Page 14 of The Intimacy of Control

“Oh, I forgot to mention. David told me about that place. They said it has a lot of variety and that the owner is really nice. They said they only carry indie author works right now, which I thought was interesting.”

I sipped on my boba, chewing a few of the pearls as we stopped in front of the doors. It looked small but inviting from what I could see through the windows. I waited for Crew and Willow to go in first, taking my time to look around.

The decorations and furniture were a bit different from what I’d expected. There were chairs of all types and even a couple of couches spaced out around the area. There were also a lot of bookshelves. A lot more than I was expecting for a smaller bookstore.

“Welcome in!” A man at the front smiled at us. “Let us know if you need anything.”

He had bright purple hair with eyebrows to match. There was also a subtle shimmer of something on his lips, making them shine a little in the light. I flashed him a tight smile and followed the others to one of the sections on the left. Everything had signs hanging above the larger sections, along with labels on the shelves for specific genres.

“Wow.” Crew scanned the aisle. “This is big.”

“They really do have a lot of books.” I reached out and touched one of the placards, feeling the plastic.

Willow patted me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go explore. Y’all have fun.”

I turned to Crew. I didn’t even read, if I was being honest. He said he read every now and then but wanted to get into it more, and this seemed like the best place to start. “If you want to go explore as well, I’ll be fine. I’ll just look around and find a couch or chair or…a beanbag to sit on when I’m done.” They really had every type of seating possible.

“Sounds good. Don’t get lost!”

There was plenty of stuff I could wander around and look at, even if I didn’t think I’d be too interested. Some of the books were facing outward like they were on a specific display, and they all had really interesting covers.

I found my way down an aisle that had two beanbag chairs right in the center. There was a book right in the middle, sitting on the top shelf, that caught my attention—it looked hand-drawn, the characters standing beside each other, each with their own personality in their poses. I picked it up, turning the book around to stare at the back of it.

The description on the back seemed interesting. It was a romance book about two dudes who played football and a painter who was reluctant to accept their love for the football players.

Humming to myself, I sank into one of the beanbag chairs, setting my boba on the floor beside me. I turned to the first page of the book and read the first few words. Was I seriously reading a book in a bookstore? I hadn’t picked one up in literal decades. I guess I did judge books by the cover.

I got lost in the book, genuinely enjoying how the main characters felt so realistic and relatable. Honestly, all three of them were downright adorable.

“Oh, whoa.”

The voice startled me, making me drop the book on the floor. When I looked up, I damn near lost it. “Forrest? What the hell are you doing here?”

He blinked at me for a second, his mouth opening and shutting a couple of times before he finally spoke. “Uh, I own that.”

I looked down at the book on the floor, leaning to pick it up. “This book?”

“No, no. Well, kind of? Sorry. I own this store. I don’t know why I said that.”

I hadn’t seen him this flustered before. His cheeks were going pink, and his dark eyes had gone wide as he looked down at me. And he was wearing glasses—which was honestly the hottest fucking thing I’d seen from him yet. I narrowed my eyes at him, a bit confused. “You own this store?”

“I do. Opened a couple years ago.”

“Wow.”

“What?”

I shook my head, shifting on the beanbag. “I never took you for a bookstore kind of guy.”

He walked around, plopping onto the beanbag beside me. “I read a lot. I always have. This is kind of my dream.”

At least he got to follow his dream. I wondered how fulfilling that must’ve felt. “Opening a queer bookstore, or opening a bookstore in general?”

He sounded a lot quieter, his tone much less confident than I was used to. Was I making him nervous? He pushed his glasses up his nose, looking up at the bookshelf in front of us. “At first, it was to be a librarian. But… Do you know how difficult it was for me to find books like these? I mean, all the movies with gay couples when I was growing up ended in tragedies. A lot of books followed the same theme.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t find any good love stories with characters like me. Not easily, anyway. Now, I know where to look, but I don’t see enough of them in bookstores or libraries. I wanted an entire store dedicated to books with queer characters or books written by queer authors. So, I made one. And I focus a lot on BIPOC representation and authors as well, because that was another thing I could never find.”

I’d never paid much attention when I was younger, seeing as I was more interested in swimming than watching movies or reading books. I’d train and compete, train and compete, never deviating from my strict regimen. I barely even hung out with anyone outside of practice.

I always knew I wasn’t like other kids. Maybe I was too obsessive, or maybe I just didn’t care enough about anything else in my life. I didn’t know, and I never would because now, there was something else different about me. Something wrong with me.