AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“That how your reading leads you to the right questions is up to you.” A bell rings, the one at the checkout counter, and he stands from the table.
I really kind of hate this guy.
The Owner stares at me, hard, like he heard me think that.
“Sorry,” I mutter.
He smiles. “Thank you again for the card. I hope you are enjoying Madame Mattie's journal.” He leaves, and I get that I am supposed to help myself here, that the answers—or rather, the questions I need—are possibly in that reading somehow, but my head needs something stronger than silence and reflection to help clear it.
Like alcohol.
I push my chair back to make my way home to Odai.
“Mattie?”
I look up, not having stood yet. At the end of one of the nearby aisles is… College Boy.
It’s College Boy, the super cute and flustered one who I flirted with as Mattie the night I discovered Odai, and who was very likely planning to ask me out if I hadn’t ditched him.
“Uh… sometimes?” I say like an idiot.
“Wow.” He moves closer to me, and I feel like hiding inside my sweatshirt. Most of me is pretty hidden, between the oversized clothes and the size of my 80s style glasses, but he somehow still recognized me. “You look really different.”
That always makes my heart sink. “Yeah, well, it’s just a performance.”
He frowns. He wasn’t frowning before. He wasn’t trying to make me feel bad. I just do, because “different” is usually code for “schlubby” or “disappointing.”
“Outside of being Mattie, I’m just… this,” I try to say a little softer. “Jeffrey. My real name is Jeffrey.”
“Chance.” He holds out a hand to me.
The fact that I am still sitting feels awkward, so I stand as I shake it. He’s taller than me but not by much. He’s built really nicely too, and is really cute, with dark hair and blue eyes.
“It’s nice to meet you, Jeffrey,” he says with the same sweet smile I found so enticing that night and why I kept singling him out. I liked seeing that smile. “I was pretty bummed when you vanished after the tour. You do a really good job leading it. Hilarious, but it was also fun learning all that.”
Oh, he needs to stop. He liked the history part of the tour too? “Thanks,” I say, but it’s not good enough. Actually faced with him and having him recognize me out of Mattie-wear, I owe him an apology and an explanation for why I ran. “Listen, um… I’m—”
“Chancey!” An absolute femme fatale of a person hops into view from out of one of the aisles and latches onto Chance like he’s a plushie to squeeze. The person’s smile drops as their attention shifts to me. “Oops, sorry. Who’s this?” They wrap their arms tighter around Chance’s. I’m assuming they, but whatever the truth, this person is seriously femme, like me in a corset level femme, complete with glam makeup and glitter on their eyelids.
“This is, um, the really talented actor from that tour I told you about,” Chance explains. “Jeffrey, this is Avery.”
“His SO, as in significant other,” Avery adds, clearly possessive as they look me up and down. “You are not what I expected from Chancey’s description.”
“I rarely am,” I try to say jovially, much as it probably sounds as self-deprecating as I feel. I turn to Chance. “I’m glad you enjoyed the tour that night.”
“And the rest of the night afterward,” Avery says. “That’s when we met. Come on, Chancey.” They pull Chance back toward the aisles. “You have got to see this.”
I guess ten days is plenty of time to go from meeting someone to being significant others.
“You really were amazing that night, Jeffrey,” Chance says. “It was nice seeing you again.”
“Yeah,” I say. Then, once he is out of sight, I mutter, “Doubtful.”
College Boy has a type.
And this me isn’t it.
Because this me is still wrong.
