but there was a very real danger I’d spill my coffee if I did. “I was a Girl Scout. Camping was my favorite. I don’t have a problem with the outdoors.” Why? Why did I say that? I was a Girl Scout, sure. But I’d faked having the flu to get out of going camping, because the idea of sleeping on the ground, where there were bugs . . . I suppressed a shudder. But Simon had challenged me, and if he thought I was going to back down, then he didn’t know a thing about me.
He nodded once. “Good.” A slightly awkward silence stretched between us, and he opened his mouth as though he were going to say something else, but instead turned to Chris.
“I wanted to make sure you had everything I ordered. For the summer reading lists?”
“Oh. Yes.” She moved behind the front counter and woke up her laptop. “I placed the order last Monday, and I got about half of them in yesterday. Should be getting the rest . . .” She tapped a few keys and squinted at the screen. “Looks like tomorrow. So I’ll get the display up by this weekend.” She shrugged. “No one’s asked about them yet, so you should be okay.”
“I’m not surprised.” He shook his head with a rueful smile. “The school year just ended. The last thing these kids are thinking about is next fall.”
“You’ve always got one or two overachievers in your AP classes, though.” She tapped some more keys, bringing up another screen. “Oh, wait. They sent a different edition of Pride and Prejudice than the one you asked for. Let me go get it and make sure it’ll work. I can exchange it if you need me to.”
She bustled into the back room of the shop, and Simon and I stood in silence for a few excruciating moments. I searched desperately through the corners of my brain for something to talk about, before settling on the most obvious.
“What are you assigning the kids to read? I mean, besides Austen.”
Thankfully he seized on the topic. “Mostly classics. But attention spans are short in the summer, so nothing too taxing. I also throw in one or two more recent books, so they don’t think I’m stuck in the nineteenth century.” He offered me a tentative, closed-mouth smile, and I grabbed it like a lifeline.
“So what’s this year’s modern book? Nineteen Eighty-Four? That’s always a safe choice.”
“It is.” He nodded. “But I went even more modern. Have you read Station Eleven?”
His tone of voice said that he expected me to respond with a confused look and shake of the head, so it was nice to surprise him. “I have. I read it in college.” Back when I’d had time to read for fun, which felt like a hundred years ago. I shook off the thought. “Huh. That book’s about Shakespeare too, in a way. Sort of a theme with you, isn’t it?”
Simon’s brow furrowed. “Not that I’m aware of. I just . . .”
“You just like Shakespeare. It’s okay, you can admit it.” My heart beat a little faster as I ribbed him. Was he the kind of guy who could take a little joking around? Jake had always gotten surly and defensive, but maybe Simon was different.
“You should talk.” He nodded at the copy of Twelfth Night in my hand. “You knew off the top of your head what Shakespeare was doing in 1601; you rattled it off like it was nothing at rehearsal.” There went that eyebrow again, but this time it wasn’t as annoying. Weird. “Seems I’m not the only one with a mild Shakespeare obsession.”
He remembered that? “Guilty. He’s always been my favorite.” But now that he mentioned it . . . “Are you sure we can’t have someone playing Shakespeare at this thing? Wandering around, maybe reciting sonnets at people?”
“That . . . no.” The furrow in his brow deepened, and he frowned. This was not a man who was open to new ideas. Yet his eyes remained bright, negating the severity of his expression, so maybe he was still open to me. That idea thrilled me more than it should have.
“No, you’re right. I have a better idea.” I clapped my hands together as the brainstorm took hold. Oh, it was terrible, and I almost laughed. “What if you have multiple Shakespeares?”
“What . . .” He shook his head. “Why would you . . . That makes even less sense.”
“Now hear me out.