Meet Me After Class

Chapter 2: Don't Talk to Strangers

Saturday finally rolled in and our sleepy, little town bustled again with tourists browsing in the shops and locals doing their weekend shopping and lunch buffets. Mom and dad gave Belle, my younger sister, and me the liberty to do what we would like to do with our Saturdays—Sundays were strictly meant for family time—and I chose to work additional extra hours at Brown's, Pinecrest's first-ever book store.

In the heart of our town, Adam's grandfather built the quaint shop, a cherished haven handed down to his father when the old old man died of age. We used to spend most of our Saturdays between shelves, reading Hardy Boys and The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn.

Then tragedy struck when Adam's father succumbed to a heart attack, a mere month past his thirteenth birthday. That's when I started helping him and his mom run the store. And as we grew up, our interests began to change. He started to spend more time reading comic books, while I fell in love with classic romance novels.

"Heathcliff was an asshole. He was an asshole to everyone." Adam stood behind the shelf, removing a few travel books that had somehow gotten mixed up in the adult classic section.

"No, he's not. He's a tortured soul, misunderstood, and definitely not an asshole," I disputed, standing next to him and arranging books in alphabetical order.

It wasn't the first time that we had argued over Wuthering Heights' devilish character, Heathcliff. The poor guy needed constant defending from people like my best friend, who only saw his exterior attributes.

"He's obsessive and violent."

"Hindley bullied him. He was abused. Okay, he may be a monster, but blame it on the mean and nasty people around him. And Catherine saw something in him, okay."

Adam hissed. "Excuses. He loved her but then he hurt her? Douchebag."

I had enough. I had never convinced him to shed a little sympathy over Heathcliff before. There was no way he'd change his mind now. "Look, just stick to your comic books, okay?"

When his usual smirk graced his lips, and his eyes sparkled, I knew he wasn't ready to stop annoying me with his bashing, but, before he could utter another word, a female voice interrupted us from the counter. "Hello?"

"Go. I'll finish this," I quickly told him.

He smirked again and pointed his finger at me. "We're not done yet."

I should have known better and not brought comic books into the topic. I'm pretty sure we would spend the entire day arguing now.

"Be with me always—take any form—drive me mad! Only do not leave me in this abyss, where I cannot find you!"

I whirled around to look for the voice that prompted my heart to beat faster than it should.

There was no one.

I turned again and, this time, saw a guy taller than Adam in a corner. He was smiling at me and in his hand was a hardbound copy of Oliver Twist.

"I like Bronte, too. Wuthering Heights is one of my favorites."

Scruffy, short blond hair. Dark brown eyes. Athletic build. A plain white shirt and denim jeans. No. He didn't look like he was the type to read Bronte.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. I didn't mean to eavesdrop either," he added quickly when I remained quiet and still as a tomb.

Did he just quote one of my favorite lines from Wuthering Heights out of nowhere? Who does that?