Dewey Belong Together

by Smartypants Romance

  Patty clapped a hand over her mouth, then giggled a little too. “I’m so sorry, Maxine! I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here before. You look so, so—”

  “Different?” Max asked, beaming. Frickin’ beaming. I knew there was a bright and brilliant person behind the vinegary wall she had up for me.

  “Hot!” Patty replied with a wide grin. “Now what can I get for you, hon?”

  Max blushed. “I’ll take some sweet tea and some water as well, and we’d like a couple of burgers. Thanks, Patty.”

  “Sure thing!” She walked off with almost a tiny jig in her step, like it chirked her up to see Maxine out on the town.

  I’d be lying if I said it didn’t turn me on to see her take charge and order for me. Thank God I wasn’t a vegetarian because I think I’d eat whatever she asked for, on principle. It just so happened that she’d ordered my favorite food. I was about to take a leap and ask Max if she wanted to dance while we waited for our order when she got up and excused herself for the restroom. I glanced around at the patrons of Genie’s, wondering how all of these people had been blind to the amazeballs person in their midst, when she wasn’t dressed up like a siren.

  It was obvious that despite being well liked, Max didn’t have many offline friends. That stack of brand spankin’ new board games spoke to that. To be fair, it wasn’t like I did either. It was hard to game as often as we did, work, and maintain a social life offline. Not that I minded. My guildies were my friends, and I was lucky to have them. At least I had always thought so. But what about Max? I had counted her among those friends. Who else might hate me? God, I wish I could have a drink.

  Max hadn't been out of her seat for thirty seconds when a pair of women butted up against the table, the tall redhead acting like she was in heat by the way she ran her hand down my tattoo sleeve on my left arm. I loathed the way people thought having tats meant they could touch you, like it was open season. It was the same with my long hair. I’d had it touched by a fair number of women before, while at the grocery store, while out with Norman, whenever. That’s why I’d taken to tying it back. I also braided it, but I drew the line at a man-bun. No way was I cutting it, but I also wanted to limit the amount of strangers who put their hands in it.

  "What's a fine man like you doing in here with Maxine Peters?" the redhead purred. She pouted as I firmly removed her hand.

  "Why wouldn't I be with her?" I asked back, my hackles rising. I didn't like the way she said Max's name. Like she was implying that Max shouldn't be out having fun. Or rather that there was something about our respective appearances or ages or some other intangible that meant Max shouldn't be out with me.

  "It's only that we don't see Miss Maxine around here too often. And never out of her frumpy office garb," the brunette jumped in, evidently sensing a disturbance in the Force.

  "Yeah, that woman never met a corduroy skirt she could ignore." The redhead snorted. "Or a doughnut. The only place I've ever seen her besides the Piggly Wiggly is at Daisy's—alone—stuffing doughnuts down her trap. It’s no wonder she’s so … jiggly. Hey, jiggly rhymes with Piggly." She burst into laughter and moved to sit down on the side of the booth Max had vacated.

  "Don't even think about it," I said, leveling a stare at the redhead. "Miss Maxine might be a joke to you, but she means a hell of a lot to me. You should be ashamed, talking to a perfect stranger about a fine woman you would be lucky to be friends with. Scram, before you make me mad. If you were a guy, I’d have you laid out on the floor already."

  "Let's go, Marnie," the sane and sober friend said as she practically yanked the redhead away from the table.

  Smiling in deep satisfaction, I watched them scurry off just in time for Max to reemerge from the ladies' room. She got a couple of eager looks from men while crossing the room, and I irrationally wanted to pummel everyone who thought they had the right to undress my woman with their eyes. My woman.

  Mine.

  The thought hit me out of nowhere, but that really was how I saw Max. Even before arriving, I had caveman-like proprietary aspirations toward Maximus. I had come to Green Valley with every intention of declaring my love to Maximus_Damage, a dude. Now I was faced with the reality of wooing a woman who detested me. But as I looked at her, her head down a bit as those curves shimmied through the crowd, all of my doubts melted away. I would win her over, even if that meant sharing my truth, in all its ugliness.

  After downing our drinks and most of our meal in a fairly awkward silence, I decided to hit the gas and move along Max’s original plan for the evening. Speed dating sounded perfect right about now.

  "So we're supposed to be finding out real stuff about each other, right?" I asked, holding onto a fry and dipping it into ketchup.

  "That was the plan," she replied, blotting at her mouth with her napkin.

  "Okay. So building on the theme of this fantabulous visit where I annoy the shit out of you, you were pretty pissed earlier when I called you a librarian. I'm sorry about that. I try to be funny sometimes and I miss the mark." She snorted. I ignored the sound of derision and forged ahead with Plan Seduction. "Could you tell me what it is you like about being a librarian?" I munched down the fry and waited for her.

  "Do you … care?" she asked slowly, tentatively, as though testing the ground for verbal land mines.

  "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," I replied, hating that I was going to have to prove at every step of the way that I was not Max's enemy. But hell, if pulling teeth was the only way to earn a spot in Max's circle of trust, I would do it. Because I already knew she was worth it.

  “Okay,” she said, placing her napkin back on the table. “Well, the library was always a place of refuge for me here in Green Valley. Things weren’t always rosy at home. But at the library I learned that a book is more than an object you place on a shelf. A book is magic. It’s freaking magic, and not enough people get that. See, a book can transport someone to another place, another time. It can make them see the world through the eyes of someone else. Through a book you can commune with the dead, learn about people living completely different lives than you. Then you can join in communities of other people who have been touched by the same book and lived that special experience. That's magic.”

  I watched the excitement on her face and the shine in her eyes, and I wanted to look at it for as long as I possibly could.

  "So anyway, I knew I wanted to work with books. And as a cataloger, that's what I get to do. I know the library collections of every branch in this part of the state backward and forward because I create and maintain those records. And those books, all of them, are in their own way special to me."

  I considered that for a moment, then nodded, agreeing with her assessment. But something was missing. "Did you always want to do that part of it? The records, I mean. What about the people who interact with the books?"

  Her cheeks reddened. She had to stop doing that. It drove me a little crazy to see the impact of my words on her. Not that I wanted to embarrass her, but I wanted her to feel something with me other than revulsion.

  "I did have aspirations to work with children, but you know, sometimes we're good at something we don't expect, or life gets in the way of the dreams we chase. Me winding up in the basement cataloging was kind of a combination of those things." She bit her bottom lip and dipped her head before looking back up with a bit of mirth in her eyes. “I get to ask the next question.”

  “Okay, shoot.” I braced myself, expecting anything and everything. This was the same person who was beyond ruthless when processing applications to our guild, interviewing people for over an hour, drilling them on every aspect of the game and their play style. She wanted to interrogate me? Bring it on.

  “Why are you such an asshole?” she blurted, and then quickly raised her hand. “Okay, wait, hold up. Let me clarify. Why are you such an asshole to me in the game? I don’t remember ever doing anything to you to deserve it, and yet you’ve been bloody impossible at times. Do you know how frea
ked I was that you’d be coming this week? Because in my mind, you’re the closest thing to an archnemesis I’ve ever had, other than the Iron Wraiths. And yet, here you are, in my hometown, acting all normal for the most part, and I can’t figure it out. You. I can’t figure you out.”

  “Who or what are the Iron Wraiths? I’ve never heard of that guild,” was my first takeaway from that speech. If there were people out there gunning for Max, I wanted to know who and where they were.

  She looked annoyed and took a huge swig of her water. “They’re a local biker gang,” she said, waving away my question with her hand. “Less stalling, more talking.” She banged the empty cup down on the table, reminding me a little of a Viking warrior who likes their drink and wants another.

  “Would you even believe the truth, Maximus?” I asked, cocking my head to one side, a frown on my face. God, please let her believe the truth.

  “If you tell me something is true, I will do my best to believe it, yes. Unless this is like that time I had dry scalp and you convinced me I had head lice.” Well, crap. Of course she'd remember that. I’d been nineteen at the time, and yes, I had been a hormonal and petty shit for most of my teen years. But I had never meant any real harm to anyone.

  I sucked in a big breath for courage. “It's not like that at all. The truth is, I’ve never tried to be an asshole, not once. It was never deliberate, any of the stuff I’ve done unintentionally—or intentionally—to wrong you. Most of the time I was trying to get your attention because I admire you and your skills as a player and a leader, and as a human being in general. You're great. I was trying to …" I trailed off when I saw Max lift a hand to cover her mouth, trying to conceal her laughter.

  "I'm sorry, but are you serious? You expect me to buy that cow patty you're calling a pie?" Her eyes danced and her shoulders moved as she tried to contain her laughing fit.

  I deflated. "Okay, screw this. Let's dance." I rose from the booth and extended a hand to her, grinning at the surprise on her face, and raised an eyebrow in challenge. She slowly raised her hand and placed it in mine, as if she were waiting for me to pull my hand back and say, "psych!"

  I clasped her hand and helped her rise from the booth just as a slow song came up. I thanked the stars for aligning and led her to the dance floor. I latched my arms around Max’s waist, feeling the softness of her body and relishing in the tingle that ran through me from stem to stern. We started to gently sway, and as she lifted her hands to my shoulders, another jolt shot through me. Her touch was tentative at first but became firmer as the music went on.

  I leaned down a bit so we could keep talking. "Okay, my turn. Why'd you order for us? How did you know I'd eat a burger?" I was genuinely curious how she knew my favorite meal.

  She looked up and we locked eyes. I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn’t an epic romantic moment. She still believed I had given her hell for years because we hated each other.

  She smirked and replied, "Because you said, like three years ago, that they were your favorite food, and you could eat one every day of your life until you die. Probably from a heart attack. Favorite movie?"

  "Wait, you remember some crap I said three years ago about burgers?" I asked incredulously.

  "I happen to have a very good memory, which is useful as a cataloger," she explained, moving with me as we turned slowly on the dance floor, her hands now clasped behind my neck. My heart was thudding so loud, I swear she could hear it, and I probably was making anime heart eyes at her. She tapped me gently. "Now, favorite movie."

  "Pfft, like there's any doubt. The original, unaltered Star Wars trilogy. Empire overall."

  She sighed. "How typical. I see your Star Wars and raise you the special editions of Lord of the Rings," she replied, challenging me.

  "Nice try, Frodo, but I don't think so. Peter Jackson did right by those books, and the series is epic. But nothing tops freakin' Star Wars."

  "What about the collective body of works of Tarantino?" she asked.

  "Nope," I said, shaking my head adamantly. "No amount of snappy dialogue is going to make up for 'No. I am your father.'"

  She laughed. "Yeah, I guess you got me there. My favorite is Return of the Jedi, though. I know most everyone says Empire is the better film, but Jedi is so much happier. Ewoks! Dance parties! No incest! What’s not to love?"

  "Fine, you can love Jedi more than Empire and I won't make fun of you. Whose turn is it?" I asked, having lost track.

  "I don't know. I'll go. Do you like to read?"

  Now it was my turn to laugh. "After your ‘books are magic’ spiel, how could I say no?"

  She stuck her tongue out at me playfully, and my heart lurched. "Seriously, though?"

  "Well yeah, I read. I love Stephen King. I think I have all of his books now, but I'd have to check my list. I'm always looking at used bookshops for the ones I'm missing."

  "I have almost all of them too!" she exclaimed, obviously excited to be talking books again. "The only book of his I couldn't finish was It. Clowns creep me out. My favorite is Misery." I smiled down at her, beaming that we were finding common ground. At least until she screamed and jerked backward out of my arms.

  Chapter 5

  Maxine

  “Wrath, so the gods help me, if you’re in my way, I will take you out. Move!”

  ― Maximus_Damage

  I screeched as cold beer hit me, pouring down the front of my dress and freezing my breasts. I pulled my arms free of Wrath to wrap them around my chest amidst the scuffle of footsteps around me. The impressively tall beer-spiller was drunkenly trying to apologize as his date tried to wipe me down with napkins. Patty made her way over quick as lightning and offered to let me into the staff bathroom to clean up, and I shook my head, feeling overwhelmed. I was the center of attention and I hated it—offline, anyway.

  I caught Wrath’s eyes with mine and silently pleaded with him to get me out of there. Reading my signal correctly, he grabbed our jackets and threw some cash on the table. He then laid my jacket around my shoulders. My eyes bulged at his next move, which was to carefully put one arm around my waist, extending his other arm to fend off the crowd, and lead me out through the doors. When the cold fall air hit me, my nipples practically cried out in pain, and he hurried us over to my Jeep. Wrath fished the keys out of my pocket and opened the passenger door, guiding me up into the seat. He then ran around to the driver side and turned on the engine, revving the heat up.

  “My god, why was everyone gawking and getting in the way?” he asked, almost angrily for some reason.

  My teeth chattered. “This is the S-South, Wrath. I thought you lived down here too. They were trying to help.”

  “But surely those peasants could see that a lady needed room to exit the premises!” he said, sounding like the knight he purported to be in-game. It made me snort-laugh, both his concern and his anger, but I quickly smothered it because all of his concern was centered around getting me to warmth and comfort as quickly as possible.

  We drove for a few moments in silence, me shivering and holding my arms as tightly around my sodden bosom as I could. Wrath had surprised me a bit tonight, both with his quick action on my behalf and his earlier speech. I hadn’t been able to contain my laughter because, as I'd asked him, was he serious? According to him, he had never been an asshole on purpose. He’d never tried to deliberately wrong me. And he admired me as a “human being in general.” If he had said this stuff to me in-game yesterday, I would have told him to screw off and go back to griefing low-level players. But what if Wrath really thought I was awesome and never tried to intentionally hurt me? I wondered if that negated the fact that the hurt had actually happened, intentional or not.

  I thought back to the way his hands had felt around my waist before the flying beer incident, and the way he had curved his perfect mouth into a smile, just for me. I searched for hidden motives. What could Wrath gain by being nice to me? I could up his rank in the guild, I guess, giving him access to more supplies
and privileges with our guild bank. It could be a plan to disarm me into humiliating myself. Acting like he wanted to be friends so that I would reveal information I would never normally let out, and then, as he left for his plane, turning around and yelling, “Punked!”

  I turned on the radio and stopped looking for conspiracy theories. I had to take Wrath with at least a little grain of salt based on everything I knew about him, but I also had to give him the chance to grow and evolve, like I was trying to do in my own life. I didn’t want to be Mousy Maxine anymore. I liked the way peoples’ eyes had followed me at Genie’s before the situation became embarrassing and out of my control. Maybe Wrath wanted to be someone different too, even if only for this weekend. He certainly seemed to be trying to not be the same jerk I knew. I suppose I had to ask myself: Was Wrath, of all people, redeemable?

  I was so lost in thought that we almost missed our turn. “Turn here,” I said, pointing to the right.

  “It’s a one-horse town, Max. I’m not about to get us lost.” He chuckled.

  “No, but if you’d gone the other way by mistake, we’d be navigating some switchbacks in the dark, and if you’re from Jacksonville, you probably aren’t used to driving in the mountains. Even the hairpin turns that aren’t so bad require some skill at night.”

  "Fair point. But I’m not from Jacksonville. I’m from more of a blink-and-you'll-miss-it type of town, dirt roads and all."

  "Really?" I asked, intrigued. "We didn't get very far in our offline life questions. Tell me about where you’re from. You’re seeing my hometown, it only seems fair." I was surprised at my own interest in Wrath’s private life, but there it was.

  Wrath shifted in his seat, like he was uncomfortable. "There’s not much to tell,” he began, his voice tight. “It's swampland, pretty much. Some little spit of land in the middle of nowhere. I grew up in a trailer with two sisters and a mean drunk of a Daddy who liked to use me and Mom as punching bags. He died of heart failure when I was sixteen. Now my mother spends half her time praying and the other half lost in a pill bottle. So I started gaming, to escape it all. We were able to buy me a computer with some of his life insurance money, and I joined Guilds of the Ages at seventeen. Where I met you." He paused for a moment. "Anything else I should be sharing about offline life?"