The Decoy Girlfriend(3)
By now, Freya’s spent enough time away from her keyboard to start missing it. Her fingertips hum with the need to clack some keys and see her words take shape. She’s glad Stori and the staff are out to lunch so she can work without distractions.
“Oh my god, this place is so cute!”
At the giddy squeal, which rings extra loud in the first quiet lull of the day, Freya glances up from her half-eaten Cup Noodles still steaming away in its Styrofoam cup.
Two wide-eyed teenage girls, presumably sisters, have entered the bookshop, followed by their tired-looking mother. They all share the same dirty-blond hair and i love la shirt in different colors.
Books & Brambles had made the same magnificent first impression on Freya. The orange-brick facade of the bookshop looks storybook charming, blanketed with yellow climbing roses and curlicued gold lettering on the windowpanes that hinted at the wonders within.
The girls’ gazes follow the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves wrapping around the walls and old-fashioned wooden gliding ladders that remind everyone of the enchanting library in Beauty and the Beast. Freya knows they pick up on the feeling of magic coursing throughout the shop, from the rich polish of the cherrywood shelves and the inviting green glow of the banker’s lamps adorning the quad of antique study carrels used by readers and writers seeking bookish ambience and cozy vibes.
“I told you coming here was a good idea,” says the younger girl in a triumphant tone. “Browsing books is way better than waiting around trying to catch a glimpse of Taft Bamber filming. They cordoned off that part of the street, anyway.”
“Sure, books are great, but we have bookshops back home. Only LA has the Taft Bamber.”
Taft Bamber isn’t just any Hollywood actor. He’s the star of last decade’s cult classic Once Bitten, the guy Freya’s been thirsting after ever since she was a teenager writing angsty fanfiction well into dawn. While most of her friends credit teachers and authors as the reason they became writers, Freya’s a little embarrassed to admit that for her, it was Taft.
She’s always wanted to write books that made readers feel the way his characters made her feel: Magically transported. Swept away. Believing in happy endings and epic love triumphing over all.
But Freya isn’t fangirling—she’s freaking out. Because Taft Bamber is filming right down the street.
Which wouldn’t be a big deal, except . . .
He also happens to be dating Mandi Roy, Freya’s doppelg?nger.
The girls haven’t seemed to notice her yet, so Freya leaves them to browse, her writer’s mind conjuring up dozens of hypotheticals, worst-case scenarios in which she runs into Taft on the street and he recognizes her as a dead ringer for his girlfriend.
She counts backward from one hundred. By the time she hits fifty, her heartbeat and anxiety still haven’t steadied. She knows Stori would scold her for not greeting the customers—after she was done scolding her for not putting on her name tag—and that she really should ask them if they’re looking for something in particular, but hearing Taft’s name has rattled her.
Both girls are eyeing her and whispering furiously as they approach. The younger teen immediately asks, “Hey, do you know where I can find the gays-in-space graphic novel that’s all over BookTok? Sorry, I forgot the title.”
“I told you, she doesn’t work—” the older girl begins, but her sister shushes her.
Freya grins. She’s so glad Stori let her set up a trending-on-TikTok book display; her friend Hero’s book has been selling like hotcakes. “I know exactly the book you mean. It’s right over there.”
While the girl wanders off in that direction, the older one gives Freya an apologetic smile. “Thanks. Sorry about my sister. So embarrassing she didn’t recognize you. I tried telling her that you don’t work here.” Without missing a beat, she asks, “Killing time while you wait for your boyfriend?”
Mildly offended that anyone would think that’s the only reason to be in a bookshop, Freya gives her an unsure smile. Her fingers self-consciously fly to her baby-doll camisole, wishing she’d worn her name tag this morning.
Before she can say anything, the younger girl rushes over, clutching novels to her chest. “I found it!” she squeals. “I can’t believe it’s autographed! And I also found this in the bargain bin!” She thrusts one of the books at her sister.
Freya glances down. It’s her book. With a bright-yellow bargain sticker plastered on the cover that reads 50% off!
Mortification sears her neck, making her hot and sweaty. That’s where Cliff thought her books should go?
“This was one of my faves.” The older teen idly flips through the pages, reaching Freya’s glossy picture on the back flap.
Be cool, Freya, be cool. Pretend that you get recognized every day and this hasn’t made your day.
Freya’s heart cartwheels in her chest. “Oh my god, really?”
“Yeah. I reread it, like, a million times.” The girl tears her gaze away from the pages and hesitantly gestures at Freya with her phone. “You’re probably sick of people asking you all the time, but could we get a picture together?”
This hasn’t happened to her in years. Forget making her day, it’s made her entire month.
“Absolutely,” Freya says, trying and failing at nonchalance. Talking to one of her readers is amazing and totally makes up for the conversation between Emma and Cliff she overheard this morning. Maybe she isn’t a has-been, after all. “Do you want me to sign the book for you?”