eyes had gone solid blue and the air around him had a weight to it. "And are these the friends you joined in hunting vampires? Your little band of murderous vampire hunters?"
Oz didn't see any reason to lie. Practically everyone in the room would be able to smell it on him. "Yes," he said. "These are my friends."
"I see. And are many more of your acquaintances going to make an appearance in my city?" Jean-Claude asked.
Oz shrugged. "I didn't even know these ones would be here."
He was actually pretty shocked. From what he could understand of it, jumping worlds was usually something done by demons. Human magic users tended to die horrible deaths as they were torn apart by a mix of cosmic energy and losing contact with their homegrown center of power.
For Willow to be here, she needed to be a lot more powerful than he remembered. The title of Number One Witch in North America seemed to be well earned.
"Hey guys," he said. "Wasn't expecting you here."
"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition," Xander joked. He had his patented goofy look on his face, pretending to be the helpless merely human face of the Scooby gang. Except that he was keeping his eyes tracking around the room, assessing threat levels and marking exits.
"I missed you," Oz said. And he had. Missed them all in the way of an old limb that got a bit gangrenous and had to be removed if he was going to survive. Didn't mean he didn't think of them all sometimes, and that timeless high school friendship and first real love that he'd been sure would last forever.
Looking at Willow though, it was obvious that they'd all grown up, become different people. She was still beautiful and there was still that ache in his chest when he saw her face and knew she wasn't his anymore, but that time was over.
Still, he couldn't help sinking into her embrace when she wrapped her arms around him. Laying his head on her shoulder felt natural and right.
Still my Willow, he thought and only felt a little foolish. Because she still smelt like strawberries and warm girl. She still felt like home in his arms.
* * *
Knowing that Oz had come from a different world was completely different than watching other visitors appear. It opened up the possibility that Oz was going to leave, and honestly Jason didn't want to see that happen.
They'd only known each other for a little while, but he didn't want Oz to leave. He wanted to yell at him that he had to stay, but he knew that was childish and weird. They were just friends, nothing more.
But you want it to be something more, don't you?
He ignored that insidious voice and tried to be glad for Oz being able to go back home if he wanted.
"Jason, come meet my friends." Oz held his hand out toward him. "Guys, this is Jason. Jason, this is Willow, Buffy, Xander, and I'm sorry, I don't know your name."
"Kennedy," the dark haired girl said, twining her arm with Willow. There was a hint of a challenge in her gaze even as Oz didn't let anything show on his face. He just looked at her for a long moment, and if something dark moved behind his eyes it was just a glimmer.
"Oh, hey, nice to meet you," Jason said, trying to bury his reluctance. It wasn't their fault that they were taking his friend away.
"Nice to meet you right back," Willow said. "You've got blood on your face."
Jason rubbed his fingers over the spot she'd pointed to on his cheek. The blood was tacky feeling and gross. "Ugh. That's nasty."
"At least you still have pants on. Or I guess whatever you call pants." Oz's lips slanted in amusement.
Jason nudged his shoulder. "These are the best pants money can buy. They make my ass look super sexy."
"I'm sure," Oz said.
Jason caught the expression Willow was wearing, as though she were surprised by something. He wondered why she was looking at him like that.
"So, Oz-man, what's been going on with you?" Xander asked. "We were watching you through Willow's magic mirror and we saw all kinds of crazy. Like wolfed out violence to the point we were scared you were going to be killing and eating people soon. You haven't gone to the Dark Side, have you?"
"Of course not." Willow rolled her eyes. "There has to be some kind of explanation. Right Oz?"
"I wasn't going to kill and eat anyone," Oz said. "I don't know how much you saw, but I was attacked and had to fight back."
"That tiny angry lady looks completely messed up," Xander said, glancing toward Anita. There wasn't much to see as she was currently a mass of people trying to staunch her bleeding or revive her or something. "She's gonna have some really bad werewolf scars."
"She shouldn't be shooting at people," Oz said. He was completely blase about it, as though turning into a hulking beast and mauling Anita was something he did every day. It was a reminder to Jason that he hadn't known Oz for very long at all, and had no real clue what Oz had been like before they met.
For all he knew, Oz could have been a serial killer or something.
/ EXCERPT
Maybe I'll see if anyone out there wants to take over the rest of this version of the story, and I'll do a new version without the Scooby Gang. I think the reason I've been so stalled out is because I'm not really feeling my outline. I mean, I can see it all happening and I know how it's all supposed to go, but I don't feel like writing it.
Anyone interested in taking this story over? I can give you my outline and notes and help along the way if you want it, or you can go as you like.
Personally, I'm going back to Chapter Fifteen and reworking things from there. Just thinking about it makes me feel a bit of relief.
*
I've been working on my original stuff and trying to get it out there. The only problem is that I get all freaked out and end up sitting on a lot of it. What is wrong with my head?
EXCERPT --
The shop was quiet and still as Bastian reached beneath the counter for some handi-wipes. His fingers felt grimy after he'd feather-dusted the books and rearranged some of the shelves. It was just another boring Thursday.
Quickly wiping his hands clean, he threw the wipes in the garbage and settled down on the stool behind the cash register. He had another hour before he could lock up and head home. Not that he had much to look forward to there. Dinner and maybe a bit of TV. Thrilling.
Bastian sighed and pulled out the graphic novel he'd tucked onto the shelf under the counter edge. It wasn't the best, but he kind of wanted to finish it after investing so much time in it and having to special order it and all the drama he'd basically put himself through.
He'd probably read three pages when there was the cheerful jingle of the bells hanging from the door and he hurriedly looked up. He straightened his shoulders and tried to appear attentive. Then he got a good look at the customer and there was no way he could be anything else.
Standing in front of the double doors was a man in a gorgeous dark gray, nearly black suit and a dark maroon vest that matched his silk tie with an open gray trench coat over top. His brown hair was wind tousled and he pushed his silver framed glasses back up his nose with his finger as he stepped all the way into the store, his expensive Italian leather shoes clicking on the hardwood as he left the welcome mat. He was tall and broad shouldered and there was no way Bastian was hiding his ogling in any kind of real way, because holy crap, that was one good looking suit.
"Hello, can I help you?" Bastian asked. Covertly, he slipped his book back under the counter.
The man zeroed in on him and strode forward with a smile. "Yeah, do you think you can point me toward any copies of 'Alice In Wonderland' you have?"
Bastian stepped out from behind the counter. He hurriedly tugged his dark green bowling shirt straight and hoped he didn't look as messy as he felt. "We have new and used copies. Do you have a preference?"
"I've been collecting copies for my niece Alice, so if you have some nice used copies... That would be wonderful." He smiled, flashing a set of white-white teeth.
There was no way Bastian could help the heat that flashed through him. Dark brown hair, light caramel colored skin, and beautiful teeth--it was like all his buttons were being hit at once. There was even an authority vibe from the strong air of confidence shrouding the man and the fact that he had to be a good ten years older.
"Um, here, over here," Bastian said, then winced internally. He sounded like a total idiot, all breathless and pitchy.
He hurriedly led the way over to the Classics section, wondering if the guy was checking out his ass or not. Just the thought of it made his heart trip-thud in his chest. He'd thought he was beyond the whole schoolgirl crush thing, but obviously not. "We've got five collectible copies of 'Alice,'" he said, holding his hand out toward the dark cherry wood bookshelf and twisting around to give the guy a smile. "I remember glancing through them before they were shelved. Some of them have some very nice illustrations and one even has gold gilding."
The man grinned at him, showing off crinkles at the corners of his eyes. "That sounds perfect." He had a little bit of an upper-crust accent and that only added to the charm, and there was no way Bastian was indulging his English gentleman kink in his head, no way. Except he kind of was and more than anything he wanted the guy to put on a British accent and start talking about being a rogue demon hunter.
Bastian stepped sideways so the man could approach the bookcase and twisted his fingers together behind his back. He felt like his face was on fire and the hint of amusement in the man's eyes only made him feel more self-conscious and eager to please.
"Thank you," the man said, stepping toward the shelf and incidentally right into Bastian's personal space. He was a few inches taller and broader across the chest, which had Bastian curiously eying the breadth of his shoulders and the tug and pull of expensive fabric over his biceps, which Bastian couldn't help thinking might be muscular and strong and he wished the man wasn't wearing the overcoat or the suit jacket or really anything at all.
Bastian hurriedly backed up a few steps, his high tops stumbling over each other. Here was this good looking older guy in real grown up clothes while Bastian was wearing a bowling shirt, skinny jeans, and white sneakers. He hoped his face wasn't as red as he thought it was and he wished he'd gotten that haircut he'd been planning.
The man perused the shelves, his glasses glinting on his face as he turned his head, then carefully took down and flipped through the different editions. His hands were large and strong, the fingers elegant as he handled the books, his nails well maintained. "These are really very beautiful," he said, sounding pleased.
Bastian shrugged like it didn't matter even though he felt a thrill of delight. "We usually get something like those from private collections. People love old books and they hold onto them. It's kind of sad, but it's usually after the owner dies and their family is looking to make some money that we get a hold of them." He gestured at the books as he talked. "I made the selections on those. It was a toss up between a vintage edition of 'Lolita' and 'Alice.' I chose 'Alice.'"
"I think you made a good choice," the man said, smiling at him. "I'm going to take these two," he held up the leather-bound gilded edition and a whimsical, nearly cartoonish edition. "One looks nicely antique, and the other looks like it's off the Saturday morning cartoons. I think Alice will be really happy to get them."
"Will that be all?" Bastian asked, walking toward the front counter.
The man looked around, a regretful expression on his face. "I want to look around more, but this was my last stop for the day and I'm expected for dinner." Bastian felt a ridiculous rush of disappointment at the thought that the man might be married. "My sister is so impatient. There's no way she would forgive me if I was late because I was looking at books."
Bastian smiled brightly, unable to resist a burst of hope-hope-hope. "So you'll just have to come here again," he said, rocking forward on his toes a little as he dug his fingers against the metal edge of the cash register.
"I think I will," the man said, setting the books on the counter. The corners of his lips turned up as he looked at Bastian, his dark brown eyes so intense and focused that Bastian felt like he was the only thing the man could see. "I've always had a fascination for books and bookshops and... shopkeepers," his voice dipped at the last, a deep growling purr.
There was no way Bastian could keep the blush off his cheeks and he didn't really try all that hard, just ducked his chin and let his hair fall across his eyes. He started ringing up the books and put them in a paper bag. It was only after he'd finished his task that he looked up at the man.
"Um, that'll be $357.50," he said. "And if you wanted to come here again, I'm sure you could find something to interest you." Like me, went completely unsaid, though he thought it really loudly.
"Here you go," the man slid four crisp hundred dollar bills across the counter. "I caught a glimpse of some really interesting things in here. I'm fairly certain that you'll be seeing more of me in the future."
Bastian hurriedly made change and passed it over. Their fingers brushed and he couldn't stop a little hitching gasp. He met the man's eyes and felt such an intense want that he didn't think he hid it very well or at all. "It would be my pleasure if you came again," he said, his cheeks burning.
The man glanced at his watch and frowned regretfully before meeting Bastian's eyes again. "I wish I could stay longer now, but I've really got to go." He started walking toward the door, then turned back toward Bastian. "I promise I'll be back."
"I'll see you next time!" Bastian called, waving his hand and watching him go. Then once the door closed behind the man, he dropped his hand into his lap and his straight spine bowed and he thumped his forehead against the counter several times. "Smooth, real smooth."
If there was one thing he'd never managed to outgrow, it was his ability to act like a total spaz. For as long as he could remember, he'd always gotten flustered and stupid around people he liked even just a little bit.
It had to be the most embarrassing personality trait ever.
/ EXCERPT
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