by K A Riley
I wasn’t a rambunctious child anymore, but much as I was looking forward to one day leaving this town, I did love the comfort of its familiar streets and neighborhoods. The old houses with stories to tell, the wrap-around porches where people sat quietly in the summer months, watching the world pass them by. I loved that I knew the name of every dog on our block, and that they often came out to greet me as I passed by.
I’d lost so much in this town when my parents had died that part of me wanted to leave and never look back. But Fairhaven held so many warm memories that it was hard to imagine ever fully letting it go. Still, with Will leaving for college, there was little to keep me here.
“So,” I said, hoping to take my mind off the pending assault of loneliness, “I feel like I should ask you what terrible birthday surprise you’re about to throw my way, Liv.”
She shot me a shifty sideways glance before she began to skip along the sidewalk like an excited five-year-old who really needs to pee. “Okay, I’ll tell you,” she said. “Two words: Callum. Drake. You’re going to love him so much. He’s tall and handsome, and he has the nicest—”
“Wait. Whoa. Stop for a sec! What are you even talking about?”
“Callum Drake!” Liv repeated, like that should have cleared everything up. “He’s just started working at the Novel Hovel.”
The Hovel had been my favorite place in the world since the moment I’d learned to read. I’d stopped in at least once a month for the last ten years, whether I intended to buy anything or not. I don’t know if it was the smell of the place, the reverential silence, or the opportunity it gave me to take a break from the world, but I considered the Hovel my safe haven and my home away from home.
It was not, however, a place I associated with checking out boys.
“Are you serious?” I asked, my brows meeting in something approaching anger.
“Just wait until you see him…” Liv’s voice trailed off like she was about to swoon into a Victorian, mid-sentence faint. “He’s easily the hottest guy Fairhaven has ever seen. He’s tall—did I already say that? So tall.”
“Uh-huh.”
“He’s also sooo smart. He knows everything about everything. Not to mention he has the most incredible cheekbones and the best accent. Oh man, his accent…”
“What accent?” I asked.
“He’s English. A Brit.”
“So what? My grandmother is English.”
“Yeah, well, Callum isn’t your grandmother, believe me. His voice is like velvet and silk got together and took a bath in melted chocolate.”
“Sounds delicious. And completely undigestible. How do you even know about this guy, anyhow? You’ve been gone for ages.”
“My parents had him over for dinner after we got home yesterday. I mean, they had him and his parents over. His father just started working in my dad’s law office. So basically, I got to stare across our dining room table at Callum for two whole hours last night, which was amazing.” In typical fashion, she was rambling a mile a minute, the words coming faster than an auctioneer’s. “He even eats chicken parmigiana like a Roman god. The point is, you’re going to lose your mind over him.”
“Uh-huh. Tell me, when have I ever lost my mind over a guy?”
“Never. Because you’re infuriatingly chaste, not to mention downright hostile toward every guy you meet,” Liv laughed. “You have to promise me you’ll be nice to him, though. He’s so…dreamy.”
“Dreamy? Really? Did we just time-warp back to the 1950s? Does he have his hair slicked back and a pack of cigarettes rolled up in the sleeve of his white t-shirt?”
Liv gave me a dismissive wave of her hand. “I promise, you’ll die twice before you hit the ground when you lay eyes on him.”
“In that case, I hope I never lay my eyes on him. I know it’s weird, but I generally prefer being alive.”
“Well, the point is, you have to meet him, if for no other reason than that he was asking about you.”
“Oh? Why’s that?” I asked, doing my best to pretend I didn’t much care about the answer.
Liv shrugged. “Dunno. He just said he’d heard there was a girl called Vega who liked to come into the shop. It seems your book-wormishness has made you famous. Anyhow, it sounds like you’re not interested in him, so we’ll just have to see how you feel when you actually meet him.”
“Works for me.”
Liv let the subject drop, and we walked in silence for a time, enjoying the fresh air and cool breeze.
“Oh, hey,” she finally blurted out, “are you going to Midsummer Fest tonight?”
I’d all but forgotten about the candlelit procession and rowdy parade that took place downtown each year on the last Friday of July. Nearly everyone in town showed up at sundown, dressed in masks of all kinds, from cutesy animal heads to terrifying monsters. The strange, noisy gathering made its way down a series of residential streets, candles and noise-makers in hand, before finishing at the entrance to Norfolk Commons, the town’s one and only large park. No one seemed to know how the tradition had started, but the whole thing amounted to a creepy, feral parade I sort of enjoyed. Much as I usually abhorred socializing, the anonymity provided by a mask made this particular public outing almost tolerable.
“I’m not sure I’m going,” I replied. “I mean, maybe I will, I don’t know. It depends.”
“What the hell kind of wishy-washy answer is that?” Liv laughed, shouldering me so hard I went stumbling off the sidewalk onto someone’s front lawn.
“You know me,” I said, skipping back onto the concrete walkway. “Non-committal is my middle name. Anyhow, Will’s getting home today, so I’ll go if he—”
“What?” Liv squealed, her eyes going wide as she stopped in her tracks and turned my way. “Will’s going to be in town? When can I see him? How long will he be here? You have to tell him to come out tonight. I need to see my future husband just once before he goes off to college.”
I barely suppressed the desire to fake-gag. Liv’s unabashed, ongoing crush on my older brother had begun when she was about seven years old, and she’d never made any effort whatsoever to hide it, despite the fact that Will had consistently treated her like nothing more than his little sister’s best friend.
“I’m sure he’d regret it if he missed out on an opportunity to get drooled on by his insane future wife before he takes off for four years.”
Liv snort-laughed. “If you two do show up at Midsummer Fest, keep an eye out for me. I’ll be wearing a giant zebra head.”
“Of course you will,” I replied, inhaling a deep breath of fresh air as we approached Norfolk Commons, the sprawling park where the Midsummer Fest Procession would be held that evening. As Liv and I turned onto High Street and began to pass the park, we saw the endless strings of lights draped on all the trees in preparation for the evening’s festivities.
Two security officers in yellow reflective vests were cordoning off an area by one of the concessions stands where the ladies from St. Francis Church would be selling an array of cookies and confections later that night. Just beyond them, a crew of groundskeepers was busy trimming some of the hedges, cutting the grass, and hauling large brown sacks of branches and leaves over to a big blue pickup truck parked halfway across the jogging path.
As Liv and I passed, one of the groundskeepers, a tall man I’d never seen before, looked at me and narrowed his dark eyes, lifting a hand as though he was about to wave but thought better of it. I peered over at Liv to see if she’d noticed, but she was busy yammering on about how much she was looking forward to wearing her zebra’s head that night. When I turned to look back, the stranger was still staring at me, sending a chill skittering down my spine.
“Did you see that?” I asked Liv.
“See what?”
“That man—the one in the coveralls. He just looked at me and kind of waved, like he knew me.”
“Does he?” she asked, turning around to look.
“I don’t think so. I’m prett
y sure I’d remember that face.”
“Maybe he sensed it was your special day and was sending you mental happy birthday wishes.”
“Yeah,” I said with a guffaw. “I’m sure that’s it.”
“Come on,” Liv replied with a shrug. “Let’s cross here.”
Grabbing me by the hand, she practically dragged me across the street and over to the Novel Hovel. The clunky brass bell hanging above the door to the bookstore clanged to announce our arrival, and we stepped into the musty shop, Liv in full golden retriever mode as she scanned the place for her mysterious dreamboat.
“Down, girl,” I commanded, wishing I had a leash.
“You should be hunting for him, too,” Liv insisted. “You don’t get what you want without going after it.”
“What I want right now is to find something to read other than what Mrs. Romanowski is going to assign us in English class this year.”
Liv paused and gave me a long, accusing look. “You already read all the books on her syllabus, didn’t you?”
“Maybe.”
“Nerd.”
“Zebra head.”
“And proud of it. Anyhow, I’m going to look for Mr. Handsome-Face, since you’re being a lame-ass.”
“Enjoy your prowling,” I replied with a wink. “I’ll be on the hunt for a few good books to hook up with.”
As Liv ducked down the Philosophy and Self-Help aisle, I split off and made my way to the sale table at the back of the store where I picked up the closest book I could find, a collection of essays about the history of women in war, and began to leaf through it.
“That’s an excellent choice,” said a deep, English-accented voice from just behind me. “The essay by Margaret Billingsly on Florence Nightingale is especially perceptive. I highly recommend it.”
I knew before I’d even turned around that this had to be the boy Liv described. The voice. The knowledge. The accent, which was nothing at all like my grandmother’s, yet oddly similar. It was lilting, like waves washing up on a pebble-coated beach. It was the kind of voice that made everything seem right with the world, the kind of voice that could become addictive very quickly. Which meant that I needed to counter it with a smartass remark as soon as humanly possible.
But when I swung around to reply, I found myself gasping instead.
Liv had been dead wrong about Callum Drake’s looks.
He wasn’t merely handsome.
He was exquisitely beautiful—in a polished, broad-shouldered, diamond-blue-eyed kind of way that made me wish a hole would open up in the floor and swallow me whole so I could escape his blinding perfection.
He was at least six-foot-two, with a strong, square jaw, and he carried himself with a confidence no seventeen-year-old should have. To make matters worse, he was wearing a form-fitting blood red t-shirt and dark jeans that showed off the powerful build of an athlete.
Damn you, Liv, for bringing me here.
Despite the casualness of the boy’s attire, something in his face and demeanor was oddly elegant. Regal, even. But the most disconcerting thing of all was the way he was looking at me, like he could see right through me. I couldn’t seem to fight off the feeling that he was reading my thoughts and emotions all at once, without even trying.
My heart started hammering in my chest, perspiration pooling at the small of my back, and I found myself wishing for a distraction—another customer, a fire alarm, an alien invasion—anything I might use as a legitimate excuse to look away.
Suddenly I remembered I was holding a book. I set it down and shrugged, hoping Callum didn’t see my jaw clench up with nervous excitement. “It’s not my usual fare,” I said as coolly as possible. “I prefer slow, plodding novels with zero plot, terrible characters, and nothing perceptive about them at all.”
“A masochist, then?”
I was just getting ready to stammer out a response when Liv came shrieking around a corner.
“Callum, there you are! This is Vega Sloane!” she said, skidding up and stopping just shy of barreling into the guy’s chest. “You were asking about her last night. She’s my bestie. Her father’s side of the family is from England, just like you!” She offered up the information as if it should be enough to cement our engagement and subsequent happy marriage.
“Vega. Like the star in the Lyra constellation,” Callum said. “It suits you.” Smiling, he held out a hand.
I was frozen, my mind twisting around itself as I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do. Did I shake his hand? Did anyone ever shake the hand of a boy who was as beautiful as he was? There was something so noble, so otherworldly about this boy-who-looked-like-a-man who was busy looking into my eyes, reading my soul like he was flipping through the morning paper. He looked like he should be leading an army or ruling a country from a golden throne, not standing here talking to someone like me in the middle of a dusty old bookstore.
Idiot, I told myself. He’s not a demi-god. He’s just some teenager with a Wikipedia-like intellect, impossibly perfect features, an amazing voice, and…a mesmerizing smile.
Damn him.
Grumbling internally at myself, I pressed my hand into his and shook it, trying my hardest to relax my tense body. “Hi,” I murmured.
“Hi.” He looked amused, like my embarrassing awkwardness was entertaining him. I couldn’t help wondering if every girl he met reacted the same way.
“And yes, it’s like the star,” I said. “My name, I mean.” I chewed nervously on the inside of my cheek, but I still didn’t pull my gaze away for fear that if I did so, he might disappear.
Liv let out a third-grade giggle. “Jeez, Vega, if you’re going to stare like that, why don’t you just snap a photo with your phone?” she asked.
I shot her a glare, my cheeks heating with mortification. “Sorry,” I said, pulling my eyes to the floor. “I just…”
“You’re just confused about which book you want to read,” Callum said, reaching past me to the table and grabbing a thick white paperback with a sword on its cover. Either he was oblivious to the fact I’d been gawking, or he was kind enough to pretend to be oblivious. Either way, I was grateful. “Might I suggest this one?” he asked. “It’ll take you out of this world and put you in a whole new one. Which, in my experience, is never a bad thing.”
“Have you read it?” I asked, glancing at the cover without registering any information whatsoever.
“I have. Something tells me you’ll find it very…informative.”
“Okay,” I replied, mesmerized by his unbelievable eyes, which seemed to shimmer in the dull light of the dusty shop. It must have been the energy-saving overhead bulbs that did it. No one’s eyes naturally looked like limpid pools I suddenly and inexplicably wanted to go skinny dipping in.
Yeah, that was it. Definitely the light bulbs.
“I’ll give it a shot,” I said.
“Oh, hey! It’s Vega’s birthday!” Liv interrupted, clearly bored by all the book talk.
“Is that so?” Callum said as he led us to the front of the shop and slipped around behind the counter. “In that case, I definitely can’t let you pay for the book.” He reached down, pulled a paper bag from underneath the counter. He slipped the novel inside the bag and he held it out to me, a glint of amusement in those perfect blue eyes.
“Oh, I couldn’t…” I began, but he shook his head.
“Of course you can. Happy Birthday, Vega.”
I smiled. The way he said my name was oddly soothing, like he’d added music to the two syllables. His voice really was unlike any I’d ever heard. Maybe it was his particular accent, or else an odd hint of maturity most teenage boys lacked. I was so used to hearing squeaky-voiced adolescent boys who hadn’t quite grown into manhood. Either way, it was a nice change from the usual.
As I took the package from Callum, his fingers grazed against mine, sending a shock of heat to my cheeks. I told myself I shouldn’t have enjoyed the accidental contact nearly so much. There was a danger in the fleeti
ng moment of pleasure I’d shielded myself from for years, and the thought of becoming vulnerable now both thrilled and terrified me.
“Any special plans for your birthday? Are you going out tonight?” he asked, which only accelerated my raging pulse once again. Boys didn’t usually ask me what I was up to on a Friday night. Then again, boys didn’t usually speak to me at all.
Liv elbowed me impatiently as if to say Stop being a mute idiot.
“I…I mean, I might go to Midsummer Fest tonight,” I shrugged. “I’m not really into birthdays, ever since my parents…I mean, I’m just not into birthdays.”
“Me neither,” he replied, an odd flash of sympathy slipping over his face. “Once you’ve had enough of them, they all begin to blend into one another.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. He couldn’t have been much older than I was, yet he was talking as if he’d had eighty birthdays and had grown sick of them.
“Are you going to be there, Callum?” Liv asked. “At Midsummer Fest, I mean.”
“I will,” he replied. “I figure it’s a great way to get to know the town.”
“More like a way to find out how weird our town is,” I said.
“True,” Callum replied. “Of course, one person’s ‘weird’ is another person’s ‘wonderful.’”
“And which are you?” I asked, stunned that such a brazen comment came out of my usually reserved mouth.
“I believe,” he said with a wry smile, “that’s for you to find out.”
After a moment of strained silence, I finally blurted out, “Well, we should get going. Liv needs her caffeine. It seems she hasn’t bounced off enough walls today.”
“Fair enough. I’ll see you, Liv.” Callum said before softly adding, “Take care, Vega. Watch for strangers.” From the tone of his voice, he sounded as though he was genuinely concerned that something might happen to me.
“I will,” I replied, daring another look at him as I drew in a deep breath, trying in vain to calm my out-of-control heart.
