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Lunar Books and Stationery is a comforting space. New, fresh-smelling and the neighborhood's first bookstore. It could use more books, and honestly, some coffee and better musical ambience, but the new customers let it slide.
The decision was fairly simple, the bookstore needs employees, Sam needs money, Sam likes books. The paycheck is decent and will do while he figures out what the hell he wants to do with his life now. Getting what you want isn’t always easy, especially when it comes with loss. But he wants a new beginning and some normalcy so this’ll have to be enough.
Being the small town’s handyman wasn’t exactly steady income and he really wants to live somewhere other than a dingy motel room, so he could use the money. He rents the city's cheapest apartment, with decorations so ugly and so many different colours his head spins, but he’s nothing short of a determined man. And he will build a life with his bare hands even if it’s the last thing he does. He also wants it bad, as scared to admit it as he is. There is a small flicker of hope that things will maybe work out.
He’s been working at the bookshop for a week now and got the handle of things quickly, it’s a tiring but simple 9-5 from monday to friday. He works alone on mondays and a beautiful, doe-eyed, soft-spoken coworker shares shifts with him the other days. You take care of the cashier, mostly, and of the daily store deliveries. He mostly organizes and helps lost customers.
He knows you so little but he’s fond of you somehow. He doesn’t really know why. You’re pretty and you seem genuine, your bashfulness and shy nature is cute and matches his, you don’t talk to each other much but you’re always polite and welcoming. The thing is, he wishes the two of you had longer conversations and, sometimes, the little shop is empty so the silence drags on. He doesn’t mind it but the sound of your voice is much nicer.
“Hey, I put those on the shelves, are there any more?” he asks you, willing his voice to sound warm and friendly.
“No, actually. That was all” you say, giving him a little smile.
“Okay, great,” he says, dimples showing “pretty quiet today, huh?”
“Yeah, not many clients today,” you answer, looking around the wooden walls of the little place. It was a quiet day. And Sam looked so nice with the simple uniform shirt with the shop’s logo. He also looked so kind, so friendly. “You’ve moved here just recently, right?” you ask, awkwardly trying to make conversation.
Sam looked pleasantly surprised, his small frown softening a little and his smile growing bigger. “Yeah, just over a month,” he answers.
You nod, say that’s cool, ask how he likes it here and you two make small talk. By the end of the shift you’re two smiling idiots, laughing at the others funny anecdotes. Sam considers asking you to go with him for some coffee as you two close up the store, wonders if it’s too forward of him, considers, recalculates. He really wants to hang out sometime, though.
They say goodbye and the rest of Friday stretches on. Monday brings new surprises.
The owner comes up with a little project. You and Sam print pamphlets promoting the so-called "Make your bookmark day” as you talk. It’s a small thing to get people to visit the place, make their own bookmarks and hopefully buy some books. There’s even a little contest, everyone votes and the winner gets to pick a book of the shop to take home for free or $30 in stationery. You and Sam think it’s a fun idea and giggle about it.
“So…do you study?” he asks as the printer works and runs hot.
“Not at college, at least not right now. Just study by myself and work here at the moment. I’m..kinda lost, trying to figure things out so..yeah.” you say, looking down a bit, cheeks going a little rosy. “What about you?”
“That’s cool, I can relate to that,” he says. “I’m kind of the same, not studying currently, just figuring things out and trying to make due”
“Yeah? Things are just confusing, man” You let out a little laugh.
“Oh, totally.” he answers, an amused smile on his lips as he watches you. “You’re so…chill about it, though”
You shrug “Thought long and hard but sometimes life is just life and doesn’t go as planned and it doesn’t have to be extraordinary. It just has to be life”. He nods: “That's true. Are you making a bookmark for the contest?” He switches subjects smoothly.
You nod, laughing “Yeah, think so. You?”
He nods, a grin on his lips “Yeah, think so.” You smile warmly at him and there’s a little something there, both of you feel it. Something scary? It doesn’t have to be. Maybe something good. Maybe life.
“Make your bookmark day” turns out to be loads of fun. You and Sam have a good time, even if you’re technically working. There’s a lot of laughing and the way the community gets together for the crafts is heartwarming. It’s nice to meet new people too. When the day comes to an end and the shop is all closed up Sam casually asks “So…do you like that? Crafts? Handmade stuff?”
You nod your head, tell him you do even if you’re not very good at it. He smiles and mentions the ceramics classes the neighbourhood is having, asks if you’d like to come to one with him, to try it together. It takes you a second to actually process he’s asking you out. You say yes, of course, who would say not to Sam, with his silky hair and puppy eyes and kind dimples? Besides, you feel yourself falling fast for him. He is seemingly there to catch you, though. You schedule it and he insists on walking you home, leaving a little kiss on your cheek as his warm breath conveys his goodbyes through the slightly chilly air.
You smile, blushing, standing on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek back, your beaten converse against the concrete of the sidewalk. He also blushes and shoots you a smile so pretty you almost faint on the spot. You walk into your building, smiling like a fool, giddy, happy, excited. For Sam, for life, what's the difference anyways?
Maybe this is life's way of slowly figuring things out and rewarding patient ones who wait. Sam smiles all the way home and cleans his messy apartment with a grin that whole afternoon. Maybe he found something truly good.
He texts you before swinging by so you can walk together. The streets are mostly empty and there’s a hint of a summer breeze in the air now, the sky turning all shades of orange.There’s a few people in the class you take, mostly children and sweet elderly ladies. They make little jokes about how a young couple is a good fit for the group. Your face runs hot but Sam laughs about it, so you feel lighter.
It’s safe to say you and Sam make a mess and get yourselves dirty even with the aprons on. He looks adorable in it, also. You throw your heads back laughing at the ugly pottering you’re making. “Hey, at least we’re making something!” Sam jokes. You can’t help but feel like that’s true in more ways than one.
You make a wonky mug and Sam manages a decent bowl. He seems great at everything and your eyes shine with fondness as he geeks out with the elderly ladies, talking about the philosophies of ceramics and crafts. You can’t believe this is actually a date. You get cleaned up as best as you can and leave together. He offers you his jacket just because, since it's not very cold outside. You take it.
He walks you back home and this time you invite him in. He looks doubtful, bless him, as if overstepping, but you insist. Your little apartment is messy but cozy as you two walk in and you like to think it feels like home. He marvels over some of your shelves as you make him tea and nerd out about books.
“I’ve read bits and pieces of ‘The Story of Art’,” he says, “and really enjoyed it.”
“It’s definitely nice, I’d say. I also have a book on Monet there, if you can find it,” she says. “I saved money for it, it’s really pretty.”
He does find it and holds it like it’s something infinitely precious. You hand him a mug with hot tea and he drinks it down gladly, flipping through the book carefully. You spend a nice little afternoon cooped up in your apartment, finding gems and trinkets to show him within the mess. Your taste in books is so similar you decide to make a little book club and he talks about the shelves he bought for his own place because he owns more books now than he ever did before.
“I’ve read Jane Austen and-” he says, before you interrupt him.
“You’re perfect,” it slips out before you even realize it and you blush profusely. But once again, Sam smiles, blushes a little and looks so giddy you want to compliment him forever.
Later, when he leaves, a soft goodbye kiss on the cheek turns into a little peck and you two can’t stop smiling like idiots about it. He also gives you the warmest hug and you have the feeling life will figure itself out. Not because you found him, but because the mysteries and confusion must amount to something and maybe you’ll have the pleasure of holding each other through the bumpy road with its twists, turns and steadiness.