Chapter Text
For the third night in a row, Dean, standing in front of his hot stove, delicately stirring his pot of boiling pasta with his plastic spatula, was determined to not ruin his dinner.
A struggle, one might add, that had nothing to do with his cooking skills, but everything to do with his poor attention span.
Multitasking didn’t used to be a problem. And for the most part, it still wasn’t.
But it became undeniable, over the past couple of weeks, that his growing interest—or obsession—with audiobooks was becoming somewhat troublesome.
So far, nothing truly awful had happened. He knew, however, that, if he didn’t get a grip pretty soon, the situation would eventually take a turn for the worse. His constant spacing out in public, like at the coffee shop or grocery store, was one thing.
Finding himself in potentially dangerous situation, such as almost missing a red light or flat-out burning his bacon, was another.
Which was why, on this very night, he had opted to pause his book while cooking to avoid being easily distracted.
But doing so, even if for barely twenty minutes, felt incredibly enough like torture.
Yes, torture.
All these precious extra minutes that he could have been listening to his story, relishing the sumptuous voice, spent instead in silence was…nothing but a waste of time to Dean.
If Sam had been present, at least, he could have talked to him, thus offering him an opportunity to avoid hyper-fixating on this new obsession of his.
Against all odds, seemingly to him, he nonetheless managed to cook his meal without any hitch for the first time in weeks, despite having eyed his phone about twelve thousand times.
With the clear intention to continue listening to his book before meeting Charlie online, he eagerly installed himself with his meal at the small kitchen table, where his open laptop was sitting on top of a couple of Sam’s old textbooks.
But after a quick look at the clock, he let out a groan and opted to delay his reading session once more.
As he waited for his friend’s arrival, he began eating his spaghetti, while watching a semi-interesting YouTube video about an auto shop—desperately attempting to ignore how little invested he was and how all of his thoughts kept circling back to his story that he wanted to return to—until he let out a sigh of relief when Charlie’s FaceTime notification popped up on the screen, kindly putting him out of his misery.
“Hey! You made it!” he told her, after she appeared on the screen.
Dressed in her comfy pajamas, she happily waved at him with a bright smile on her face.
“Hi, back! I did! It was touch and go for a sec, but I made it! I’m so happy to see you!”
“Same! I know it’s already late on your end. Are you sure you’re still good?”
“Yup,” she assured him. “I got a good hour before it’s time for me to go to bed. And I really didn’t want to ask for a rain check again. Next week is gonna be nuts at work and, as you know, I’ll be gone all weekend starting tomorrow night right after work. I have no idea how much time I’ll be able to have to myself.”
Charlie, who was currently living in the UK, was on her way to a fun convention with a bunch of new friends she had made over the past year over there.
Considering how she had been overworked since starting her new job, Dean had been very glad that she was still taking the time to do something fun and spending quality time with some friends.
Even if he wasn’t the friend in question and he missed her terribly.
“You better send me a million pics of the whole thing.”
In a playful tone, she answered, “Your wish is my command, my lord.”
“Good. Thanks.”
“And besides that?” she asked, after laughing. “How are you? How are things going? Oh, have you checked out some of the books I had recommended?”
“A few, yes. I—I haven’t gotten very far though.”
He had read the whole list. All fifteen of them. And then some.
“Cool. But it’s going great? I know reading isn’t your favourite thing.”
“It’s okay. I—um, I’m warming up to it.”
“That’s awesome, Dean! I can’t wait to hear how you feel about them. And what about Sam? How is he?” she asked, wrapping herself with a thick blanket. “Still the same? He keeps his updates pretty short. Even shorter than yours.”
“Don’t take it personally. He’s not in a super chatty mood these days.”
“But…he’s okay, right? Better?”
“I think so. Maybe it’s difficult to tell from my end, but I think he’s doing miles better than when I got here.” Then, thinking about it, he added, “He could slow down with the epic workouts though. But considering everything else he could be doing to cope, I guess I shouldn’t complain.”
Sam had hit a bit of a rough patch right at the beginning of the new year. He’d had a falling out with his friend and roommate, Brady, and had ended things with his girlfriend Madison. The relationship had been in its very early stages, but it seemed that Sam had still been wounded by the way things had turned out.
And, of course, the disastrous holidays right after all this hadn't helped the situation at all. Quite frankly, the end of the year had left a relatively sour taste in Dean’s mouth as well.
Which was why, when Sam had admitted to Dean that he wasn’t having the best time in early January, to the point that he was even contemplating packing up his stuff and returning to Lawrence, Dean took the matter seriously. He immediately offered his help by suggesting moving in with him.
In Chicago.
“You hate big cities. Driving here is gonna make you go crazy,” Sam had told him.
“As long as I can bring Baby with me, I ain’t got a problem.”
“You—you really would be okay coming to live here? But what about Bobby? What about Samuel?”
While these had been important questions, the only thing Dean had cared about at that moment had been the glimmer of hope he had detected in Sam’s voice at the idea of Dean coming to join him.
With that, his mind had been set. He was going there. And he had been happy to do so.
“Epic workouts? How epic are we talking about here?” asked Charlie.
“He goes to the gym every single day. For a minimum of three hours.”
Charlie squinted. “Are you sure he’s just going to the gym? Maybe that’s only what he’s telling you,” she said with a mischievous smile. “Maybe he made a new friend?”
“Oh, don’t worry. I thought of that too. But as far as I know, he’s really just going to the gym.”
“How can you be sure?”
Dean pursed his lips and looked down.
“Oh my God. You followed him? Dean! You spied on Sam?”
“Well, I wanted to be sure he was okay!” he said defensively. “I was pretty sure he was just, you know, a bit depressed, which isn’t surprising. But I’m not kidding when I say the workouts are intense. It’s basically all he does besides work and sleep. It even got to a point where I felt like a jerk to not, like, go with him, since, like I said, it’s practically all he does. So I started to go with him a few times a week.”
And needless to say, that, of all the activities Dean would have preferred doing to show his support to his brother, working out hadn’t exactly been at the top of his list.
From what he could tell though, Sam had appreciated the gesture.
Dean had been clear that he drew the line at investing into a personal trainer the moment Sam had mentioned it, however.
There were such things called limits.
And while Dean told himself said limits were mostly influenced by his finances—or rather, lack thereof—there were also other reasons at play in that matter.
Reasons he wasn’t in a hurry to share. With Sam or Charlie. Or anyone else.
“That should do you good too, though?” asked Charlie.
“It does,” admitted Dean. Fitness had never been one of his main preoccupations in life. He knew it was important, but to him, working at the garage all day and shovelling the damn snow during winter back in Lawrence had been more than enough to count as exercising. But as he told Charlie, even if he had only started working out for just over a month, he could already see a difference. Not just physically, but emotionally as well.
Then again, Dean suspected that the latter might have more to do with the fact that he had finally left Lawrence.
“That’s good. I’m happy for you! And besides the training and keeping an eye on Sam, what else have you been doing? You—you also haven’t said much about—about anything since you moved.” She paused, and said in a kind tone, “How are you, really?”
Dean’s eyes lowered instantly.
He couldn’t lie to Charlie. She’d read it off his face. Even through a freaking computer screen.
And he didn’t want to lie to his friend, either.
“Dean?”
“Um, it’s…okay. Work is fine.”
“Have they given you more hours?”
“Not yet, no. Still part-time. I gave my name to a few other places in the meantime, but nothing so far.”
“I’m sorry.”
“S’okay. It sucks, but I’m not, like, in trouble yet. I take any extra shift the garage offers. It doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. With that and the money I win playing pool,” he said proudly, to which Charlie rolled her eyes, “I’m okay. Not much else to do anyway, so, you know. I’m taking it easy.”
“That’s totally understandable.” And after a quick shift on her seat, she added, “And what about your social life? Last time we talked, you mentioned making a bit of headway with the people at work. How’s that going?”
“It’s good.”
“…and?”
He sighed. “And it could be better. It’s not bad or anything. I’m just the new guy. Everyone is pretty tight and has been there since forever, so I’m the obvious outsider there. I can’t decide if working part-time is to my advantage or not. On the one hand, I’m not too imposing…”
“…but on the other hand, it doesn’t give you as many opportunities to get to know people,” said Charlie, understanding where he was going.
“Yeah. Like no one is being a jerk, which is really great, but not that many people are making an effort either.”
“But some are? Please,” she pressed on, “tell me some have, though?”
After a short hesitation Dean said, “Well, actually, some of the guys love to go bowling together and one of them invited me to go.”
“That’s not nothing! Is he cute? Not that I want you to create drama at work, but…would you be tempted?”
“He’s married.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. And I’m pretty sure he was just being nice as they were discussing it during lunch yesterday and I was right there.”
“Good manners are nothing to sneeze at,” she argued. “Please, let me know how it goes.”
“If I go, sure.”
“What do you mean if you’ll go? You have to! You were just saying you didn’t have many occasions to interact with them, even at work. This is perfect.”
“I get it, but…bowling?”
“What do you have against bowling?” she asked, laughing.
He shrugged. “Nothing. Just—not the first thing I would have picked to make a good impression.”
She waved a hand at him. “You’ll be fine. Just go. Are you allowed to bring other people, too?”
“I think so. Why?” he asked, fearing the answer.
“I really can’t see how this could go badly, but if you’re worried, bring Sam with you. That way if it’s lame you won’t feel as bad and maybe doing something else will do him good too.”
Dean liked the idea. He wasn’t sure if Sam would go for it, but he planned on running the idea by him at the very least.
Before he could tell Charlie so, he got distracted when his phone began buzzing.
He glimpsed at the screen, just in case it was Sam, asking if he’d needed to grab something at the store on his way back from the gym later tonight, as he tended to do.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t Sam.
The moment Dean read “Mary,” he ignored the call and put his phone away.
“Do you need to get that?”
Dean shook his head and did his best to give Charlie a confident smile through the screen.
One look at her, however, and he could tell she knew exactly who the caller was. And he was extremely grateful that she didn’t question him about it.
Instead, she said, “So bowling, gym with Sam…anything else planned besides that? What else do you do? Have you made any new friends? Of the masculine variety? Or not, I mean, that’s totally not a requirement, of course. But met anyone dreamy? Perhaps?”
Making a fake-annoyed face, he said, “That was super smooth by the way.”
“Thank you. And answer the question.”
“I think I’ve answered enough questions for tonight. Actually, that’s all I’ve done so far. I think it’s your turn: So, what’s the thing you’re looking forward to the most this weekend? What about Dorothy? That’s her name, right?”
“Nice try, Dean, but no. We’re not changing the subject. First, you already know all these answers because—and I say that with absolute kindness here—unlike some people, my text replies are anything but vague.”
Dean thought this was the perfect time to take another bite of his now cold spaghetti.
“Second,” she continued, “why don’t you want to tell me? Is it really that bad?”
“It’s…not great.”
“Okay. That’s okay. I mean, that’s not what I want for you, but it’s okay to say this. In case it needs to be said, this, you and me, it’s a safe place,” she said, gesturing to the both of them.
“I know. Thanks for saying it, but I know. That’s not the problem.”
“Then, what is it?”
Dean’s sole answer was to plant his fork in his bowl.
“What happened?” she asked him. “You were so looking forward to the change of scenery when you told me you were moving. Getting away from Samuel was probably a big incentive, so was being with Sam again, but I know you also saw leaving Lawrence as a good opportunity to change things up. Meet new people and all.”
Everything she had said was true. And while Dean had foreseen that some things wouldn’t go as smoothly as he hoped, the parts that he had believed would have been easier to accomplish turned out to be the ones to have been the hardest. And vice versa.
“Look,” he finally said, after clearing his throat, “I—I guess it’s taking me a little longer to adjust to the city life, especially the dating part of it, than I thought it would. I don’t regret the move. Far from it. I’m really glad I’m here. Even if stuff could be a bit better with work and all, I’m fine with that. I just—I’m not sure why, but I’m, like, not super motivated right now on that front.”
“Is this about what we discussed around Christmas?”
Dammit, thought Dean. Mildly annoyed that she saw right through him.
“Not all of it, no.”
“But it’s part of it?”
“Um. Kinda.”
“Okay. Wanna elaborate a little bit more on that, there?”
Knowing that he should not abuse his friend’s good nature and her out-of-this-world patience, he resolved himself to volunteer more on the subject.
Even if he really didn’t want to.
And even if he would still keep certain details to himself.
He took a deep breath and pushed his half-eaten bowl of pasta aside. And after shifting on his seat to delay his answer a little bit longer, he finally said, “Things are not super great. It’s been slow. On the dating front, I mean.”
“With guys.”
“Yeah. When we talked about it at Christmas, for some reason, I—I really thought my main problem with that—dating as a whole, by the way, not just with guys—was because of where I was. I’ve lived in Lawrence my whole life and I don’t know, maybe it’s all in my head, but I felt like over the past few years, the dating pool was getting smaller and smaller. And as much as there’s plenty of people that I love there…there’s also plenty of asshats that I’d rather never see again, too.”
“That is a very fair assessment that I can personally confirm.”
“So, when Sammy told me he was having a rough time on his own and the possibility of me getting out of Lawrence became real, I was sure that was the answer to, um, that problem. That I would come here and that whatever was holding me back or not working for me there wouldn’t be an issue any more. A city full of people I’ve never met. Who haven’t known me since the awkward teenage years or don’t bring up super embarrassing stuff that happened in the third grade.”
“What happened in the third grade?” she asked, intrigued.
“The point is,” he said, ignoring her question, “the second the thought of coming here crossed my mind, it felt liberating. And that’s why I thought that getting back in the game would be easy as soon as I’d arrived here.”
“And it hasn’t. I’m gathering.”
Dean shook his head. “It’s not atrocious. It’s not like nothing has happened. If I’m being honest, um, a lot has happened...but it—it’s not how I’d like it to happen.”
“Meaning what?”
“You really gonna make me say it?” he said, almost grunting.
“Yes, because I’m honestly a bit lost. What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that I suck, okay?” He let out a big sigh of frustration. “I—I’m dating. I’m going out. And I’m, you know, dating…but I haven’t made that much progress on my issue that we talked about at Christmas. In fact, I’m embarrassed by how little progress I’ve made.”
“So, if I’m decoding all of this correctly, you’re saying that you’re still having better luck with the ladies than the dudes and that it’s bothering you.”
Dean couldn’t help making a face at the word “dude.”
But that wasn’t his sole issue with her last comment. While what Charlie had alluded to wasn’t wrong, it wasn’t the exact truth, either.
Something that Charlie wasn’t aware of.
And since Dean wasn’t ready to clarify this detail, he simply answered, “More or less, yeah,” hoping that would be enough and the matter let go.
Thankfully for him, it partly worked.
“Dean,” she said in a kind tone, “you’re being way too harsh on yourself. Regardless of who it is, are you having fun?”
“Yeah,” he admitted.
“Are they being nice to you?”
“Very.”
“Are you being nice to them?”
“Of course.”
“And are you still interested in both men and women? I know you are,” she added quickly, “but just in case, you know.”
“The answer is yes,” he said, laughing shortly.
“Then, since I know hiding isn’t your style, I really don’t see why you’re tormenting yourself over this.”
“I’m not tormented,” he said, trying to convince himself as much as her. “I’m just annoyed that I’m crap at it.”
She took a moment to reflect on his last comment. “Can I ask a serious question?”
“What?”
“Is there a reason behind this sort of blockage about all of this? Because I know dating guys isn’t new to you at all—not saying there’s a time limit or some nonsense like that—but I—I gotta admit that I was a bit surprised when you told me you were struggling. I just don’t understand why, out of the blue, you’d be hit with a strong lack of confidence in that department. In all the years I’ve known you, you’ve never had trouble there. Did something happen or someone say something or—”
“No, nothing like that,” said Dean, cutting her off.
“Then, what is it? Why do you think it’s an issue now?”
And for the second time that night, he was given an opportunity to open up about his struggle.
The one Dean didn’t want to utter out loud. Out of fear and embarrassment.
The fact was that this issue wasn’t a recent problem.
It was a problem he’d always had.
And as far as he knew, it was something that no one had picked up on.
Pursuing guys had never been his strong suit despite always having been openly into them. In other words, he had nearly no experience doing so.
But due to a few sightings of shared kisses (and nothing more) here and there back in high school, and the very generous rumor mill back in Lawrence, given that Dean was known for being casual and his suave, charming personality, it seemed that overnight everyone firmly believed that Dean was quite the conqueror and had had his fair share male lovers.
When it was the complete opposite.
In his early twenties, he didn’t really care about that detail—he even thought it was funny—as all that mattered to him was the good times. And just as Charlie had mentioned, as long as everyone involved was happy and on board, who cared? There was no reason to keep a tally to prove anything. He knew who he was and who he liked and that was more than enough for him.
But as the years passed by, and Dean was now on the other end of his twenties, with still nothing to show for in that department, it started to weigh on him.
He even felt like a fraud in low moments. He knew it was ridiculous, and yet, he thought it many times.
And the moment he decided that he should rectify this matter, that was when the real problems began.
He overthought everything. Just talking to guys, never mind actively flirting, became a hassle. The more he tried, the more impossible that simple task turned out to be.
Which had been why he had mentioned his problem to Charlie in December. But only partly.
He had kept the part about his complete lack of experience and inaptitude to himself and had simply mentioned that he was having a bit of a dry spell at the time.
He hadn’t wanted to lie, but he felt embarrassed by it. Incredibly so, in fact.
Charlie, of course, had been kind and supportive, and had encouraged him to take it easy on himself. Dry spells were normal and taking things slow, or taking a break altogether was not a bad thing she had told him.
And although he agreed with her, he also knew that there was more to the story than this. And hoping to receive advice from someone who only knew half of the scoop was probably unfair of him.
It definitely wasn’t helping to solve his problem at that moment anyway.
And yet, Dean, staring at his screen, chose to remain silent on the matter.
“I don’t know. Maybe I need to rethink the whole dating scene. Maybe I’m not really into it right now and that’s why I’m struggling so much with it.”
He wasn’t proud of his lie. He knew that wasn’t the issue. However, there had been some truth in there as well.
He doubted that was the root of the problem though.
And for reassurance, he added, “Must be the reading assignment you gave me. All these romance novels are getting to my head.”
She rolled her eyes at him.
“Ha-ha. As you know full well, I gave you these recs because you said you were having a bit of difficulty lately, so I can’t really see how it created the problem in the first place. It hasn’t made things worse though, right? It wasn’t meant to confuse you or make you overthink everything. I just wanted you to, you know, have fun again. Hopefully see things on the lighter side.”
“And bring romance into my heart?”
“Shut up,” she said, laughing with him.
“You know I was just kidding earlier. And I am enjoying the books.”
“Good.”
Hit with a second wave of guilt about his previous omission concerning his dating problems—as well as the fact that he had read her entire reading list—Dean decided that he should at least share something with Charlie.
Another secret that he was a tad embarrassed about. Though not nearly as much as the other one.
“If you promise not to laugh at me, can I tell you something?”
“Of course.”
“It’s about the books. Well, sort of.”
“Okay. What is it?”
“So…I might have read more than I hinted at earlier.”
“Uh-huh. Interesting.”
“And I got wind that there’s a book club in the building and I’m kinda thinking of joining. Please, don’t laugh.”
“OH! Do you mean the spicy book club on Thursdays or something?” she asked, with great excitement.
“Wait, you know about it?”
“Sam mentioned it before.”
Dean blinked. That was new information to him.
“Sam is in the book club?”
“Um, I don’t think he’s a regular. It’s been a while since he mentioned it, although I could say the same about nearly everything these days, but I know he went to a few meetings last year. He never said?”
Dean shook his head.
“Okay, well maybe he needed a break. But Dean! That’s great! And that’s tonight! Are you—what time is it at your place? Are you going to be late?”
“I still have over an hour. If I go.”
Charlie squinted at him.
“You don’t think it’s lame?” he asked her.
“I really don’t. Do you?”
“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but no. I don’t either. I saw the flyer on the bulletin board in the laundry room a couple of weeks ago and I was legit mad I had missed the monthly meeting. It’s not every Thursday by the way. It’s the first Thursday of the month. Anyway, I kinda really wanna go even though I don’t know anyone.”
“Did they ask to contact them first?”
“No. They left an email and number for questions and stuff. But no, it’s, like, open to anyone who’s interested and lives in the building. And anyone who’s of age, of course.”
“Dean, please go! That and bowling. Just try it. If you don’t like it, then you’ll know and you can move on to the next thing. But I really think this would be a good idea for you. You’ll get to know more people, which is what you wanted.”
“Not exactly the setting I was thinking of though. And don’t hate me for saying it, but I have a feeling like most people there will be women who are…moms.”
“Okay, first off, you just said you want to go and you’re not a woman or a mom. Second, Sam went, also not a woman or a mom. Third, if I remember correctly, he said the group was pretty diverse. And finally, the only way to find out is to go. What about the book? Do you know if you’ve read it?”
“I did. It was one of your suggestions.”
“Perfect!”
And for the next twenty minutes, they moved on to lighter things, including Dean’s favourite spots in the new city to eat so far (a burger joint ten minutes from the garage) and what Charlie was most excited about for her upcoming weekend (meeting up with one of her favourite fan art artists), until it was time for them to say good night.
And Dean promised to keep better updates.
And to attend the book club meeting.
Which he did.
At nearly seven o’clock on the dot, he made his way to apartment 501, one floor above his. At first glance, the place was relatively inviting. It smelled good, almost like cookies, it was clean, and filled with bright colors.
It was a cute apartment, where he found a small group of people already sitting comfortably and laughing together.
Dean hated being put on the spot, and the fact that everybody present clearly knew each other, instantly turned him into the center of attention.
“Hi, I’m Becky. Welcome! This is my place. I’m the host tonight. Come in! It’s always fun when new people join in! What’s your name?”
The room was now silent.
“Um, my name is Dean.”
“Hi, Dean!” said everyone.
“Wait,” said Becky. “Dean? As in Dean Winchester? Are you Sam’s brother?”
If he had wanted proof that Sam had taken part in the club, he apparently didn’t need to look further.
“Um, yeah. That’s me.”
Becky was studying him for a second.
“Is that bad?” he asked, quite confused at her expression.
“Huh? Oh, no. It’s just—you’re really not how I pictured.”
Unsure what to make of that, Dean simply nodded awkwardly and took the nearest seat once Becky signalled him to come in.
“Before we dive into the book discussion, should we take a moment and get to know our newcomer while we wait for people who might be running a bit late?” asked a blonde girl who was seated next to Becky.
Dean’s entire body became tense.
“From the looks of it, the only ones missing are Donna and Garth,” said a woman with dark, short hair, helping herself to a glass of wine. “I don’t know about Garth, but I know Donna won’t make it. She’s on patrol tonight. She’s been trying to get out of it all day.”
“And Garth already told me earlier this week that he wouldn’t be able to come,” said Becky. “He had a family emergency and had to go to Wisconsin.”
“What? Man, this sucks,” said the woman with dark hair. “The main book of this month was his pick!”
“I know. He was so looking forward to it.”
“And it was awesome too. Vampire and werewolf monster romance? Go Garth.”
Dean fully agreed on that take.
“Then, since we know nobody else is coming—unless we’re being blessed by another newcomer, let’s take a moment to do a round of introductions, and you can tell us a bit about yourself, Dean. Does that sound okay?”
Everyone nodded and happily greeted Dean one by one. First, the blonde next to Becky was Harper, who was the co-creator of the book club with Becky. Next to her was a young, good-looking guy named Max and his also good-looking twin sister Alicia. Then was the woman with the dark hair, who was named Jody, and another guy, probably closer to Dean’s age than Max’s. His name was Aaron. And finally, seated right next to Dean were two older ladies, in a very good mood, named Missouri and Linda.
“And what about you, Dean? Can you tell us a bit about yourself?”
“What made you want to join?”
“What’s your favourite book?”
“How many books do you read a month? A year? Which format are you more prone to?”
“Sweet Jesus, Harper. The boy just got here! Slow down or you’ll scare him half to death,” said Missouri, laughing. “Don’t make him leave.”
Grateful for Missouri’s interruption, Dean nevertheless felt at a disadvantage. Finding himself in the middle of what he could only interpret as a group of well-read people was a bit too much for him and momentarily made him believe that he had made a mistake coming here.
“Don’t mind her, honey. She’s a bit intense sometimes. Which is part of her charm, no question there,” Missouri added, once she noticed Harper frown at her. “Don’t overthink it, just tell us whatever you feel comfortable to. I promise we’re harmless.” And then, after a pause and a clear look at Harper, she added, “For the most part, anyway.”
And a few laughs filled the room.
“Um, I don’t really know what to say. As this is my first time participating in one of these.”
“That’s all right,” said Linda. “We all started somewhere.”
“Honoured you could join us,” added Jody.
“Thanks.” Trying to remember the previous questions, he then said, “I saw the advertisement in the laundry room. That’s how I learned about the book club. Thought it sounded cool. And I had just read the book, so…thought I’d give it a try.”
Sitting at the very edge of her seat, Harper asked, “How did you find it? The book?”
But before Dean could answer, Max reminded her that they were keeping the reading discussion for later.
“Oh right. Sorry.”
“S’alright. Um, I—I don’t really know what else to say. I’m Sam’s brother for those of you who know him. I moved in not that long ago from Lawrence. I’m a mechanic. And that’s pretty much it.”
“And what about your preferred format,” Harper asked again, slowly this time.
Apparently, Dean’s confusion at her question was evident on his face, as Becky offered, “She means do you prefer a physical copy or the digital one of a book.”
“There’s no wrong answer,” Jody pressed on. “We just have a weird tally about it here.”
“Oh. Um, I don’t really care. But honestly, of late, I—I’ve been kinda big on audiobooks. Does that count?”
A loud cheer was heard in the room.
“Another one for the win,” said Alicia as she high fived her brother, while Harper sank in her seat.
“Honey, I think you’re gonna be happy here,” said Missouri.
“We loooove audiobooks,” said Becky. “We read anything, audiobooks or not, but like you, we’ve grown to really appreciate them recently.”
“Some of us more than others,” said Linda, trying not to laugh.
“Harper is a bit of a purist,” explained Becky. “Which is fine, of course. I still devour tons of physical books. But if done right, I think audiobooks are super underrated.”
A genuine agreement circulated around the room.
“All right, thank you, Dean. And welcome again. We’re all very happy you’re here. I hope you enjoy this. We’ll give you more info about the rules to submit suggestions for our next read and stuff later, but in the meantime, I think it’s time to get into the discussion. Who wants to go first?”
Jody lifted her hand. “I want—need—to talk about chapter seven. When they had that dumb confrontation, and he was legit planning to end him right there and there, and the whole thing just randomly turned into the most smutty, sweaty and bloody make-out session, I just about lost my mind. I don’t care how absolutely ridiculous it sounded, it lived rent-free in my head for days.”
As he listened to everyone else chipping in on the spicy details, Dean didn’t know if he was more horrified by what he was hearing or by the fact that he could feel his cheeks flush at the very thought of the passage Jody was referring to.
Because, like her, he had had a fixation on that particular part of the book.
He had even listened to it multiple times.
Though he wasn’t really inclined to share that detail here.
Not yet, at least.
First, he’d try to survive his first meeting. And given how intense and detailed some of the discussion turned out to be, Dean had his doubts if he would make a point of coming back.
Little did he know that he would find himself immensely looking forward to the next meeting by the very next day.
Before work in the early afternoon, he happily went to an independent bookstore, one of the many praised by the members of the club, eager to get started on the club’s next book selection.
Dean had never heard of the title, unsurprisingly to him. The book in question was a bit disappointing for two reasons. One, while an audiobook of the novel existed, CJ Novak wasn’t its narrator—which wasn’t a shocking revelation as the guy, as amazing as he was, was evidently not the only narrator around—and two, said audiobook wasn’t part of the library database, either.
Which was a problem for Dean.
He had looked into buying audiobooks before, especially once his fascination for his favourite narrator became a thing, but they were extremely expensive. Too expensive for him.
He had made a note that they could be amazing birthday presents for next year, and in the meantime, he was grateful that the library held almost the entire collection of Novak’s works.
As for the club’s pick, he would have to resort to reading it in the good old fashion way and imagine CJ’s voice in his mind.
Hence, the bookstore.
He felt almost guilty not having invited Sam to go along with him, as he was sure his brother would have enjoyed a trip to the bookstore.
But for the same reason he hadn’t mentioned the book club to him, nor his recent reading habits and tastes, he had abstained for now out of fear of criticism.
And perhaps the thought of being subjected to heavy mockery.
He doubted Sam would have done so, as he tended to be the more reasonable of two, but to spare himself that possibility, Dean had decided against it.
In the cozy bookstore, which had bright yellow and pink shelves, and at first glance, consisted mostly of a romance selection (hence the members’ high praise), Dean found the book he was looking for quickly, even picked a couple more that had been recommended the night before, and took his time to browse through the shelves.
A pleasure he had never had the occasion to exercise.
He tried his best to not feel exposed, as he heard two teenagers giggle at the end of the row, and was instantly hit with middle school trauma, convinced for some reason that they were laughing at him.
Knowing he was being ridiculous, he nevertheless changed aisles, wanting to explore the titles in peace.
And away from prying eyes.
Soon enough, after he had managed to collect a small, yet relatively decent, pile of books, which would have made both Sam and Charlie proud, Dean, as he was sampling a second-chance western romance, paused his reading once more when he grew distracted, overhearing someone who was most likely talking on the phone nearby.
“I’m looking, I’m looking. Hold on. I think they changed stuff around since I last came here, so I’m a bit confused about where everything is.”
Keeping still, Dean lifted his nose from his book and continued listening.
“Oh yeah? Need I remind you that I’m here doing you a favour right now? Doing your errand for your girlfriend wasn’t why I came here today,” said someone.
Someone with a very deep voice.
Suave.
Commanding, yet gentle.
And incredibly sexy.
“Hmm. That’s what I thought. I always believed that a little appreciation could go a long way. Yes, thank you.” He then paused and let out a sigh. “You’re relentless, you know that, Gabe? Yes, you are.”
Half thinking that he had now officially lost his mind, Dean was sure that he was hearing the voice of CJ Novak.
In real life. Right here in this freaking bookstore.
“And you were doing so well for a hot second,” Dean heard him say. “Here. I found it. Yes. The last copy on the shelf and everything.” There was a long pause. “No, I’m not sending you visual evidence. You’re going to have to believe me. Now, while I’m here, I’ll go ask them if they don’t mind adding the advertisement to their community board up front, and then, I’ll do some browsing for a bit. I’ll see you tonight.” Another sigh. “No, I’m not bringing anyone, Gabe. Will you stop. Because I don’t want to. Since when do I ever go to these things with—that’s Michael’s problem. Yeah, I said it and you can quote me.” There was another short pause, before he added quickly, “Don’t actually, because we’ll never hear the end of it and life is too short for that.”
By then, Dean had abandoned his spot and desperately tried to find him. Shivers down his neck was more than enough of an incentive for doing so.
Due to the labyrinthian layout of the shelves on that side of the store, it took Dean a moment to situate himself. After a few wrong turns, still tending the ear, he finally accessed the right aisle and set his eyes on him.
A man with dark hair—correction: dark, sexy bed hair—wearing a trench coat à la Columbo, was leaning on one of the shelves, phone glued to his ear, and book in the other hand.
And holy mother of God.
Dean nearly dropped his pile of books on the floor.
This couldn’t be him.
Someone with such a seductive, intoxicative voice didn’t have the right to be that good-looking.
It wasn’t fair.
Just as he was debating what to do, what to say, if he should say anything at all to this specimen, the narrator turned his gaze on Dean.
Piercing blue eyes.
Staring straight at him.
And a mixture of excitement and panic spread through Dean’s whole being.
Feeling as though he had been discovered, and sure that he could in no way hide his probably very awkward obsession about the guy, Dean’s panic won over, causing him to back away quickly.
Unfortunately, that was when he ran directly into a tower of books, hit his head on something hard and fell flat on the floor.