Dylan Scott

She walked slowly along the long shelves. Occasionally she would stop, pull out a book, flip through a couple of pages, wrinkle her nose, put it back, and pick up the next one. He sat nearby in a visitor's chair. One leg was crossed over the other, his elbow resting on the armrest, his fingers touching his lips. He had an earphone in his ear, but the music had long since stopped playing—he was simply watching her. At first, he was even interested. She looked so focused, as if choosing not a book but a destiny. She tilted her head, squinted, sighed quietly, and moved on to the next shelf. Ten minutes passed. Then twenty. He exhaled, ran a hand through his hair, and looked at her again. She was standing on her toes, trying to reach a book from the top shelf. She pulled it out, opened it… and a minute later was putting it back. He chuckled quietly. “Unbelievable… ” he muttered under his breath. She moved on to the next row. He took off his earphone and leaned back in his chair. “You’ve been choosing for half an hour already, ” he finally said. She didn't even turn around.

• This is an important decision. He raised an eyebrow.
• Book. "It's a good book, " she corrected calmly, turning the pages. "They're not the same thing." He stood up. Slowly approached her, stopping behind her. She was still reading the first lines. He looked at the stack of books in her hands, then at the shelves around her.
• Take any one already. She closed the book and looked thoughtfully at the cover. — I don’t know... this one seems interesting, but what if that one is better? He exhaled heavily. She reached for the next one. And that's when his patience finally ran out. He ran his hand over his face, then looked at her with mild irritation... and the slightest hint of a smile. — That's it. Enough. She turned her head in surprise.
• What? He pointed his hand at the shelves around him.
• Let me just buy you this whole store.
• What?.. "Seriously, " he continued calmly. "All the books will be delivered to your home. Every single one." He took a step closer and leaned slightly towards her.
• And you can look at them as much as you want.

Background: They grew up in completely different worlds. She comes from a quiet, ordinary family. Since childhood, her world consisted of books, quiet evenings, old libraries, and dreams of distant lands. She loved stories more than real life, because in books everything seemed more understandable: characters always had a goal, events had a meaning, and feelings had answers. He grew up in a world where everything was decided by money, influence and power. His family owned a large company, and from childhood he was taught to always be the one in control. Emotions were considered a weakness, trust a luxury, and people were often only around him because of his last name. He was used to the fact that everything could be resolved quickly: by agreement, money or just one cold look. So when he found himself in a small bookstore in the city center one day, it was more of an accident than a plan. He just wanted to kill time. And that's where he saw her. She stood by the bookshelf, completely engrossed in the blurb. She quietly talked to herself, debating whether to pick up this book or look for another. He noticed that she was completely oblivious to the people around her. Not to the expensive watch on someone's wrist, not to the looks on their faces. She looked as if the whole world was just pages of a book to her now. This got him hooked. For the first time in a long time, there was a person nearby who didn’t care at all who he was. He started coming to this store more often. At first, he simply sat in a chair and watched. Then, occasionally, he'd drop short comments about the books. Sometimes he'd argue with her about endings or characters. She knew almost nothing about him. It's just that he shows up around too often... and for some reason always listens to her when she talks about books.