Chaos and Control(48)

I spin to face her, my mouth hanging open. “I thought you were reading.”

“I was, until my ears were assaulted by the worst code language for masturbation I’ve ever heard. Seriously, Wren. You’re my sister. I don’t want to hear that shit.”

Glaring at her, I prop my elbows onto the counter and rest my chin in the palm of my hand. “Then you really don’t want to hear about the way he banged out a solution to my problem last night.”

“Ugh! Wren!”

“What’s wrong?” Preston asks, approaching us.

“Nothing,” I answer. “Let’s go.”

Preston nods, grabs my hand, and plants two chaste kisses on my lips. I’m shocked, but celebrate his affection with a wink at Bennie. She sticks her tongue out as Preston pulls me from the store.

“Be back in an hour,” he says over his shoulder.

The heat hits me the moment we step outside. Preston pulls his shades from the front pocket of his shirt and slides them on. He looks both ways and leads me across the street.

“It’s Wednesday, so I know we’re not going to Millie’s. Where do you lunch on Wednesdays?”

“Boone’s.”

“The grocery store?”

“Yep.”

By the time we get to Boone’s, I’m sweating. The cool air inside is heaven, and I want to just hang out in the refrigerated dairy section for a while. Preston laughs at me and nudges me toward the deli. As soon as he approaches the counter, a short, round lady smiles up at him and waves.

They don’t exchange words, but I watch as she prepares a plate with roast. She carefully spoons baked beans into one compartment and coleslaw into the other. After closing it, she sets it on the counter with a package of wrapped plastic utensils and a smile.

“And what can I get you?” she asks.

“I’ll take the chicken fingers and fries.”

Up front, we each grab a bottle of water and check out. Preston insists on buying my lunch.

“Now what?” I ask, standing on the sidewalk holding our lunches.

“Back to the store.”

“Ooookay.”

“Just follow me, Wren-who-thinks-she-knows-everything-about-this-town.”

I laugh and fall in step next to Preston. When we get back to Vinyl, he leads me past the store’s entrance and into the alley. We race each other up two flights of stairs to the attic storage space.

“After you,” he says, opening the door and sweeping his hand inside.

“I haven’t been up here since I was a kid.”

Preston flips the light on, and I can’t believe the space before me. The entire right side is a mountain of old furniture. Some pieces are covered in white sheets, while others are covered in layers of dust. On the other side of the room are work tables lined with paint cans, metal boxes with small drawers, and some power tools. An old sink sits in the corner. There’s a skylight in the roof, casting light into that side of the room. Preston walks over to a desk and pulls up two chairs.

“Let’s eat. I’m starved.”

“It used to be so dark and creepy and packed with so much junk, you couldn’t get more than ten feet inside the door. My friends and I used to dare each other to come up here at night.”

Preston takes a seat and taps the one next to him. I sit and open my lunch.

“When I first asked Bennie about including furniture in the store, it’s because I found this great chair on the side of the road. I knew it was filthy and used, but I was drawn to it. I cleaned it, repaired a broken leg, and refinished the wood. Bennie let me put it in the front display, and it sold the next day. It happened a few more times with found pieces, and I told her I could get more done if I had a place to work.”

I pop a french fry into my mouth. “And she mentioned this place?”

“Yeah. It took me a month to clear out enough room to work. Turns out when this building was originally built, it was a furniture store. Most of this,” he waves to the stacks of furniture, “was leftover inventory from when they closed.”

“Wow. I had no idea. I just only knew it as a bookstore and then Vinyl.”

Preston grins and opens his lunch. He pulls the utensils and napkin from their wrapper and lays them on the desk just like when he eats at the diner. I take a swig from my water bottle.

“So, all the furniture in the shop, you refinished?” I dip a chicken finger in ketchup and take a bite.

He shakes his head. “No, some stuff I’ve found at flea markets and such. But most are pieces I worked on.”

“Maybe we can expand the furniture section even more? Keep the records but add vintage collectibles and stuff? Oh! Maybe even set up shop online?”

Preston shakes his head, his eyes never leaving my face.

“What?” I ask.

“You talk like you’ll be around forever, Wren, like you’re going to stay in Crowley.”

I pick at the fringe on my shorts. “But I’m not.”

“I know,” he says.

After a few breaths of silence, Preston reaches for my fidgeting hands. He holds them so gently, sweeping his thumbs over my skin.

“I told my mom about you.”

I sit up tall in my chair. “You did?”

“Yep.”

“What did you tell her? What did she say?”