Wish You Were Her(58)

“You don’t want to go to university when the summer is over?”

Jonah glanced at her, shrugging. “No.”

“Can I ask why?”

“I don’t do very well in educational environments. I always argue with teachers.”

“I think at uni, you’re meant to kind of argue with the teachers.”

“No, everyone hates that guy.”

Allegra laughed. “What do you mean?”

“The ‘this is more of a comment than a question’ guy. The guy who challenges the person with a PhD and tenure. The guy who just wants to have his voice heard.”

Allegra arched an eyebrow. “Are you saying going to uni will turn you into that guy?”

He smiled and she marveled at his dimples. “Maybe. I’m not sure. Don’t want to risk it.”

“How long have you been at Brooks Books?”

“Started helping out when I was fourteen. Employed officially at sixteen. I wore your dad down.”

“Are you two close?”

Something appeared in Jonah’s eyes for a moment but it was gone in an instant. “I thought we were.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. But he’s been super distant of late.”

“You probably know Dad better than me, but he’s never been an amazing communicator.”

“Yeah, well.” Jonah released an exhale. “Neither am I.”

“You want to work there for always?”

She was aware that she was interrogating him a little, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“No, not always,” he said. “But I want to stay in the world of books.”

“What about publishing?”

“Not many presses in Lake Pristine.”

“You could start one.”

He turned to stare at her, as if no one had ever offered up any kind of interest in this side of him before. She wondered if she had thrown him off the script in his head.

“Yeah, maybe,” he said softly, still staring at her.

“My mother works in publishing,” she reminded him. “I could reintroduce you. In a professional capacity.”

He regarded her for a moment and then said, “I want to write.”

Her expression did not change, she had to stop herself from saying, “I know” because she had read his emails over and over again. All she did was nod. “I can tell. You aren’t … you don’t speak like anyone else around here. And I think you see everything. It’s why you have so many opinions.”

“Too many.”

“That girl you were writing to,” she spoke in a whisper, “I’m sure she could tell you were a writer.”

“She was a good friend to me. Whoever she is.”

Allegra felt her chest seize. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. This summer’s been weird. Not just because of the arrival of a beautiful film star. Simon’s not who I thought he was. I’m re-examining our whole friendship. Kerrie’s been weird. George—your dad—has been weird. And every time I screwed up with you at the shop, I would write to her. And she would write back, telling me everything would be okay. She was a real friend.”

Allegra blinked rapidly, desperately trying to keep her eyes dry and her face relaxed. “I’m sorry she didn’t come.”

“Me too. It’s … it’s complicated. She must have had a reason.”

“She was really sorry,” Allegra breathed. “When I spoke to her. Desperately sorry. She wanted to be there.”

“Yeah. Well. I’ve kinda got a small amount of tolerance for people who don’t show up.”

Allegra watched the regret mark up his handsome face and it was exactly what made her want to hold back her feelings. He was definitely cooler toward his mystery girl, clearly stung from being stood up.

So, she pushed a little, dipping her toe in the waters of something she had sworn she wouldn’t do.

“How old is she? Your pen-pal?”

Jonah blinked. “I don’t actually know. We don’t exchange super personal details.”

Allegra pretended to gape at him. “Jonah!”

“What?”

“She could be ancient. She could be old enough to be your great-grandmother.”

Jonah’s eyes widened a little but he shook his head, clearly dislodging any doubt. “She’s not old! She sounds my age. I think.”

“But you’re a bit of an old man, Thorne.”

There was a pause.

“How old did she sound over the phone?” he asked innocently.

Allegra smothered a smirk. “Not sure. She sounded stressed. But if she has a hotshot job in social media, she must be well out of school.”

You’re evil, a voice in her head whispered. But another reminded her that she needed him to know exactly who it was he claimed to like. Not a goddess on the screen, not a savior in an email.

A human.

Their eyes locked and she felt the full force of the electricity he always invoked. Palpable and overpowering, but she was no longer able to bury it beneath an argumentative tone or a squabble.

“Allegra,” Jonah spoke roughly, his voice deeper than before. “I can’t stop thinking about you.”

Allegra was held back by eighteen years of saying the wrong thing. She didn’t have a script with stage directions in front of her. She had no way of knowing how the scene would go, how the other person would respond. It wasn’t blocked or written down or rehearsed. It was live and unpredictable. And she was scared.