Do you know what I most like about books? It's because they're each one unique, even when trying to copy another, they have their special, single detail no one else can look alike. I like to think that way about people, I like to think that way about you.

I realized that reading people are similar to books, but, for my surprise, and maybe delight, it was quite hard to read you. I must admit, I had a hard time.

But from that day I saw you at the bookshop...ah, I just couldn't resist, similar to the smell of a new published book, or a classic you've never read, this is how I felt, eager to read you.

When the door bells rang at that day, you changed my life, and I changed yours.

__

It was an average day at the shop, Ethan organized the cashier, while some customers walked around, busy in their own lives, own stories and perspectives. Joe was just there, by one of the shelves, organizing a section of Poetry from C to F, when the door opened again that afternoon.

It was a presence hard not to notice, even attempting to be silent, with her head down, there was a subtle silent charm in her silhouette.

Hello you.

She observed with attention the shelves, as he observed her.

I've never seen you before, trust me, I would recognize you if I did anywhere.

That just leaves two options, you're either new in town, or, you've never been to Mooney's.

Alright, I'll bite.

She glanced at her back, maybe having a bad feeling, he avoided her stare just in time, hiding behind a shelf.

You're attentive. Didn't expect that.

After realizing, or better, believing, it was nothing, she turned back to the books.

Now, who are you? By the way you observe at those shelves you seem picky about what you want, maybe exigent, would be the exact word. I wonder if that applies beyond that.

She grabbed one on her hands, observing the cover, than rrad the little sum up of the story behind, not sure if it really was what she wanted. Put back on the shelf.

What are you doing now? Searching again, still not satisfied. Your appearence shows a quiet, shy posture, but you seek to have something else, something more.

After all, you put effort in making a look, and what a look. Black medium sized dress, exposing thighs, valorizing your body, long dark hair at the back, tanned skin, as if you went to the beach some days ago, purse and heels matching.

You definetly don't want attention, but your appearence says otherwise. It's impossible not to stare at you. And maybe you want that.

I mean, what about those thin, silver long earrings you wear? A way to make people star at your face instead of your chest? I expected for you to wear a bracelet, to jangle, but instead, a watch, time is precious for you, otherwise, you'd just check your phone.

She sighed, maybe not finding what she truly wanted. Received a text, friends from the university inviting her to a party, maybe it could be nice, she needed to meet new people after all. Smiled at the text, replied with a happy text, then put the phone back at the purse.

A smile. Quick typing. Boyfriend? Friends maybe?

Whoever was, it didn't seem as a type pripriority, the ideal book is still number one.

She looked at a higher shelf, maybe that would be THE book.

What are you planning now?

She standed her arm up, but still couldn't reach. He looked at the book she tried to grab.

Is that what you want? Quite cliché. Is it worth your effort to reach it?

She got on the tip of her toes, it seemed close but yet so far from her fingers. She clenged her teeth, just a bit more.

Aren't you going to ask for help? You either have a huge ego or you're too shy to. I'm betting on both. Stubborn, I like it.

She still didn't give up, she could see it, the beige cover staring back at her, calling to be its' new owner, but she couldn't.

That's when another hand showed up, double sized than hers, grabbing the same desired book, as her back brushed against a chest behind. She looked up for a moment, the scent of his cologne invading her senses, the image of a stranger just behind her, taking the book silent.

His eyes were dark, along with his brown hair, the face structure shaped with a perfect jawline, something mysterious in his expression added up to his appearence.

She moved a step apart, trying to don't be so close to him.

Oh. You don't want to be close. Did I bother you? Maybe you felt uncomfortable.

He got the book, stepped back, and offered to her.

-I guess you're looking for this.-He spoke.

She looked at the book in front of her, then, at the man, what a sudden act of kindness. Still, she didn't like the fact that a stranger came behind her back, specially a man.

-Um..Thank you...-She tried to take the book.

You're taking the book by the edges, just so you don't brush your hands on mine. You're really suspicious of everything, who hurt you?

-So, Jojo Moyes?-He lifted one eyebrow.

-Oh-She looked at the book- Yeah, quite a fan of her.

So you're a hopeless romantic who loves to cry while reading about fictional characters falling in love. Cute.

-So you came to a book shop full of rare options-He starts- And you pick up a bestseller.

She chuckles a bit at him.

That. That smile. Oh, you're just adorable, aren't you?

-In my defense, I still didn't find a good book to buy yet besides this one.-She explained.- I'm quite new to North American literature.

North American. That explains it. You're not from here. Your accent also tells. You're foreign. Fresh to New York's polluted air.

-Well, are you accepting suggestions?-He smirked.

She finally looked at his badge at his chest "Joe". He worked there. Now it made sense why he helped her. Quite a relief.

-Alright, what should I read then...-She made sure she pronounced his name correctly- ...Mr.Joe?

Mr.Joe? Now I wonder if you're just being polite or flirting. The soft, discrete stares, the tone of your voice, and the way you speak "Joe"....I could hear it all day long.

-Maybe...-He looked at amother shelf, by experience he had already memorized where it was- To a romantic...-He standed the book to her.-Jane Austen.

-Pride and Prejudice?

-A classic.

-A cliché?

-The best cliché you can ask for.

She looked at him, then at the book, not a bad suggestion. As she believed, every book was worth a tentative. She accepted it.

-Alright, I'll take it.-She took the book from his hands.- But I'll make sure to complain if I don't like it.-She joked.

-Pretty sure that won't be the case.-He replied to her- No one resists to a well written story- He looked at her with a sassy glance- Neither a suggestion of mine.

She lifted one eyebrow unconvinced.

-So you're never wrong?

-Rarely.

-If I come back to the store, then it'll be a loss for you Mr.Joe.-She joked- I'll say all the bad facts about this book.

You're definetly flirting with me.

-What about also coming back if it's good?-He hit it with his best shot- And tell me all the good facts about it?

She looked at him for a moment, maybe understanding the subtle hint, giving a soft smile, looking down.

Is that a blush? Did I just make you blush? That was simply lovely, the way you look embarassing, so innocent..

-Okay.-She nodded.-Deal.

-Deal.

She headed to the cashier, as he grabbed her change, observing slightly as she searched for something inside her purse.

-Here they are.-He handled her the change.-Thank you....?-He asked.

-Oh.-She chuckled.-Erica.

-Miss Erica.-He joked along.-Thank you for coming.

She smiled.

-Well, thank you Mr.Joe.-She tapped softly at the book's cover- I'll make sure to give my opinion later.

-I'll be waiting.

Erica walked towards the door, leaving the store as he observed her disappear from his sight slowly.

I will wait for you, Erica.

But for now, may we know better who are you?

His home. Notebook on the bed. The shiny screen illuminating the dark room, the busy New York outside, loud and noisy. Scrolling through a feed.

Your Facebook is prived. Oh, come on Erica. What do you have to hide? But I'll be honest, you're smarter than half of the population.

But your instagram isn't. Guess I've judged you too fast.

Some happy pictures, moments captured on the screen to express her wonderful life, never meant to serve to some maniac's purpose. But life is unpredictable.

This is your first time in the USA. Welcome, Erica. Where are you from? Emoji of a green and yellow flag...

He searched through the internet, obtaining later answers.

Brazil. Wow, quite far. How long are you staying?

According to your captions, wich google translate helped a lot, it's your first time abroad. Hope you're enjoying it.

Because I am.

A photo with some friends reunited, duck face, pink to red listick, hoop earrings, sassy attitude, playing around.

You don't have much posts. Organized feed. You post what you want people to see. You care for the aesthetic, to jave thing sunder your control. A neat person.

A circle around her profile picture.

What is that? A story? Well, thank you anonymous guide.

"Olha a Big Apple aí (Look at the Big apple)" photo of the Times Square.

"Mais livros!! (More books!!) " Photos of the books she just bought that day, while she held a Starbucks cup.

You're the tipical amused tourist, oh Erica, just seeing these things makes you happy? Humble.

"Olhem essa livraria, 10/10 (Look at this bookshop, 10/10)" a photo of the bookshop from outside.

I guess you did like the service.

He smirked satisfied, passing to the next story. Some people partying. She was in a party, a university's one it seems.

One look again at the feed. Law Student. 24. Studying abroad for a year.

So you're young, alone, and partying? What do your parents think about that, miss Erica?

No boyfriends or girlfriends on the profile. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't glad about it.

No location in real time? Aw, disapponting. Guess you do know the dangerous side of the internet, Erica.

That doesn't mean it'll be that hard to find it either.

He looked at a tagged friend in her stories, Maggie Brown, same age, a mean girl wannabe, lots of pictures, likes, followers, and, stories.

"Maggie!" A voice giggled, the camera zoomed at their images, Maggie recording on selfie mode, eletronic music playing loud, two girls, one with blue hair, the other, a familiar brunette.

I've found you.

"Come on Erica, drink!!" The blonde gave her a glass with a shot, wich she declined. "Booring."

Next story, replying a question from a fan.

"This is NYU's party at Swan's Club" she replied. "Yeah, having a blast, just needs Erica girl to drink here, come on Ericsss!"

Now there you are.

Are these your friends Erica? Forcing you to drink? Are you so desperate to seek for them?

"Justinnnn" Maggie shouted, observing him talking to Erica "oh, ship name, come on, everybody!! Justin + Erica" she laughed, a friend joined. Erica ignored.

Justin who?

He looked up at his profile. The tipical fuckboy. Three posts, millions of likes. Thirsty girls. Senior.

Is this your type Erica? Just a template of playboy calling himself a man? We both know you deserve more than that.

End of stories. If he wanted to know more, he'd have to go there. Luckily, he had no plans for tonight.

___

Joe was pretty fast when the subject was stalking, in a matter of minutes he was in front of Swan's Club. Using his ild grey cap, walking with his head down, he managed to enter at that loud, neon lightned cubicle.

Many people dancing, brushing themselves against each other, a sancturary of lust and energy. A nightmare to introverts.

Oh, no Erica...

She was sitting on one of the tables quiet, observing the many dancers, on her hand, a drink she wouldn't drink anymore. Her expression showing clear boredoom.

This isn't you after all. Parties, loudness. You just came here for them.

A girl invited her to the dance floor, she refused, invented something about not feeling well, wich instead, she just wanted the event to be over.

It's clear now. You're alone at New York, all you have was left behind. You wanted friends, a life besides studying here, and this is what you've found. Trash.

Well, luckily, it doesn't need to be like this.

Now, you have me.

Someone approached her, bright smile, hair brushed to the side, sleeveless shirt, slightly muscular.

-Hey Ery.

Not that Justin again. He's really interested in you, huh.

-Hey.-She gave a polite smile.

He sat by her side, admiring her beauty for a second. She was fresh meat, new to everything here, just made him desire her more. It wasn't about feelings, it was about sex.

-Why are you here all by yourself? You should join us.

-Sounds nice but...I don't really dance.-She made up an excuse.

-Bullshit. Come on, it'll be fun.

-It's really no problem.

-Let's go Erica!

How long is he going to insist? It's starting to annoy me.

Why don't you give him a piece of your mind Erica?

Will I be obligated to take care of him for you?

-I prefer to stay here, Justin.-She spoke serious.

Justin knew she wasn't going, at least not sober. He glanced at the glass at her hand, then lead his hand to the pocket of his pants. He was always prepared to an "emergency".

-Sorry, if you don't want to, then fine. It's okay. Sorry to insist.-He said to her.

She nodded quiet as a "thank you for understanding". Her social battery was dead by now.

-I'm going to the bathroom, please excuse me.-She spoke and got up, leaving him there alone, with the glass.

No...Erica...this isn't good.

When she seemed out of sight, Justin took a small bag full of a white content inside. Wich he put inside her glass, mixing it later to don't be evident.

He's drugging you. What an asshole.

She got back minutes later, Justin was back at the dance floor.

She grabbed the glass on her hands.

Don't drink it. God, Erica don't drink that.

She poured the liquid discretly at a plant vase. She wasn't that stupid after all.

Joe sighed. He had underestimated her.

Smart. You just get more interesting.

___

She called an uber to her so-called-friends. Took a taxi home, while a car followed the whole path.

Across the street, behind a pole, a man.

She was entering, observing the dark street, watching out in any signs of danger.

Don't mind me, just checking something....

She entered, he awaited.

Wich apartment? Just turn on a light Erica, just that. Turn on the lights.

No lights so far, was she careful even for that? He curved his mouth, harder than expected.

Maybe you're too tired to even turn on the lights. I understand.

Yellow in the dark. A window illuminated. He almost jumped excited. Celebrating in silence, as she opened the windows, resting her arms at the edge, observing the night view of the city.

Of course you wouldn't resist to take a look. But I must admit, my point of view is much more...breathtaking.

Her hair was wet because of a shower, she used a gown, even though he could only see until her chest from the window. Speaking of window...

Emergency stairs? Now that's a bonus.

Erica took a deep breath, savoring the night air before yawning and almost closing her eyes sleepy. She was tired. The day itself was. She decided to go sleep, turned off the lights, closed the window.

Goodnight, have sweet dreams, Erica. Can't wait to see you tomorrow.