Addicted

Chapter 10.

I walked into the bookstore across the chemist. Emmett gave me instructions of where to go, so all I needed to do was walk there.

As soon as Zac and I drove back to the house, we went our separate ways. We were silent in the car for the rest of the trip, his voice replayed over and over inside my head.

'Don't, Ali.'

It was like a potent drug. His voice in my head and the thought of his hands on mine. I knew that if we went into his car and continued what we're doing, I wouldn't stop. I wouldn't let him stop.

I dressed appropriately, but casually. I needed to add a little extra makeup at the corner of my eye, as it was bruised from when my dad hit me. It wasn't as bad as what I've had before, but the bruise was still visible.

When I go to the front of the bookstore I laughed. The sign at the front of the door read 'Last Words'. Across the street was the chemist where Zac works. I wondered if he was there now. His car wasn't in the driveway, then again, neither was Burney's or Emmett's.

I opened the door and a bell chimed, signally my arrival.

The lady at the front desk greeted me. Her skin was dark, and her curly hair was up in a tight bun. Her lips were thick and painted in a dark purple that complemented her skin tone.

"Hey, I'm Ali," I smiled.

"Zari," She smiled back at me.

"Is the manager here? I'm here for a job interview." I watched her face contorting. "Uh, Zac organised it for me."

"Yes! I'm so glad you came. Come with me."

The Last Word was a beautiful place. Everything in the store was basically wood. The register was at the front and behind it was columns of bookshelves. On the side of the registers were stairs leading up to a balcony that wrapped around the store. It looked larger than what it did on the outside.

"There is our manager- Owen!" She shouts at him. "I'll be back downstairs if you need anything," Zari said and went back downstairs.

A tall guy was putting away a couple books on the balcony shelves and he turned when Zari yelled at him.

"Hello, I'm Owen, the bookstore owner."

"It's beautiful in here," I said in complete awe.

"Thank you. It took a while to get up and running."

"But it was totally worth it," I nodded my head.

"Indeed, it was," he laughed. He looked all over my face. "So how often do you read?" he asked, I felt like he was starting the interview already.

"As much as I can, whenever I can," I responded honestly.

"What genre do you like the most?" He was staring at me over his dark blue rimmed cat eyeglasses.

"Honestly, I'm a sucker for fiction, from all published dates."

"Describe your favourite book," He commanded.

"I don't need to," I answered.

"Why not?" he chuckled.

"Because it speaks for itself."

"How can I hire someone who doesn't describe their favourite book for me?"

"The book will speak for itself. I can give any book I read a review and I can recommend it to someone, but at the end of the day I cannot convince someone to fall in love with a book." He looked at me warily and wondered whether I had crossed a line. Why couldn't I just answer his stupid fucking question properly? I should have done a review.