Chapter Two

It's been three long days since Nash encountered that handful at the bookstore. He had no one to blame but himself as he rapidly shook his leg, the so-called precious glasses, and his phone on the coffee table. They always said seeing is believing, and it was his fault for accepting that bastard proposal. Nash acknowledged that he was doing things these past months out of desperation. What was he going to do with glasses he didn't want?

Of course, Nash visited the store the day after, only to see it closed. It wasn't until Nash's irritation peaked he thought he should've taken his number. The number presented on Google went straight to voicemail. At this point, Nash thought to f*ck it all and give up. It was a book, for crying out loud, but he knew it meant a lot as he always went back to seeking out that phone call.

On the third day, Nash cursed him viciously in his mind. It was hard giving up months of searching when the book was finally in sight. His pride wouldn't allow it. He was heading back to that bookstore whether rain or shine. If he had to lay in wait, then so be it. Nash's desperation was surpassing the realm of rationality.

"Since when do you wear glasses like that?" Nash diverted his attention from the items before him, seeing his older sister, Violet, entering the living room. "Aren't these too fashionable for you?" He rolled his eyes, hoping to ignore her long enough for her to disappear.

The relationship between him and his sister was dying little by little. Violet used her mouth a bit too much for Nash's liking. She was loud and didn't know when to shut up, especially in the wee hours of the night or morning. Sleep was Nash's second most valued thing. If Violet had done it once or twice, give or take now and then, Nash wouldn't have been so upset. It's like she had a disorder, a constant need to cause noise pollution.

"That's not mine, so put it down," Nash said, watching Violet take up the glasses to try it on. "Stop touching things without permission."

She handed over the glasses. "Then who's is it? You have zero friends."

Nash sighed. He was already annoyed from not receiving his book, and he might get sent to an early grave before he wins at life due to a spike in his stress levels.

"It's none of your business," Nash knew she couldn't keep a story to herself. By noon, the whole neighborhood would know that he got duped trying to buy a gay novel-Granted that his hidden preference outside of thrillers and mystery wasn't world knowledge. He wasn't going to tell her now.

Nash took the liberty of going back to his room. He threw the items on his bed, pacing back and forth. Though he wouldn't admit it, Nash was becoming anxious. The reality was harsh. Encounters weren't always fateful, but some people satan just pushed into the path to fumble his bubble.

It was an encounter where they could've bonded over enjoying the same book, running through flower patches, and forging a romance, saying it was a destined encounter. At least, that was how he would write the story. A ding signaling a notification sprung Nash into action. Disappointment, the current name of the chapter in his life-it was a notification from BookNerds Forum. Nash channeled his inner keyboard warrior, hitting caps lock to enhance the experience.

Today was not the day. Those BookNerds trolls were getting the stick today. Just as he was about to type his exclamations, another notification came in a text from an unknown number.

I'm ready to call in that favor.

Nash exited the forum and replied immediately.

Is the store open? Can I stop by right now?

All the patience Nash had he used up in his months of searching. He wanted the guy to reply in seconds as he was rearing to go. Ten minutes went by before he responded.

Sure!

Nash rummaged through his closet, grabbing any decent clothes he could find to wear. He hurriedly got dressed only to see a follow-up message:

On second thought, come tomorrow morning.

"Deep breaths, Nash. You're doing this for one reason and one reason only: to get that book. After tomorrow, I won't have to deal with that jerk." Nash said to himself, taking deep breaths. "These emotions will pass."

~~

Nash was outside The Book Nook ten the following morning. "Just get the book and leave," He prepped himself before entering. The chime above the door didn't welcome him. It's last days gone, like today, the last time Nash would visit the bookstore.

The overwhelming smell of books greeted him. His source of stress emerged with books stacked in hand. "You're here already," He said.

Nash disliked him, but he couldn't deny what an eye candy he was. If only he didn't open his mouth.

"The earlier, the better," Nash replied. "What's the favor?"

"You like coffee?" He asked, ignoring Nash's question. He settled the books on the floor. "What better way to start the day?"

Nash didn't start the day with coffee like half the population did, drunk on caffeine and bottled-up emotions, but he still appreciated a nice cup of anything that wasn't bitter. He looked suspiciously at the cup he offered to him. "Are you the same guy I met yesterday?" Nash reluctantly accepted, examining the latte. "You didn't poison it, did you? I find it hard to believe I'm getting a latte after all that lip service yesterday. And why should I drink this when I don't even know your name."

"Ace Cummings," He introduced himself. "Should I give you my middle name as well? Would you like me to channel my inner Joe? Besides, if I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't do it here. These books are too precious to have your lifeless body mingled among them." Nash gave him a once-over before taking a sip. "Do you have my glasses?"

"You're not getting it until I have that book in my hand," Nash declared.

"Then I guess you better start sorting these books," Ace responded. "The earlier, the better,"

There was no way Nash would get along with him.

Nash got to work, dusting shelves, separating damaged books, and stacking books on shelves. The things he succumbed himself to for the sake of one book. The author better acknowledges his dedication. Amongst the dust and heavy lifting, Nash occasionally glanced at Ace, who worked separately.

What's a guy like him doing in a bookstore?

"If you have something to say, I'm all ears," Ace spoke. "Stop stalking me with your eyes."

Nash scoffed, "As if I'd have anything to say to you." He continued to stack the books.

"Do you like these types of books, whatever your name is?" Ace asked, his back remaining turned to Nash.

"Nash," He replied, revealing his name as he thought it was a fair exchange since he knew Ace's name. "Are you judging my preferences in books?"

"It's not in my capacity to judge people," Ace faced him. "I'm a man of love and affection."

"You're delusional," Ace was anything but affectionate and loving in the eyes of Nash. His first impression was long-lasting. The only affection he exuded was that he would give affectionate punches to the face. "How did you know it was that type of book?"

Ace leaned against the bookshelf. The more time Nash spent with him, the more he fought the conflicting thoughts between liking and hating Ace. He blamed physical attraction: Ace's wolf cut, the way he dressed to suit his physique. It was why relationships failed. Ace reminded him of the donuts from Do'Nuts, not far from the bookstore. Appearance-wise, the jelly-filled donuts looked delicious. Biting into it revealed there was not much to them. As if jelly was on strike, they offered a thumbprint size amount. Despite his complaints, the chocolate-glazed donuts were a hit, the only reason he was a continued patron of Do-Nuts, a name they should probably change.

"The description, idiot," Ace replied. Nash nodded internally, urging Ace to continue his lip service so the scale would tip in a favorable direction-disliking him.

A realization dawned on Nash. "That doesn't explain why you think it's a crappy book unless you read it,"

"I did," Ace made no effort to deny it. "I hope your taste isn't this bad in anything else."

"To each their own," Nash said. As long as he loved the book, it was pointless to continue arguing with Ace, whose opinion wouldn't nor could he change. Besides, it was already six in the evening, time for Nash to leave with his precious in hand. "Let's do the exchange and forget we ever met each other." Try as he might, looking at his favorite book would invoke memories of Ace, something he needed to override. "I should get home now,"

"Not yet," Ace said, rolling up his sleeve to reveal additional tattoos on his left arm. "Best of three, let's arm wrestle."

Nash closed his eyes briefly in frustration. "Fine, I still get the book whether I win or lose since it wasn't a part of the agreement." Ace shrugged his shoulders. "I swear this guy knows how to get on my nerves." He muttered under his breath.

They joined hands, Nash feeling Ace's rough and slightly larger hand in his own. "1, 2, go," Ace spoke. Nash easily won the first round, thinking there wasn't much to it until Ace increased his power, flexing his muscles and winning the remaining two rounds, a smirk playing on his lips.

"You know what," Nash said, the book still not in his hands. He tossed Ace his glasses, running his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Let's settle this once and for all. You know that empty basketball court that no one uses anymore? Let's settle things there, you and me, tomorrow. And bring the damn book with you."