As I sat in the cozy café, pulling at the lose hem of my sweater, I heard the sound of laughter from a table across from me. I looked up from my book to meet the eyes of a blonde stranger. The corner of his eyes crinkled as he shot me a small smile, causing me to fluster and send him a similar greeting back before returning my eyes to my book. As I attempted to continue reading, I couldn’t help but realize that I had read over the page without having one recollection as to what it was about. The handsome stranger had taken hold of my thoughts, and my ears stretched in attempt to listen to what he was saying to a group of people, who I presumed was his family. My eyes flickered between the text of my book and his table. A tiny, unconscious smile grew across my face with each glance. I finally shooed the fantasies out of my mind and directed my undivided attention back to my paperback book, so much so that I didn’t notice when the handsome stranger exited his seat and moved to stand across from me.
“I hate to bother you, but I have something important to ask,” he inquired.
I quickly dug my fingernail into the word I had stopped on in my book, as if to mark it to come back to. My eyes slowly rolled up from the text of my book from the sound of his voice.  As our gazes connected, my heart began to flutter. He took a seat on the chair across from me and I gradually laid my book down on the table. I couldn’t help but become entranced in his pure blue eyes before I gathered myself continued the blossoming conversation.
“Oh yeah, and what might that be?”
“Is that book good?” the blonde asked with a sort of flare, as if he already knew the answer.
I quickly looked down at my creased, used book before grinning and replying, “Really good. It’s so fun to analyze the structure in which the author writes because the story isn’t in chronological order. But it’s starting to come in full circle where I’m at, and that’s only about halfway through. It’s also a very enlightening and spiritual book, so it kinda makes you think.”
He stared at me with a small, crooked smile as I rambled on. He probably had only expected a less thoughtful, one-word answer, and I had just given him a mouthful.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ramble,” I said as a shade of pink spread across my cheeks.
“No, don’t apologize! It’s obvious to me that you’re passionate about literature.”
“I really am. I just love how you can become so consumed in a book. I’m one of those types of people who envies others who get to read one of my favorites for the first time.”
He chuckled before replying, “I know exactly what that feels like. I’ve had to avoid one of my friends for a week because they were reading The Shack and it physically pained me to have to hear him explore the possibilities of answers when I already knew what it was.”
I could see a genuine spark ignite in his eyes as he spoke.
“So you like to read too?” I asked, lowering my voice which caused him to lean in closer to me.
“I love to read, for all the same reasons you do. My favorite thing about reading is being smack dab in the middle of a story and letting your mind explore all the opportunities a story can take. So I hate when I finish a book because I know what happens, and I can never read it again.”
I nodded understandingly before responding, “I’m like that with TV shows and movies. I can’t watch something I have already seen unless it’s been a while and I have forgotten how the story unfolds.”
“Exactly,” he said with a nod before his bit the corner of his lip.
After a second of silence, he added, “And since I can’t read the same book twice, I want you to have this.”
I hadn’t noticed that he had been carrying a book with him until he gently pushed it towards me. He handed me a paperback copy of The Glass Castle, and as he did, our fingers slightly brushed each other, sending small sparks of electricity through my veins.
“Oh wow, thank you!” I exclaimed before I noticed a small bookmark marked the first page. On that bookmark were eleven digits and a name scribbled in black ink. His contact information.
“How long does it usually take you to finish a book about that size?” he asked, gesturing to the gift he had just presented me.
“Oh I don’t know, about a week?” I estimated.
“Would you like to meet here next Saturday to discuss it?”
A smile formed across my face as I witnessed a hint of eagerness flash across his eyes.
“Absolutely.”