Jessica's POV

"It's a god-awful sight."

I ran my fingers delicately along the worn and weathered spines as I walk. I look over at my dog, Olaf, sitting perfectly perched next to a display of a collection of poems by Emily Brontë. His onyx eyes stared at me, listless and uninterested. He brought a gray paw up to his mouth and then turned his attention to that. I smiled, more to myself I suppose, and continued talking.

"No one reads books anymore."

My parents ran a small secondhand bookstore, while our living area was placed on the floor above it. The building was nothing fancy, nothing large. We owned a corner spot an a bustling city street. It wasn't the prettiest and most modern place to be, like the local library that opened up a few minutes away. There were no barcodes, no solid-colored chairs, and crisp white furniture.

"No one reads books anymore..." My voice took a softer tone.

This place seemed aged and musky. Furniture was mismatched and the books that lined every inch of wall and floor made the store feel too cramped. Lighting was dim, my parents had invested their money only in incandescents. It was completely unethical, but they said that fluorescents ruined the mood of the reader. They hung down from the ceiling, a detail people might find as stylish, but it was simply for practical reasons. It was easier for us to reach them if they were lower. On clear days, I often relied on the sunlight streaming through the windows.

"Just the thought saddens my heart."

Regardless of the bad light and feeling of claustrophobia, I always enjoyed this place. I found comfort in the yellowed pages and faded covers around me. During summers I'd sit on the floor with a fan beside me, reading through pages of Charles Dickens and Jane Austen. In the winter I'd fix myself a large cup of hot chocolate in the back room and curl up in one of the armchairs, engrossed in Nicholas Sparks and Danielle Steel. And on rainy nights like tonight, I wanted to fall asleep to the sound of my mother's voice reading me Lewis Carroll's Alice in Wonderland.

"They prefer to read stories of fifteen year old girls in high school romances."

I pursed my lips in disapproval and leaned against the register counter.

"Or even so, stories like that are often written by fifteen year old girls. Stories about boys various boys falling in love with a single female lead and her falling in love with the arrogant and handsome athlete simply for the fact he toys with her emotions and has a great outward appearance."

I lightly crossed my arms and stared pensively at the wooden floor.

"It really is a god-awful sight, Olaf."

"How would you fall in love with someone then?"

The voice startled me and I jumped from the counter, standing straight with my muscles tensed. I had thought I was here all alone, I felt myself blush at the thought of someone hearing every word I had said. A girl with a long wavy copper brown hair tousled against her face and a damp jacket walked out from one of the higher bookshelves. Her dark chocolate eyes looked at me in apology and then looked at the floor. She stammered.

"I-I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to get out of the r-rain and—"

"Do you want a towel?" My offer cut her off. I couldn't stand stammering, I never enjoyed listening to people read in class with stuttered words and bad annunciation. Yes, it was rude and malicious of me, but it was a personal belief that words spoken should be delivered confidently. As her head rose I watched a droplet of water glide down her cheek and against her perfect jawline before falling onto the floor. I had never seen someone so attractive stand in the store before.

"I-If you wouldn't mind, that would be nice—"

"Take your jacket off, too. I'll hang it up by the heater in the back."

She quickly un zipped her jacket, revealing a simple pink long-sleeved shirt. She handed it to me and I made my way to the back room, returning with a towel. I tossed it to her, in a swift motion she grasped it. I rose an eyebrow, but decided not to ask about it. She quickly rubbed it against her head and then held it out to me. Her hair was going every which way, but it was hardly near the point of being considered dry. I kept my eyebrow raised.

"Really?"

"What?" She stared at me entirely confused. I let out a sigh and took the towel in my hands.

"Sit," I pointed to the dark blue arm chair placed in the corner of the store. She stared at me, so I said it again. "Sit."

She quickly made her way over to the chair and sat down. I made my way behind it. She looked up at me quizzically, but I lightly pushed her head back down and faced it forward.

"If you don't dry your hair properly you're going to catch a cold," I said softly.

I began drying her hair for her, rubbing the towel against her damp, brunette locks. At times, my fingers would brush in between them and I found that her hair was incredibly soft. Her shoulders drooped in relaxation. I watched as Olaf playfully skipped from his spot and made his way over to where we were. He rubbed up against the girl's leg and let out a soft bark.

"See? Olaf's trying to dry you off, too. He doesn't want you catching a cold either."

The girl chuckled and ran the back of her hand against Olaf's fur. I felt her tilt her head slightly upwards in my direction.

"D-Do you always dry the hair of your customers?" Her voice was soft and her words were warm. I liked the sound of them. I noticed that the tips of her ears were warm, I felt myself smile.

"Do you always go into the rain without an umbrella?"

Her ears got redder. Her flustering and embarrassment was rather adorable. Her innocence was refreshing, like opening the pages of a new book. She got quiet and she relaxed once more into my touch.

"I was wondering if you had a book I was looking for." Her voice was husky.

"What book?"

"The Picture of Dorian Gray."

"Ah, that's one of my favorites," I was smiling at the memory of reading it for the first time. "I'll find it for you."

I removed the towel from her hair and draped it over the arm of the chair. She rose from the seat, Olaf moved away from her legs. I turned to go up the staircase that led to the books that were shelved on our upper level-balcony area. The girl quietly followed me. With every step up, the stairs creaked and I ran my fingers against the spines that lined the wall opposite of the railing. The smell of old paper and ink was always stronger up here, I always found it a welcoming scent that enveloped me like a warm blanket. Most of the popular classic literature was shelved up here, I had spent countless nights curled up with many of these books. It was a perfect place to read because you couldn't see much of the space from the main floor.

"You never answered my question," she said from behind me.

"Which question was that?" I asked her as we came to the stop of the staircase. I turned a corner and slowly started scanning titles and author's.

"The question from before... how would you fall in love?"

I blushed at the remembrance of her interrupting what I thought was a discussion with myself. I focused on my sights on the books in front of me. I silence settled itself between us; she was waiting for my answer. I stopped. My hand rested on a copy of Catcher in the Rye.

"If I fall in love with someone... I think it'll be her wor