The door has a bell that chimes when we enter and the relief of air conditioning I'd grown so accustomed to is absent. The store smells of old leather, used oils, and light dust. Books. Old ones. I get a giddy smile on my face.

"S'my new goal."

I look to Louis who's dropped my hand and is considering my face with a light-hearted curiosity.

"What's that?" I start making my way deeper into the piles of books stacked on top of one another, too many to be contained by the shelves alone.

"See, my old goal was to keep you entertained. My new goal is to make you smile like you did coming in this store."

"Ha," I chuckle, "that shouldn't be too hard. I'm fairly easily amused. Books. Pretty buildings. Anything chocolate. Campfires. A great song."

"You've yet to list a human being." Louis quips and my blush returns.

"Touché."

"So," he claps his hands together, "What're we searchin' for? Anythin' specific?"

I mentally run a check on his perception of me and then decide that while he may think I'm crazy, I've got to at least give him the chance to make the decision on his own.

"The Bungalow Mystery."

He lifts one eyebrow. One. I've always wanted to be able to do that. And right now I just want to touch it. That wouldn't give him much of a choice in the crazy decision though, so I refrain.

"It's the 3rd Nancy Drew mystery," I explain, somewhat sheepishly. "When I was a kid, I loved those books. They came in this small yellow hardback and I loved Nancy and Ned and Bess and George--especially George--but I also loved the way they looked on my shelf. It was like a row had been highlighted. It was important."

I breathe and look at him to make sure he's not completely turned off. He waves his hand as if to tell me to continue.

"So then I started collecting them. I'm a mess of a person, but I like order in some things. All the books are numbered. I gave up collecting all of them, but I desperately wanted numbers 1 through 10 in a neat row. For some reason, I had the hardest time finding number 3. I started looking for it in every store. When I finally found it, I was thrilled, but I'd lost something too. I missed having a mission. So then I just decided that I wouldn't quit. Why not? So now every time I'm in a bookstore, especially old ones, I look for The Bungalow Mystery. I've got a small collection of it now." I take a deep breath and start fingering the spines of the books on the shelf next to me.

"That's possibly the greatest thing I've ever heard." I look up to see Louis smiling. Genuinely smiling. If I could, I'd lift one eyebrow.

"You've not heard much," I smile back.

"False. I've been told a great many things. That's the best so far. Congratulations, Stephanie. You're on my list."

I do a quick curtsy, "Why thank you, kind sir."

He grabs my hand again. I like when that happens.

"Shall we?"

---

"So why George?"

"I'm sorry?" We've left the bookstore--no luck on Nancy #3 today, and are walking back towards the bus stop where we'd first met.

"When you were explainin' your book hunt, you said you especially liked George. Why?"

I look down at our joined hands. It's a strange thing, walking connected to someone else. It forces you to find a mutual pace. I like keeping my own pace. Yet somehow, I don't mind that he slows me down.

"You're a really great listener." I laugh back up at him.

"You're a good talker," he squeezes my hand and I'm fairly certain I leave my heart on the sidewalk. That's the only place it could've gone when it jumped straight out of my chest. I have to clear my throat to cover the obvious escape of a vital organ.

"I like the name George. She's Georgia, right, but I like the idea of a girl with a boy's name. And then George was my favorite character in the next book series I read, so that just kind of solidified it. I became a routine sucker for George's."

"My real name's George." Louis deadpans.

"Seriously?" I don't know. He could be telling the truth.

"No," he chides, "but I didn't want to put myself out of the running immediately."

"I'd say you're pretty safe."

"Oh yeah?"

I bite my bottom lip and squeeze his hand, "Yeah. I mean, I'm not counting you out entirely. Just, like, a bit. But only for the chip thing earlier."

He seems proud of himself, "Fair enough. I'll work on making up for that."

We've reached the bus stop and now I'm awkward. This is the worst part. It's the middle of the day. I have no excuse to leave, but keeping on and entertaining has proven slightly exhausting. We’re not to the stage where silence is comfortable yet. Which is fine. You’re not supposed to be there on a first date, but it’s why I tend to avoid dating. I hate how long it takes to get comfortable. This is not fun or exciting for me. It’s excruciating. I also wonder how much of my life is consumed by thoughts racing at inhuman speeds when it could be spent noticing real life actions.

“I’ve lost you again.”

“What?” I look up and notice he’s grinning. I should be embarrassed. I’ve started to associate his grins with an understanding that I’ve done something I shouldn’t. That could prove difficult.

“Nothin’,” he chuffs my shoulder, “Ya just started wanderin’. Inside. Wanted to bring you back with me.”

“I’m so sorry,” I laugh and run both hands through the ends of my hair, separating us. “I don’t mean to do it; really I don’t. I just get awkward and then I start thinking too much and then--”

His lips on mine are hard and quick. I feel his hands on either side of my face and feel the heat and smoothness of his cheeks as he slows down, gently kissing my closed lips. His hand trails my right shoulder and I am on fire. He pulls back and the distance is unexpectedly unbearable.

“Sorry,” he grins, not the least bit sorry. “Normally I’d ask permission, but I didn’t want you to overthink it.”

“I--”

He leans in again and my mind goes blank. He kisses my left cheek and holds both my shoulders firmly in his hands.

“I’d like to see you again. Soon. Would that be alright?” Louis’s eyes are laughing, but his face is asking.

“Yes please,” I manage. His hands run down my arms to my elbows where they squeeze gently.

“Right then. Let’s say Thursday? My week’s a little full until then.”

“Thursday works.” My heart does a flip flop. Sometime between his hand squeeze and his kiss, it made its way back into my chest cavity. I’m starting to think my lack of trust resides in my own body and not in this blue-eyed man.

“Brilliant. This is your bus, yeah?” He gestures to the oncoming transport and I nod. “Okay, then. See you Thursday, Stephanie. Thank you for today.” He gives a quick hug and I’m slightly disappointed. I don’t want to rush anything, but I liked his kiss. I wouldn’t mind it again.

“Louis?” I grab hold of the edge of the bus as I step on and he looks up expectantly, “I had fun today. Thank you.”

He grins an ear-splitting grin and nods politely back at me as I board. My phone buzzes as I sit down.

From Louis:
That wasn’t so bad, was it? : )

To Louis:
Who said I was anticipating something awful?

From Louis:
Your think-to-talk ratio is intimidating. Just wanted to be sure. Had a great time with you.

To Louis:
If it helps, I was thinking about you.

From Louis:
It helps : )

To Louis:
Thursday?

From Louis:
Count on it.

Notes

Apologies for the delay in update and the length of this particular chapter. I don't normally write notes, but recent events seem to merit one.

I think one of the beautiful things about fanfiction is that it allows us to feel a closeness with the subjects of our stories that is otherwise unobtainable in real life. I think the downside of that is the feelings associated with the real lives of characters we've chosen to fictionalize for our own accounts. What is, in reality, of no consequence to our daily life becomes intensely personal and something with which we are forced to cope. As an older fan, I was particularly engaged in most recent news and struggling with both real life implication and fan response. I was also extraordinarily heartened by the depths of compassion at heart in this fan base.

That being said, I am thrilled to learn that the boys we've grown to love so much have turned into upstanding men with real responsibilities and complicated lives. I am happy to write Louis and I will continue to do so. I thank any and all of you for reading. Cheers and blessings to all who find creative outlets in mutual love.