Page 7 of Heavensent & Hellbent

The diner almost made me forget about how particularly blinding the sun was. Pulling myself together, I opened Google Maps and began my journey home. As I walked, I started to recall the past twelve hours. There was a reasonable explanation for most things. The boy was someone I had seen before. The bruises on my wrist…I probably squeezed them in my sleep due to the anxiety of the nightmares, of the move in general. I convinced myself of this as I continued walking down the street, pausing at a bookshop called To the Lighthouse. In the window was a book that had come out in the US but not yet in the UK. I checked my phone, and while I really should have headed back before Dad spiraled, I found myself going inside.

A bell jingled above as I entered. The store had that fresh book smell that I loved—and I immediately felt more at ease. The shop was pleasantly air-conditioned, the decor modern. The shelves were painted different rainbow colors. It didn’t quite resemble the secondhand bookshop I worked in back in Hull, with the dark bookcases and musty book smell, but I kind of preferred the openness of this space. At the back of the store was a small arch with a sign sayingChildren’s Books, which led into another room. To the right was another archway connecting to a small coffee shop.

And on a table in the middle of the room was a stack of the book I wanted. I made a beeline for it. The cover was different from the UK version, with a more detailed illustration of the characters on the front. The book was the latest from an Irish author who wrote heartbreaking love stories. Each one had me sobbing by the end. Even though I had never had a relationship before, I loved the idea of love. Of love that ran deep, despite the couple not being able to express their feelings or overcome their obstacles to be together. It was like catnip to me, speaking to a part of my soul about a longing that I had never experienced but still somehow related to. I went straight to the cash register, book in hand.

By the counter, there was a sign that said:

SUMMER BOOKSELLER WANTED

The cashier noticed me eyeing it. She seemed around my age, white with peach-colored hair and silver circular glasses. On each hand was a silver ring, one of them a skull.

“You’re hiring?” I asked.

“A lot of the college kids have gone back home,” she explained, in that same accent as Penny. “So we’re looking for a temp to cover their shifts over the summer. Are you interested?”

I hadn’t considered settling into anything in Denver, but some extra money for university would really help. Either for London, which would be expensive to live in anyway, or if I ended up in Brighton so I could still travel over the weekends to hang out with Nic, wherever she ended up. The possibility of being able to save, like I had planned to do in Hull, could put my summer plans back on track.

“I’m here for the next six weeks, so possibly…Do I need to send you a CV or something?”

She tilted her head to the side. “CV? Are you British?”

My cheeks went hot. I had a newfound understanding of how my parents felt when moving to England from Iran.

“Résumé?” I corrected myself. “And yeah, my family and I moved over here from the UK yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” The girl made a clucking sound. “Fresh off the plane.”

“Yep.”

“Do you have any experience in bookselling?”

“I worked at a bookshop back home for a year.” It was how I bought the clothes I wanted without asking my dad for money.

She nodded encouragingly. “Hold on a sec.” The girl turned to go to the back room but paused halfway. “I’m Cleo, by the way.”

“Roxana, though people call me Roxy.”

“I like Roxana,” she said with a smile. She left and came back moments later with an older woman. “This is the owner, and also my mom.”

The older woman had red curly hair that was unruly in a pleasing way. She had a pencil behind her ear, her cheeks pink. “Thanks for the intro, Cleo.” She gave me a warm smile. “I’m Annie Harney, and as my daughter said I’m the owner of To the Lighthouse. Cleo said you have experience bookselling—would you be willing to do a trial shift tomorrow? We’re looking for someone ASAP.”

This was all happening very quickly and very easily. Nicalways told me that if things were meant to be they would be simple. This wisdom was no doubt sourced from TikTok, but still, I took the ease as a sign.

“Yes, sure!” I exclaimed, trying to keep my enthusiasm in check. I was always like this around adults, overeager. That and having a job would also be the perfect distraction; it would get me out of my head and, more importantly, make sure I couldn’t dwell on my strange dreams.

She shot me another smile, clasping her hands together. “Wonderful. See you tomorrow at one?”

I gave her my contact details and exited, with my new book in hand and a trial for a job. Seeing the blond-haired boy in real life felt like a distant memory.

Dad accosted me before I even managed to take my shoes off in the foyer. “There she is!” he exclaimed. “I’ve been calling you. Where have you been?”

“You have?” I asked, my voice far away. I retrieved my phone from my bag. I hadn’t noticed his missed calls. “I was just at the diner Penny mentioned.”

“Why didn’t you answer your phone? You’ve been gone for hours—can you imagine how worried I was?”

I sighed then shrugged my bag off my shoulder and placed my new plant on the floor before stepping farther into the hallway. I leaned my back against the stair’s banister. “My phone was in my bag. I didn’t see it.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I have too much going on right now to deal with you being like this, Roxana. If you do something like this again, you’re grounded.”