My muscles tighten. I never wanted to make Georgia feel guilty when none of it was her fault, so I’ve always told her it was my decision to leave college. And that I’ve never regretted it.

Georgia returns to her paper, and my mind drifts back to my conversation with RJ about this very thing. It’s like he helped me revise the story I’ve had in my mind all these years. My version isn’t gone, but he’s written in some edits, crossed out some lines, added an asterisk.

You showed strength and resilience in the face of adversity.

But if we met in real life, I’d know that he knows the most secret, shameful parts of my past. It was hard enough to share that under the cover of anonymity; I’m not sure I can handle that level of vulnerability in person.

Still, I hate the thought of hurting his feelings, so I type a follow-up message.

BookshopGirl: Hi again. Just want to say that the last thing I want is to stop chatting with you here. But I’m going through some complicated stuff and I need the rest of my life to stay as uncomplicated as possible. Is it OK if we keep things the way they are?

It’s a cop-out, but it’s all I can do right now.

“Question,” I say to Georgia, wanting something else to focus on. “Could you cover for me when I go to IBNE? It’s the last weekend in August, and it’s in Boston this year.”

The Independent Booksellers of New England conference is one of my favorite events of the year—a chance to mingle with colleagues, meet publishers, and learn more about industry trends. I submitted an application to be on a panel—I’ve applied for the past three years but haven’t ever made it. It’s a huge honor to be chosen, and another one of my life goals.

“You mean I-BONE?” Georgia says, grinning. “Sure. Happy to.”

I roll my eyes, smiling. “I won’t be boning anyone, sorry.”

Although it’s true a significant amount of hooking up does happen—hence the nickname. Bring a bunch of socially awkward book nerds together, add free books and a bar, and sparks fly.

“Why not?” Georgia says. “You deserve a hot one-night stand with a brawny bibliophile.”

Laughing, I shake my head, but my brain takes this opportunity to remind me of something: Ryan will probably be at IBNE.

Not that we’ll be boning. Not that I even want to bone him (my inconvenient attraction to him notwithstanding). But after he helped save my books the other day, I thought we had a moment, a breakthrough; that maybe we could set down our weapons and figure out how to be civil to each other.

Except he reacted so bizarrely to seeing I was reading The Princess Bride.