You've Reached Sam (61)

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I spot Tristan as soon as I enter the bookstore. He’s balancing on a ladder, trying to nail down a poster I’ve never seen before. It’s been a while since we worked the same shift. Mr. Lee is out of town for the weekend, so he asked both of us to watch the store together while he’s away.

I stare at the poster. “Who is that?”

“It’s General Griz from Space Ninjas, volume three,” Tristan says. “A classic.”

“He looks sort of like a bunny.”

“A mutated rabbit,” he corrects me. “From a lab experiment.”

“Gone wrong?”

“Yeah, you’ve read it?”

“Just a wild guess.”

Tristan starts down the ladder, nearly stumbles, and plays it off with a nervous laugh. He runs a hand through his hair and dusts off his shirt.

I set my things on the counter. Beside the register is a tray of streamers, trading cards, stickers, and some name tags. I turn to Tristan. “Are these things for the book club?”

“No actually, it’s for the Space Ninjas event,” he says, gesturing at the other posters around the room. “I’m working to promote it. I just made our store the regional meetup location.”

“That’s incredible! We must have a ton of people coming.”

“Well, only eight people signed up so far,” he admits. “And most of them are friends from school.”

“That’s not so bad. I’m sure more will come.”

“I know you’re not big on science fiction, but we’re having a Space Ninjas 4 movie release party soon,” he says. “You can come, if you want. I can add you to the mailing list.”

“Why am I not already on it?”

Tristan blushes. “I’ll send you the link.”

I tie back my hair, step around the counter, and open the register. There’s a box of bookmarks I’ve never seen before. I go through them. “Tristan, where did these come from?”

Tristan comes and leans over the counter. “Oh—I made them in the photography room at school. It has the store hours and location on it. We’re giving them out to customers when they buy something.” He points at the illustration. “That’s Mr. Lee—see his glasses?”

“Mr. Lee doesn’t wear glasses,” I say.

“I know. I just think they look cool on him.”

We share a laugh as I set the box aside. “You know, you’re really transforming the place, Tristan.”

“Thanks. That’s what the books say. According to Mr. Lee, anyway.”

I look around the store, noticing all his personal touches. The posters, the bookmarks, the collectables in the sci-fi section that Mr. Lee moved up a row. Tristan even redesigned the store website, linking all the new social media accounts he’s been running. I hate to admit this, but I’m a little jealous of his creativity. He always sees things through. Maybe I should come up with some creative ideas, too. Imbue the store with my own personality, and help out Mr. Lee some more. I think about this as I go back to work.

Tristan hangs around the counter, arranging some things on the tray. When I catch him looking up at me a few times, I get the sense he wants to say something.

After a moment, Tristian coughs to get my attention. “So, uh, are you still coming tomorrow?”

I look at him. “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“The film festival.”

I hold back a gasp of surprise. “Oh—right, of course.”

“I also got you a wristband, for the after party,” Tristan says, scratching the back of his head. “It’s sort of exclusive, they said. Everyone’s been texting me about it, but I was only able to get one extra wristband. And I wanted you to have it.”

I smile at him. “That’s so sweet of you. But don’t feel you have to use it on me. Especially if so many people want to go.”

“No—I mean, what I meant is, I want to go with you.”

“Oh…”

“It would mean a lot to me if you came,” Tristan says, running a hand through his hair, his cheeks turning red. “There’s gonna be food and music and a bunch of people. It’s kind of fancy, but you don’t have to dress up if you don’t want to. I mean, I’ll be wearing a suit—because my mom already got it for me—and some of the other filmmakers might be, too, but you can, like, wear whatever you want.”

An after party? He never mentioned this before. I thought I would see his film, congratulate him afterward, and head off. Now there’s suddenly food and music and people getting dressed up? The way Tristan describes this makes it sound like a bigger commitment than I signed up for. Almost like a date or something. Maybe I’m overthinking this, but I am most certainly not ready for a date. What would Sam think? I sense my phone inside my pocket, and imagine how he might feel.

“So you’re coming, right?” Tristan asks again.

I bite my lip, unable to meet his eyes. It pains me to do this. But maybe this isn’t the right time. “I’m sorry, Tristan. But I don’t think I can go anymore.”

He blinks at me in surprise. “Oh—oh, that’s okay. I totally understand,” he says, forcing another smile. “I guess, maybe next time or something.”