He must realize that means yes, because he grins widely. I reach up to poke one of his dimples without thinking. If anything, that only widens his smile. “There’s an independent bookstore across from the ice rink Mia wants to go to. I figured we’d support a local business, but if you want to go to Barnes & Noble, we can do that, too.”

I stare at him in wonder. How strange that his thoughts align with mine. “No, that’s perfect. I love indie bookstores.”

“Great,” Ace says as we exit the staircase, only a few steps away from our English classroom. “It’s a date.”

A date. Why does that make it sound so real? As if asking me to prom wasn’t enough.

“I guess so,” I say, ignoring the way my heartstrings are pulling taut. “We’re studying in your car on the way there. And we have to study tomorrow morning during first period to make up for lost time.”

He laughs. “I’d expect nothing less.”

I smile at him, even as my nerves begin to devour me in preparation for the evening ahead.

22

T-MINUS 19 DAYS

The bookstore is a small two-storied building called Two Stories, which already makes me love it.

Ace opens the door and I step inside, eyes wide as I take in the store. It’s warm and cozy, earth themed. There are tables on the right side designed to look like tree stumps and seats that resemble shrubbery. Rows of bookshelves are lined up in front of me, and a warm yellow light filters in from above, where stars hang from thin metal threads. It reminds me of Ace’s room, and I glance at him surreptitiously.

“My mom loves reading,” he says, seeing the look on my face. “She designed my room before my parents got divorced. This used to be her favorite bookstore before she moved away.”

“It’s pretty,” I say and glance at him. “Do you miss her? Since she’s so far away?”

“I do,” he says, quieter. “But we talk every day if we can. I told her about you.”

“You did?” I blink at him. “What’d you say?”

Ace smiles at me innocuously. “Who knows?”

“You know,” I say, pinching his arm. He laughs, but when it becomes clear he isn’t going to say any more, I sigh. “So how long has this place been around?”

“Since I was a kid,” he says, lightly tugging me around a shelf of books. “The owner’s daughter manages it now. Actually, there she is. Genesis! Hey.”

A beautiful dark-haired woman a few years older than us stops sorting books to look in our direction. When she sees Ace, her expression brightens, and her eyes are curious when they land on me. “Hi, Ace. Who’s your friend?”