8. Tropes

8

Tropes

Maxime

"So, where are we going?" I ask as we're strolling down the street. It's a beautiful day. The weather is still a good eighty degrees but with a slight breeze. After four years living in Michigan, I'm enjoying this warmer weather.

"There's this big furniture store we went to in the spring to furnish the upstairs apartment. I think we'll find what we need there."

I nod, then frown. "You moved into that apartment all by yourselves?"

"Crazy, huh?" She smirks. "Girls aren't that useless when we're left to our own devices."

My frown deepens. "No, that's not what I meant. I just wish I'd been there. I could have helped."

I was still in Michigan at the time. Between studying and playing hockey, my life was so hectic that I couldn't get a couple days off. Once our family was on board with Alice moving and everything, I kind of let it go. I was laser-focused on my performance to get into the NHL. And it worked, but now I feel bad that I wasn't there to lend my sister and her friends a hand. I know my dad was here, but with his back and knee problems, he can't lift anything.

Her face softens. "I know." She bumps her shoulder to my side. "I'm kidding. We managed, but I'm not going to lie. Having a hockey player or two to help us move would have been nice."

My lips tilt into a smile. "So, what are we getting today? More bookshelves?"

"Haha. Very funny. We need a couch and a couple of armchairs. Then, a rug and a coffee table."

"You do know you're furnishing a store , right, Nash?" I tease. "Not your living room."

She smirks. "That's where you're wrong, Beaumont. We're not just building a store. We want to create an exceptional and immersive experience for our customers," she says, her sparkling brown eyes settling on me. "We want them to feel good once they enter our shop, to take the time to browse, read the first chapter of the book to make sure it's a good fit before buying it. In time, we're also going to host book clubs, readings, and signings."

I love how animated she becomes when she talks about her passion. You can almost see her mind reeling behind her eyes at all the possibilities. She speaks faster, her heartbeat undoubtedly quickening as she adds gestures to punctuate her every word.

"That's incredible, and really smart. Now I kind of wish I was a reader just to spend time in a place like that." Especially if that would mean hanging out with Hayley Nash all day. I have a feeling she'll be selling a lot of books to a lot of guys. A pang of irritation comes over me, and suddenly, I want to punch every single guy living within a ten-mile radius of her store.

"Maybe you should start reading, then?" I must be dreaming, because the way she says it—with that intense stare—makes me feel like she's flirting with me. We did have a moment yesterday, though I'm not sure it was anything more than a show of solidarity between friends. But even if it was, I'll take it. It's progress .

"Maybe, yeah." I let my gaze linger on hers a while longer, trying to decipher the meaning of that gleam in her magnetic gaze, but we're already arriving at the station. We walk to the platform, and luckily, we don't have to wait long for a train.

We find a seat next to each other, and since I'm so greedy for more sparkling Hayley time, I ask what else they have planned for their store.

"So much!" she says, clasping her hands. "We're thinking of stocking bookish merch as well. You know, like stickers, magnets, bookmarks, and an annotation station with cute pens, emoji stickers, highlighters, and post-its. We're just waiting to see how much actual space we have left once everything is filled with books. Emma also came up with the idea of having a bowl with numbers, and each number is matched to a book. So if you don't know what to read, you can get a random rec'."

"Wow. That's pretty cool—and interactive," I say as the train comes to a stop. A tall guy with blond hair and a side-swept fringe sits across from us, so we have to scrunch our legs. Really, dude? There are like ten other free seats in this car alone.

Hayley doesn't even notice him and just keeps going. "And we'll do trope cards for each book we sell, for readers who just want to know the tropes and not read the blurb. "

"Wait, people buy books without reading the blurbs?"

"Yup! Emma is proof of that. She just looks at the cover, the title, and the author, and she buys it. Lately, she's been narrowing her choices down to tropes she likes. But usually, to know the tropes, you need to read the blurb or look online."

"What do you mean exactly by tropes?" I ask, casting a glance at Surfer Dude across from me. He's had his eyes on Hayley ever since he sat down. Not that I can blame him. She's wearing a square lined T-shirt that's hugging her body a little tighter than usual, and it shows just enough cleavage. That, combined with her usual gorgeousness that's currently being multiplied by the energy she radiates as she talks about books, and she is downright irresistible. But this guy has no business ogling her. She's mine. Back off, dude. I punctuate my thought with a death stare in his direction. He frowns but doesn't stop looking.

"Oh, right." She shakes her head. "I keep forgetting how little you know about all this. I think you'll need a full training session."

That makes me laugh as I focus back on her. "Please, educate me."

"Tropes are like themes or clichés that you find in books or movies. For example, they start as enemies and they become lovers, or they're friends who eventually end up together, or the guy is a celebrity, or they're fake dating. That kind of thing."

"Oh, I get it. Although I haven't heard of that last one. How can you fake date?" My jaw tenses. The dude is still gaping at her. I'm not a violent guy by any means, but there's nothing I'd like more right now than to punch his annoying face.

"You know, when one or both of them need to pretend to have a boyfriend or girlfriend. There are a lot of reasons for that."

I raise my eyebrows. "Oh, really?" Does that ever happen in real life? Now I'm curious.

"Sure. Maybe it's because your family is pushy and keeps setting you up with people, and you want them to stop, or maybe you need to clean up your image for the public—that works for celebrities, actors, et cetera—or you want to make your ex jealous."

"Okay." Those are valid enough reasons, I guess. "So, people act as if they're dating? Like, I would put my arm around you like this?" I drape an arm around her shoulders, drawing her toward me. Surfer Dude's eyebrows twitch, and I level him with a stare.

Hayley giggles, her hand falling on my thigh as she catches her balance. "Yeah. It's like pretend-dating, but only when you're in public. "

Nodding in understanding, I sneak one more glance at Surfer Dude, but he's now deep in his phone. I don't know how he managed to detach his eyes from her, but I'm glad my plan worked.

I wish Hayley would stay huddled against me, but the train rattles, and she settles back into her seat. "So, yeah. We'll put tropes on cards so people can see what's in store before buying. Tropes help capture the essence of the book without having to read the blurb. And we'll do the same with any trigger warnings, like if there's a death in the book or graphic violence. That kind of thing. Some readers prefer to know beforehand."

That's all very well thought out. I like that they're preparing for every possibility while still making the shopping process fun for both them and the customers. "I'm guessing you read the blurbs, right? Considering you read the end before even starting the book," I joke.

"Aw. You know me so well already," she says, a hand on her chest.

"I listen."

"That's so rare in today's world." She chuckles.

Finally, our stop arrives. Our destination isn't far from the subway station. It's also fairly big, which makes sense for a furniture store but is also surprising for New York .

We enter the well-lit building and walk straight to the couch section. She must have a clear idea of what she wants, because she doesn't really stop between the pieces, just sweeping a sharp eye over them while walking. Finally, she stops and sits on a blue, velvety looking couch.

"This. I like it. What do you think?"

I sit down next to her and sink into the couch, nearly falling through the cushions. It's a body-swallowing couch, for sure. There's a big dip where I'm sitting compared to her. "Not very comfortable, is it?"

She frowns, adjusting herself again, but she's sliding toward me. I should be used to our sides touching by now, yet every time, there's this little spark I can't get enough of. "It feels comfortable to me. Why do you think it's not?"

"You're kidding, right? This thing is swallowing us. Plus, look how you're sliding toward me because of our weight difference."

"But that's the good part. You just sink into the couch with a good book and get lost in a fictional world."

I raise an eyebrow. "Or you get lost in the couch itself. I swear, this thing is alive."

She laughs out loud, and I chuckle along.

"Fine, you may be right. It's more a single-person couch. Maybe they have this style as an armchair instead. I don't care if they're mismatched. "

I stretch, rubbing my lower back. "Sitting here is the best way to break your back. Trust me, don't get this. You need a firmer cushion for lumbar support."

"Fine, gee. I didn't know you were so educated about couches," she says, rolling her eyes playfully.

"That's one of my best qualities." I wink. "What did I tell you? I knew you'd need me today. I've already prevented a terrible decision."

She turns around, placing both hands on my shoulders. "What would I do without you, Maxime Beaumont? I'm so lucky to have you in my life."

She said it as a joke, but there's a miniscule part of me that dwells on the fantasy that she meant it, or that one day she could. And that idea transforms that little spark of electricity from earlier into the same surge of adrenaline I get after scoring a goal. Only this is even better.