The Bookworm's Guide to Faking It (The Bookworm's Guide 2)

“Oh, you’re so full of fucking hot air that, if you go outside, you’ll change the climate.”

I flipped her the bird and bit down on my sandwich. I didn’t want to talk about him, but she was like a dog with a bone and she wasn’t going to give this up.

“I don’t get it. What happened was a long time ago,” Saylor went on, sipping from her takeout cup. “You’ve said you’re over it. I’m sure it’s gonna be awkward to see him again, but surely it’s better to get that over and done with.”

I glared at her. I wasn’t going to be goaded into this again. I’d already been there and done that a few weeks ago when I’d seen him for the first time and my heart had gone into overdrive.

I’d never tell them that there was a part of me that wondered if there was still a lingering feeling left for Seb. Closure was a thing that we as humans needed, and it was something I’d never gotten on my friendship with him.

Or my feelings for him.

Realistically, I knew Say was right. Seeing him wasn’t going to be the end of the world moment I’d built it up in my mind to be. It would probably be totally fine, if a little awkward, but not an awful moment I would never live down.

I had dating for those moments.

Still, that wasn’t the point. Emotions were a fickle thing, and I just didn’t want to see him.

However, I had a horrible feeling that I was about to, given that he now knew where to find me.

“Anyway, did you finish that book?”

That ‘woopah’ you just heard? It was me getting whiplash from the change in direction.

I blinked and pushed all thoughts of Sebastian Stone from my mind. “No. I got so mad at Layla last night I had to put the book down.”

Saylor pushed her pink hair behind her ear. “You threw it, didn’t you?”

“Might have dropped it harshly,” I muttered, taking off my glasses so I could clean the lenses. They were all steamed up thanks to our soup. “Look, I just don’t understand her thought process. She had unprotected sex with Simon, but thinks she wants to choose Jameson. I just don’t think I can cope with the angst right now.”

She sighed a long-suffering sigh and leaned forward. “Do you want me to alleviate some of that for you?”

“No, no!” I waved my hands, and the spoon in my right one flicked tomato soup on the register. Oops. “I’m going to finish it, I just need to take a break. Find a palate cleanser somewhere.”

“Oh, gee,” she said dryly. “I wonder where you can find a book, Holley.” Wide-eyed, she looked around at the bookstore around us.

Seriously. I didn’t know how I hadn’t killed her yet. And, thanks to the myriad of mysteries I’d read, I probably could get away with it, too.

If not, I sometimes think it would be worth it.

“There’s no need to be a bitch just because it’s your general state of being,” I replied just as dryly. “You asked.”

“I offered to alleviate your worries.” She shrugged and sipped her coffee again. “It’s no bother to me if you keep your panties in a wad.”

Ugh. “Fine, tell me. But not who she chooses! Just if she’s pregnant.”

“She’s not pregnant.”

“If you’re lying, I’m going to beat you with a dictionary.”

“I’m not lying.” She laughed, shaking her head. “I swear. I might mess with you about Sebastian, but I won’t mess with your books.” She drew a little cross over her heart with her finger. “Cross my heart.”

I pursed my lips before relenting. “Fine. But I mean it. If you’re wrong, I’m going to murder you and feed you to some pigs.”

“Where are going to find pigs in November in White Peak?”

“Who said I’d do it right away?”

Saylor shook her head. “You are so weird.”

“I know. It’s why we’ve been friends for twenty-something years. Weird attracts weird.”

“I resent that statement. I’m not weird, I’m an acquired taste.”

Now that was something I wasn’t going to argue with.CHAPTER TWO – HOLLEYrule two: it’s never as easy as it is in books.I took a bite out of my breakfast burrito as I flicked through the spring brochure from one of the publishers we regularly bought books from. I put it down and switched it out for a Sharpie, then circled the ones on the page I wanted to order.

I felt like a child circling what presents she wanted for her birthday.

Mind you, owning a bookstore was a lot like that. Every week when new books came, it was like Christmas.

It never got old.

I took the last bite of my breakfast and crumpled the wrapper into a ball in my fist, then tossed it in the direction of the trash can. Well, breakfast was a bit late—it was more of a brunch, and one that wasn’t the healthiest thing in the world.