Love Among the Pages

On a busy street in the city's heart, nestled between high-end boutiques and trendy coffee shops, was an old yet charming bookshop named "The Hidden Words." It was beneath a small shopping mall with designer stores. In an age dominated by electronics and mobile devices, this bookshop somehow managed to hold on to its customers and avoided the fate of most bookshops in the city, which either closed or began selling stationery and other novelty items besides books.

It was Tuesday, and like every Tuesday, John walked down the stairs of the bookshop. The musty aroma of aged paper and ink filled his nostrils as he entered the shop, causing him to sneeze. The bookstore was one of John's favorite places to be. Its atmosphere, the dim lighting, and the scent of books tranquilized him, helping him forget all his problems. After a moment of stillness, cherishing his time in the bookshop, John walked straight toward the science fiction shelves. The shop boasted an extensive collection of science fiction books spread across four tall shelves, drawing many enthusiasts like John to the store. The presence of Sci-Fi enthusiasts was probably one reason for the bookshop's survival.

As a nerd, as he had been labeled throughout his school years, John struggled with social skills. His difficulty in social situations made attending gatherings a daunting task; he often found himself unable to interpret the subtle signals conveyed through people's casual speech and body language. This challenge set him apart and attracted unwanted attention, becoming a source of laughter among his peers, which gradually led to his social isolation. He slowly retreated into a protective cocoon to cope with the unwanted circumstances, growing increasingly comfortable within his own mind and world. Although he had never received a formal diagnosis, John suspected he might be borderline autistic.

John's lack of a social life gave him plenty of free time and savings. To make the most of his free time, he developed a habit of reading one book each week, particularly science fiction novels. Every Tuesday, he would visit the bookstore to buy a new book, which he aimed to finish by the following Tuesday.

Amelia had a job interview that Tuesday. She wasn't sure if it was her twentieth or thirtieth job interview that month, and the day's date was the twenty-first. She had been looking for a job for the past six months since her graduation. She wore her best formal dress for the interview, which was more suited for fall than winter. Unfortunately, the weather decided to mock her that day; the temperature was at least ten degrees lower than the average for the month, and the wind made it feel even colder.

She arrived nearly two hours early for her job interview, and passing the time on the streets in that cold weather felt impractical. The last thing she wanted was to catch a bad cold or the flu. Since she was unemployed and on a tight budget, Amelia entered  "The Hidden Words" bookshop she spotted on the street instead of going to a coffee shop for a hot drink. Upon entering, the warm air filled with the scent of old paper and ink made her feel light-headed. She had nearly forgotten the aroma of bookshops and libraries, as she hadn't stepped foot in either since her graduation. As a fine art graduate, Amelia located the art section and began to scan the titles. She picked up a large-format book with nearly a thousand pages that weighed about five kilograms, titled "The Arts History," and started flipping through its pages. She recalled nearly everything in the book and could recite it by heart. Yet, as she flipped through a book produced by the diligent efforts of its two authors, a deep sadness filled her heart. Six months had passed since her graduation, and she was still unemployed as if there was no demand for a fine art specialist. The world seemed to have turned its back on art and become preoccupied with technological gadgets. "Even the smartphone we all have is designed by an artist," she thought with growing sorrow.

Amelia often felt anxious. Her savings were low, and if she couldn't secure a job soon, she would have to move out of her apartment because she wouldn't have enough money to pay the rent. A quick mental calculation revealed that she could only afford her rent for another month, with just enough left for food and other essentials. "I should stop using the heater to save some money," she thought. She grimaced at the thought of living in a cold apartment. Her thoughts made her miserable, and the sadness was so evident on her face that even John noticed it, despite his difficulty reading people's body language; he then asked, "Are you okay?"

His question pulled her from her dark moment, and she lifted her head to look at him. "Did you ask me something?"

Noticing her sad but beautiful face, John suddenly realized he hadn't spoken to a beautiful woman in a long time, if ever. He held back his thoughts and replied, "Noticing you deep in thought and very sad, I asked if you were okay?"   

"I'm fine. Thanks for your concern." 

"I'm happy to hear that," John said politely and returned to check the book he held, ignoring the voice in his head that urged him to keep the conversation going.

"This is a cozy bookstore. It's my first time here. Do you come here often?" Amelia asked, trying to fend off feelings of sadness with conversation.

"I come every Tuesday."

"Every Tuesday? What about the other days of the week?"

"I typically read a book a week, finishing by Sunday or Monday, so I start a new one on Tuesday," John explained.

"Wow, that's impressive, reading a book each week! I envy you. I barely read a book a year," Amelia said.

"Thank you?" John responded to her compliment. For the first time, he could accurately interpret her message as praise rather than its literal meaning, suggesting she wasn't a good reader.

"You must have a lot of books at home," she asked.

"I used to keep my books, but as the number grew and I never reread them, I donate them now," John replied.

"Wow, donating books, sharing knowledge! That's a wonderful thing to do," she said with a smile.

"Thank you," John replied. She was different; no one had ever praised him for reading or donating books. 

"Do you enjoy science fiction books?" 

"Yes, I do like science fiction." 

"Can I ask what you like about science fiction?" 

"Um, I never really thought about it. Maybe because they transport me to different places, places we can't physically visit," John answered. "The James Webb Space Telescope has discovered some galaxies over twelve billion light-years away from us." 

"I didn't know at all!" she cut him off.

John ignored her and continued, "And if we could build a spaceship that travels at the speed of light, even if we were immortal, we would never reach them."

"Wow!"

"The only way we can travel there is through our imagination," John said excitedly.

"Imagination makes us different from animals. Everything we have–the city, the technology, the art, and the book you're holding–are creations of our imagination," Amelia said.

"Exactly!" John replied, finding himself drawn to her. She was the first girl to engage him in a meaningful conversation, something he had rarely experienced with girls in his limited interactions.

"I should ask you to recommend a good science fiction book later."

"Why not today? I can show you a few good books now."

"Honestly, I'm not really in a reading mood right now."

"Why?" 

"Because!" she said, pausing to consider whether to share her job search struggles with this man she had just met. As she deemed it harmless, Amelia continued, "In the past six months, I've been trying to find a job in my field, which is fine arts, but I have had no success. My mind is preoccupied with worries about my future, and I can't focus on reading." 

"It took me almost a year to find a job. I hope you find a good job soon." 

"Thank you. By the way, I'm Amelia," she said, extending her hand for a handshake.

He shook her hand and said, "My name is John Brighton. I'm a software engineer working in cybersecurity." 

"I'm Amelia Atwell, a fine arts graduate." 

"These tough times will pass, and you'll find a job soon, Amelia." 

"I hope so." Amelia glanced at her watch and replied, "I have to go. I've got a job interview in fifteen minutes." 

"Good luck with the interview!"   

"Thank you." 

"Would you let me know if you get the job? You can find me here next Tuesday at the same time. Then I'll show you a great book," John said. 

"Sure. See you next Tuesday," she replied, getting ready to leave. 

"One last thing," John said, pulling out a beautiful, colorful quill feather and handing it to her. "This charmed feather comes from a rare bird in Papua New Guinea, and the locals believe it brings them good luck. I hope it brings you good luck as well." 

"Thank you," she said, taking the quill and hurrying toward the door. His kind gesture touched Amelia, but since she didn't want to be late for her interview, she left without expressing gratitude.

On the following Tuesday, Amelia entered the bookstore again. Effortlessly, she spotted John in the science fiction section, engrossed in examining books. She approached him and said, "Hello, Mr. John Brighton." 

John turned to her and promptly replied, "Hello, Miss Amelia Atwell." 

"You still remember my name!" she exclaimed with a smile.

"I have a sharp memory and seldom forget things, especially the names of beautiful women," he complimented her.

"Thank you! I returned your quill. I'm grateful that you lent it to me." 

"Did its magic work? Did you get the job?" 

"Yes, I got the job," she said cheerfully.

"Congratulations."

"Thank you."

"Now that you have the peace of mind to read a book, let me find one for you," John said, browsing the bookshelf before him. Soon, he pulled a book out and passed it to her.

"Thank you," Amelia said as she began reading the book's blurb.

"Thinker" by Paul Harding won the Pulitzer Prize. I'm sure you will like it," John explained. He then took the book from her, walked to the cashier, and paid for it. After that, he handed it to her and said, "Amelia, this is my gift to you to congratulate you on getting a job." 

"Thank you, but I could pay for it myself. I have a job now." 

"I wanted to buy the book for you. I'm trying to turn you into a sci-fi fan." 

"You're adorable!" she exclaimed, rising on her toes to kiss his cheek. 

The warm gesture made John turn red.

Meeting at The Hidden Words became their weekly ritual. Every Tuesday during her lunch break, Amelia entered the bookstore and found John in the science fiction section, immersed in his favorite genre of books. Their connection remained limited to the bookstore's walls. John usually kept to himself, speaking a little, but he listened intently. Amelia eagerly shared details about her new job at the art gallery and the art auctions and gossiped about her colleagues. John listened closely to her stories but did not ask questions. She liked John but wondered whether he felt the same about her.

During their seventh meeting, she finally broke her silence and asked, "John, do you like me?" 

"Of course I like you, Amelia!" he replied, bewildered and unsure why she had posed such a question. 

"Then why don't you show your feelings?" 

"I don't know!" 

"I don't know what? Are you unsure if you like me?" 

"Not at all. I'm sorry you feel this way. I like you very much, Amelia." 

She stared at him, clearly dissatisfied with his answer. 

"I've never had a girlfriend, so I don't know how to treat a woman well," John confessed. "I feared doing something wrong, offending you, or worse, losing you."

"Are you a virgin?" she asked, puzzled. 

"Yes, I am," he said shyly, blushing.

His honest explanation resonated in her heart. She hugged him and kissed him on the lips. "Let's get out of this bookstore," Amelia suggested, promptly grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the exit. 

"Okay, but let me pay for this book." 

"Leave it here; we'll return later," Amelia said. 

"Where are we going?" he asked, confused. 

"How about a coffee shop?" 

"Sounds good," he replied agreeably. "When do we have to return to your work?"

"We had a power issue this morning. Now, the electricians are handling it, which gives me a little extra time." 

John nodded as they walked down the street, passing several upscale coffee shops. "We just passed three coffee shops!" he exclaimed, curious about where she was taking him. 

"They look too fancy. I want a decent cup of coffee, not just to pay for the decor," she replied. 

"Fair enough," he replied. He wasn't a fan of those upscale venues either; he always felt uncomfortable in fancy settings.

They walked a long way, then turned right onto a side street and left onto another street until she stopped at a small, modest coffee shop with only a few seats inside. However, there were a few more tables outside. They chose a table on the sidewalk. "What do you want?" Amelia asked.

"Just get me what you're having," John replied.

"How about a long black and a stuffed croissant?"

"Sounds good."

John found the coffee and croissant delightful. "I've never tasted such a delicious croissant and such expertly made coffee," John said admiringly.

"I'm glad you like it."

"From now on, I will get my coffee here. The shop owner has gained a new customer. I hope he gives you a cut for referring new clients."

"Unfortunately, I haven't received a single penny," Amelia said with a smile.

Amelia's phone beeped. She quickly checked it and read the message she had received. "Good, I don't need to go to work this afternoon. The electricians are still working on the power issue." 

"Good, you can relax," John replied. 

"Aren't you working on Tuesdays, John?" 

"I'm off on Tuesdays; instead, I work on Saturdays." 

"I see," Amelia said. After a lengthy silence, she added, "Do you want to see my living space?" 

"Are you inviting me to your house?" 

"Is that okay?" Amelia asked. 

"That's great. This is my first time being invited to a woman's house." 

"Let's go," she said, feeling like she was dating a high school teenager. "I don't have any food at my place, so we should shop first." 

"Sure," John said, feeling excited.

Her place was a one-bedroom, clean, and minimally furnished apartment, precisely as John preferred. He got nervous in messy and cluttered spaces.

"Please put the pizza on the table," Amelia asked. Then, she quickly prepared a salad using the fresh ingredients they had bought at the local grocery store. "Red wine or white?" she inquired.

"I rarely drink, but I guess red wine is fitting. Since the pizza is red, the wine should be red, too. Am I right?" John replied.

She smiled at his straightforward reasoning. "I prefer red wine with pizza as well."

Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they savored slices of hot, cheesy pizza and indulged in rich, velvety wine. They shared intimate stories about their lives, delving into their hopes and dreams, revealing personal ambitions, and exploring what made them tick. With each detail, Amelia learned more about John—his passions, aspirations, and unwavering kindness—deepening her fondness for him.

Amelia dated several men, each possessing attractive qualities that drew her in. They were charming and good-looking. Despite their captivating appearances, these men ultimately betrayed her trust. Her most recent boyfriend, James, who had been part of her life for two years, broke her heart when he cheated on her with none other than her close friend, Jennifer. However, John truly stood out for his genuine nature and novel honesty. In his childlike innocence, without hinting of arrogance, he admired and cared for Amelia in a way that gave her a glimpse of genuine love.

After savoring the food, Amelia reached for the second bottle of wine. An inviting warmth enveloped them as the rich red liquid flowed into their glasses, enhancing the intimate atmosphere. They shared soft laughter and whispered stories, each sip of wine gradually dissolving any lingering reservations between them.

She leaned in closer, the space between them fading, nestling her head against his barrel chest. The steady beat of his heart resonated in her ears, amplified by their closeness and the effects of the wine taking hold. Encouraged by the moment, she pressed a soft kiss to his neck. The warmth of her breath sent shivers down John's spine. With sincerity in her voice, she whispered, "I love you, John."

His response was prompt, warm, and affectionate: "I love you too, Amelia. Seeing you is the best thing that has ever happened to me."

Amelia leaned in closer, her heart racing as she kissed him softly on the lips. Their lips lingered in a prolonged kiss, each moment stretching into eternity as they lost themselves in one another. Afterward, she intertwined her fingers with John's, a spark of excitement igniting between them as she gently led him toward her bedroom.