Between Hearts, Beyond Words

Rayna had been working at Ink and Ivy for about a month now. In that time, she had grown closer to Joel. His easygoing, calming nature made it easier for her to relax. Greg, on the other hand, was…Greg. He was flamboyant and loud. He always entered the bookstore as if it were a stage on Broadway. She kept her distance from him after he started calling her doll. She hated it but was too shy and unsure of her voice to tell him to stop.

The bell above the front door jingled as the last customer left. Rayna exhaled; it had been a busy day. She walked to the horror section of the store and began restocking the newest Stephen King novel.

“Thanks Doll!” Greg strutted past Rayna leaving in his wake a trail of Dior cologne and musk.

Rayna tensed. She opened her mouth to say something then closed it. She jammed the last book into place causing the shelf to rattle.

Greg turned on his heel. He approached Rayna with an arched brow, “Did I ruffle your feathers doll?”

“Greg,” Rayna squeezed her hands together, “Could you stop calling me doll?”

Greg began to laugh hysterically. He rested a hand on Rayna’s shoulders to keep himself from falling over.

“Is that why you’ve been avoiding me?” Greg sputtered through fits of laughter.

Rayna just stared at him a smile tugging at her lips.

“Yes,” Rayna’s shoulders lifted, and she began to laugh too.

“Ok, Rayna. I will call you whatever you want. Rayna suits you nicely I might add,” Greg winked at her.

Rayna felt warmth at Greg’s joviality towards her.

“Thanks Greg,” she smiled, “just Rayna is perfect.”

He bowed, “Just Rayna it is.” He saluted her as he walked out of the store done with the shift for the day.

Rayna smiled. A small victory for herself. She couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken up for herself. It felt empowering.

Joel’s voice bounced through the shelves, “Rayna, if you’re still here you can go. I’ll lock up.”

“You got it.” Rayna swung her bag over her shoulder and went home for the night.

The next morning, the smell of fresh brewed coffee drifted through Ink and Ivy as Rayna unlocked the front door and stepped inside. The morning light poured through the windows, casting a golden glow across the hardwood floor and artfully arranged shelves.

She was twenty minutes early, just how she liked it—before the noise, before the people. Just the books and her thoughts.

Except today, she wasn’t alone.

Greg was already at the register, bent over a box of new arrivals. His usual blazer—this one emerald with silver threading—glinted under the lights. He looked up as the door jingled.

“Ah,” he said, straightening up and placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “It’s the One Formerly Known as Doll.”

Rayna’s eyebrows rose. Then she laughed.

Greg smiled, but it was softer than usual. Less sparkle, more sincerity. “Too much?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That one was... tolerable.”

He grinned, returning to his box. “I’ll take it.”

Rayna set her bag down behind the counter and glanced over. “You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t sleep. Had a dream I was trapped in a used bookstore run by gremlins. Woke up and thought—same thing, but I get to wear sequins.” He shrugged. “Figured I’d unpack the poetry section before they rise.”

Rayna bit back another laugh. There was something comforting about him this morning. Calmer, like he’d tuned himself to a lower frequency just for her.

She wandered toward the poetry display, fingers brushing the top of a collection by Mary Oliver.

“Hey, Rayna?” Greg’s voice came quieter this time.

She turned.

“I’m glad you said something yesterday. Just wanted to say that.”

She looked at him, surprised again. “You are?”

“Yeah.” He tilted his head. “Takes guts to speak up. I spent half my life pretending I didn’t mind being called things I hated. You saved yourself a couple decades.”

Rayna swallowed. She didn’t know what to say, she just nodded.

Greg gave her a quick smile, then held up a book. “Now. Do you want the honors of displaying the sexy new Pablo Neruda or should I?”

She reached for the book and raised a brow. “You’re just scared I’ll arrange them better than you.”

Greg gasped. “How dare you. This means war.”

And just like that, something shifted. Not everything, but something real. The beginning of a friendship sparked by paperbacks, awkward grace, and connection through silent understanding.

Greg and Rayna finished restocking the shelves just as the doors were about to open. The bells jingled, and both chimed, “Good morning!” in their most bubbly voices.

Joel walked through the door, and both their faces immediately went slack.

“Hey, just because I’m not a customer doesn’t mean I shouldn’t get a warm welcome too, right?” Joel smirked, his eyes flicking between the two.

Rayna looked at Joel, then at Greg — who was already bursting at the seams trying not to laugh — which only made her sputter out a snort.

Greg wheezed into a fit of laughter doubling over himself. “You’re right Joel, now where did I put my confetti?” Greg patted his pockets while Rayna bit back another snort.

“That’s the kind of energy we need around here,” Joel grinned.

Rayna rolled her eyes, the smile never leaving her face as she turned toward the counter. Greg resumed restocking sultry poetry books while Joel retreated into the back room to do paperwork.

They all become lost in their work when the front door rattled open, the bells jingling wildly. An older man walked in with graying wiry hair, round glasses, and a frown that could rival a sad clown. Rayna stood up to greet the man, a smile on her face.

He stomped up to the counter and slammed a book down. Rayna backed up, her smile turned flat, and her eyes went wide. “Is there anyone here who knows how to read? Because obviously you don’t,” his small, beady eyes bore into her. “I asked for Stephen Hawking and you gave me this crap.”

Rayna looked down at the book by Neil DeGrasse Tyson. “I’m so sorry, I thought you had mentioned this author as we—”

“Author?” the old man spat, “He’s a scientist you moron. Now give me my money back so I can get the right book myself.”

Rayna’s shaky hands retrieved the book and receipt from the counter and walked to the back room to get Joel to help her. Greg, who had been in earshot of the conversation, walked up to the counter.

“Oh look, another illiterate fool,” the man scoffed, eyeing Greg from head to toe.

Greg didn’t flinch. He glanced at the man’s round glasses, his voice deadpan. “That’s funny, I was just thinking the same about you. The only people who would willingly wear glasses like that are the ones who want everyone to think they’re smarter than they actually are.”

Rayna walked back to the front, Joel trailing behind her, the book in her hand.

Greg glanced at the book Rayna was holding, then back at him with a smirk. “Oh, and some ritzy science book. Real avant-garde of you. You really are pretentious.”

He sized the man up one last time before letting out a dry chuckle and walking off, leaving the man stammering in stunned silence.

Rayna set the book on the counter with his refund. She let out a sigh then regarded the customer with forced politeness. “Here is your refund, Sir. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“Just the damn refund,” he snatched the money off the counter then stormed out of the store.

Joel walked up to Rayna eyeing her with concern, “Are you okay?”

Rayna smiled softly, though her eyes were watery. “I’m okay. I just don’t understand how some people can be so—”

“Cunty?” Greg’s voice carried over from the back of the store.

Rayna shut her eyes trying to suppress a laugh. “Yes.”

Joel gave her a reassuring smile, leaning in a bit closer. “Yeah, I bet his life is pretty miserable to be mean to a pretty lady.”

Rayna’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked away. Joel caught the change, but he didn’t press. He groaned as he stretched his back. “Alright, I need to make sure Greg isn’t rearranging the furniture again.” He walked off to find Greg, leaving Rayna standing alone.

A few hours later, a dozen customers had come and gone, and the store had quieted down. Greg leaned against the counter while Rayna crouched, stacking magazines on a display.

“How do you do it, Greg?” Rayna asked, slipping a copy of Cosmopolitan into the rack.

“Which part, love? Being incredibly handsome, funny, intelligent—” Greg raised an eyebrow, making a rolling motion with his hand as if the list of his virtues were endless.

Rayna smiled. “I mean, I’d love to know your secrets. You’re absolutely fabulous.”

Rayna paused, her smile fading slightly as she stood up. “But no, really. About earlier. You were so nonchalant with that customer. You just gave it right back to him. Meanwhile, I was about to cry.”

Greg’s face shifted, becoming more contemplative. He leaned in slightly, voice quieter. “Well, I wasn’t always that way. Used to get made fun of, bullied, you name it. I guess... it just took one day for me to decide I wasn’t going to let anyone treat me like that again.” He shrugged, offering a faint smile. “So, I didn’t. Now I just let them know where they stand. Only the strongest can survive being my friend,” he added, his tone light again, “like you.”

Rayna looked down at her hands, fingers twisting together. Her brow furrowed slightly, as if recalling something deeper. “I get that,” she murmured. She turned her gaze toward the wall, eyes unfocused. “That’s actually how I ended up here. I needed a fresh start. Someone made me feel... less than, broke me in ways I didn’t know I could be.” She let out a slow breath. “I had to survive, so I came all the way across the country. Ended up here.” She gestured around her. “I’m really glad I did. Or I wouldn’t have met you.”

Greg’s expression softened, and for a moment, he just stared at her — the walls he’d built coming down, just a little. He wiped a sudden tear from his cheek, the motion almost imperceptible. He stepped toward her, his arms open, and wrapped her in a tight, sincere hug.

“You know,” Greg said, choking back emotion, “I’d be so bored without you here. Joel’s great and all, but … he’s a bit of a wet blanket.”

Rayna laughed, the sound muffled against his blazer, and he gently smoothed her hair, his touch protective.

“Thanks, Greg,” she murmured.

He pulled back just enough to look her in the eye. “Anytime.”

A comfortable silence fell between them — warm and unspoken. The kind you only get with people who have been broken.

From the back room, the sound of something clattering to the floor echoed.

Rayna looked up, “Should we be worried?”

Greg sighed, stepping away. “Highly.”

Moments later, Joel appeared holding two wildly mismatched lamps, looking both triumphant and confused. “Okay, so Greg did move the furniture. And looks like he stole lamps from his grandmother’s attic.”

Rayna let out a laugh that felt like sunlight.

Greg smirked. “You’re just mad because you have no taste.”

Joel placed the lamps down like they were cursed objects. “I’m mad because they smell like mothballs.”

The front door chimed signaling a new customer. All three of them paused.

Rayna glanced at Greg, then Joel. “Back to the battlefield?”

Greg shot a devilish smile Rayna’s way. “Let’s dance.”

She smirked back at him, “I’ve got your back.”

Greg nudged her shoulder. “Likewise.”

And just like that, a new chapter was being written. Their unlikely friendship had been unexpected — mismatched genres, dog-eared edges, and some torn pages. Yet, somehow, they’d found their way into the same book. Stories stitched together with laughter, healing, and understanding, page by page.