Page 26 of With Stars in Her Eyes

Courtney

Thea appeared in the bookshop doorway earlier than usual, leaving her dripping umbrella by the door.

Since I was checking out a customer, she mouthed the words dollar bin and headed to the back of the store.

She returned with a mass-market paperback and flipped through the pages before gently smacking it down on the counter.

It was a choreography we both knew well now.

Unfortunately, the book-smacking sound had started provoking a visceral reaction in me.

One involving fantasies of books smacking other things…

things very different from a counter. And hands spanking other things.

Which led me down a very inconvenient flavor of fantasy for a bookseller who had customers thunking books down on the counter all day.

Thea frowned. “I can’t stay to eat with you today because I had an add-on appointment.”

“I’m even more glad you stopped by then.” I pulled a thermos of soup from my lunchbox beneath the counter. “Eat it when you have a minute. I’ll come by for the rest of it later. I had a late breakfast.”

“No, I can’t take your…” Thea’s lips pressed together. “But what kind?”

“Nic made it when he was in town this weekend. Potato and—”

“Fine. Sold.” Thea grinned.

God, this woman is perfect.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Thea said teasingly.

“I just really love potatoes too.” I grinned.

“They are most exemplary-est of vegetables.”

“So I guess you watched the movie?” I burst out laughing.

Laughing was a lot more chill than staring blankly at Thea like the dorkily smitten golden retriever lesbian I knew I was turning into.

When had I ever gotten so much pure delight out of feeding someone?

I had even started a Pinterest board called Thea that was full of shareable recipes that would transport easily in a thermos since I had discovered in the last few weeks that, on rainy days, she preferred soup to sandwiches.

“I stopped in last Friday on my way out of town because I forgot… well, anyway… Samantha said Pride and Prejudice would help me understand some of the stuff being described in the books for book club, and she also said it was required watching to be her friend. My sister had the Keira Knightley DVD, so I borrowed it.”

“She told me that on the first day I met her in college.”

“Did she make you watch the six-hour one too?” Thea cradled her chin in her hands on the counter.

“Obviously. I memorized the DVD menu because it played constantly during finals.”

“Well, I’m not watching that one alone. Honestly, watching this one alone was interesting because… well, you haven’t met my mother, but I’ll just say there are some similarities between my mom and Mrs. Bennet.”

I winced sympathetically. “Yikes. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

Before I could say anything else, Sam pulled Thea to the middle of the store where the map of booths for the book fair was laid out on one of the large book tables.

We were less than two weeks out from Menagerie Books’ biggest event of the year.

The manager I had taken over for during her maternity leave came back last week.

I had reverted to the role of a typical bookseller, which gave me a lot more time to overthink about the next steps with Thea, while ignoring calls from everyone about the uncertain future of Kestrel.

The minutes watching my best friend and the woman I had a shameless crush on talk gave me enough time to muster every ounce of my resolve.

And with that resolve came the simultaneous self-doubt.

After a lot of reflection and conversations with Sam, I realized I had never exactly dated .

I met lots of women and… well , I fucked a lot of them during my first year on tour.

What Sam elegantly and affectionately refers to as my cell-hoe phase.

After that I traveled too much to think about something long-term.

But all in all, it was kind of miraculous that sex was comfortable for me at all given how things were during my first experiences with it.

But dating ?

Well, that shit was scary.

I could count on one hand the number of people I felt comfortable talking to at length, and no matter how many people I met while touring, that number hadn’t changed in over ten years.

But ever since I met her back in March, when something happened to me—like a funny exchange with a customer or a week without migraines—I wanted to tell Thea.

Thea would finally be attending a book club meeting at the pub tomorrow. Everything seemed to be budding and blooming from the last couple days of spring thunderstorms. And I was… happy? And Thea was becoming a big part of why I was happy.

Well, Thea and that I’d spent every night and day off approaching my music like an athlete rehabbing their body after an injury. I had experimented by going to local music venues. I had monitored my body closely for triggers and early symptoms.

Thea had been in and out of town so much that I had made a ton of excuses as to why I hadn’t asked her out yet.

But given the shit show that the rest of my life was right now… fuck it.

She came back to the counter for the thermos. “Thank you so much for this.”

“You’re welcome. Maybe would you want to watch the first part of the long Pride and Prejudice after book club tomorrow night?

It seems fitting.” I risked some eye contact with Thea, hoping I wouldn’t lose my nerve.

“You could come over to my place? I could make snacks. Potatoes in some form, obviously.” My gaze dipped to my hands on the counter.

“I make cupcakes too. I mean, they’re from a box mix with the rainbow chip icing that’s probably full of chemicals and going to kill me someday, but they’re delicious—” A hand slipped into mine, giving it a short squeeze before pulling away too soon.

“Chemical cupcakes, potatoes, and Colin Firth sounds great.” Thea was smiling that all-five-dimple smile that did things to me. Different things than the book smacking but no less intense. “I’d love to come over tomorrow.”

My own smile spread wide, and what I lacked in dimples hopefully I made up for in enthusiasm.

“I wanted to know if you could come by my studio later, because I’m trying out this camera I haven’t used for a while. I want to photograph your aura.”

“My what ?”

Thea leaned forward. “Your aura.”

“Okay, so I think I heard you right the first time, but I’m still confused.”

“So you know my grandfather’s camera collection?”

“The collection we spent twelve hours clearing out your studio space for a month ago?” My hands were clasped together on the counter just an inch from Thea’s. “Yep. I haven’t forgotten about it.”

“Glad you remember.” She winked at me. “So my grandfather collected all kinds of unique cameras, and this one is particularly special. I haven’t thought about it in years, but I was googling, and it seems like some places are charging for photos with it.

Samantha and I were brainstorming photo booth ideas for her book fair, and I thought of this. ”

“Okay but how… aren’t auras like…” I struggled against the urge to say fictional . “Invisible?”

“It’s easier to show you.” Thea’s expression turned a little wicked. “When do you get off?”

Not often enough lately. I swallowed, thankful I hadn’t said that aloud .

“Seven.”

“Come over after, and I’ll show you what I’m talking about.” Thea walked to one of the display racks to read the description on the back of a book featured under staff picks. Another thrill pulsed through me. The book Thea had picked off the shelves was one of my staff picks.

Be still my fucking fluttering heart.

I was in trouble.

I was also suddenly aware of the contrast between what I was wearing and Thea’s outfit.

Despite being in my early thirties, I never quite learned how to dress.

Background musicians took their cues from the lead musician of whatever band they were playing in, but I could get away with a lot onstage.

Offstage? I was clueless. Today I wore my usual uniform of thrift clothes I’d found on my travels: an old concert hoodie and favorite vintage Levi’s.

But it probably wasn’t very photogenic. Thea’s version of artsy looked so much more intentional and put together than anything I ever wore to work.

I gestured to my clothes. “Can I wear this? Like is it okay for the photo?”

“Absolutely.” Thea grinned approvingly before grabbing another book. “As long as it feels truly you.”

I did not know how it felt to “feel truly yourself” other than when I was in the recording studio or onstage performing. Somewhat ironic since I had adopted a stage name and persona whose main function was being literally unidentifiable.

Some days I felt like I had never been anyone else except Courtney Starling, the mousy, quiet bookseller in Kansas.

My brain had walled off the other part of my life, making those memories feel like a wild fever dream rather than the reality of how I had spent most of the last decade.

The closer I was to being physically ready to go back to that life, the further away I felt from it.

Especially if me quitting that life for good would prevent other people from getting hurt.

Maybe being here—being entirely here—was the way forward.

A palm waved in front of my face. Lighting from the window glinted off silver rings, reminding me of when we had watched the thundersnow.

“You glitched. Haven’t done that for a while.” Thea sucked on her bottom lip. And I had a weird urge to coax that small section of her lip out with my tongue. Totally normal.

“Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize. I think the whole ‘truly you’ thing was a lot. It’ll be fun. Just come tonight. I’ll show you mine first.”

Had my brain reached a level of sexual frustration where everything Thea said sounded sexual or was this just the way Thea spoke?

I needed to go to the grocery store. I needed to clean my entire little rental house and change the sheets. I needed to get my shit together before Thea came over tomorrow night. But sure, I could stop by and get my aura photographed first. Why not?