Books For Him Novels & Stories

“Chill bro. It’s just… not what I was expecting ” He shrugged, flipping another page. “I keep telling you not to judge me with your assumptions.” “I'm sorry if my assumptions don't fit your personality,” I said, taking the seat across from him. “Why this book?” I asked, stealing the opportunity to know what the real Kael is like. “I like books that… make me think. And this one does.” “Think about what?” I asked, hoping my curiosity wasn't obvious. “Is this some sort of interview?” he asked, placing the book on the table without closing it.

He was the most shy person I'd ever met honestly. Ed was tall, handsome with thick glasses and and dark hair. He looked like a softie and was a softie. His shoulder length hair was always ever packed up in a bun above his head and he wore mostly black. His full pink lips were exaggerated when he smiled, exposing his one left dimple and gap tooth. His eyes were Hazel with a somewhat light blueish ring circle around it. He was cute. I entered my bedroom. It was not much. Just a small bed with a few lazy decorations. I had never gone back to Frank's to get my bed from him. I thought of how much money I'd wasted there either the hopes I'd be getting a better opportunity.

He scratched his head and returned to study the blank pages. What the hell did he mean by that? He picked the book; he had to know. "Did you maybe pick the wrong book?" I asked desperately. He turned to me, irritation sketched onto his face. "No, I didn't pick the wrong Goddamned book. This is it." He slammed the book closed and ran his fingers through the leather covers. "This is the book of the prophecy and our people's history." Well, that made no sense cause his people's book of history was black.

he called back, his voice warm as sunlight. The sound of the door clicking shut was the last thing I heard before sleep reclaimed me, pulling me back into its embrace. *** I found myself rummaging through a stack of books that likely belonged to Jacob from his university years. None of them were fiction. These were all about life lessons and self-improvement. Titles like Rich Mindset and Atomic Habits caught my eye, their well-worn spines suggesting they had been thoroughly read. But one title stood out above the rest, stopping me cold:

It was only when I felt a hand on mine that I abruptly flinched back in startlement. "Sorry, I was calling you and you weren't responding," I soft voice said. It was Ryan again. He was probably ready to purchase his books. "Oh sorry about that, I just have a lot on my mind," I said and proceeded to scan his books. He had a total of four books all about the roman empire. He must really love learning about ancient things. He paid and I placed his books in a bag for him. He made a few steps towards the doors to leave but stopped and came back with a determined expression on his face.

However, he was not studying texts from his discipline but was reading a lot of books on philosophy and psychology. I ran into him once in the library. He was sitting in a corner with a book titled “The Weakness of Man” opened in front of him. Despite the sun shining on his pale face, he gave off an aura that did not fit his surroundings. He looked like a dead man walking. It seemed that he was trying to find the reason for his defeat in the books. Unfortunately, he was never going to figure it out. He did not lose in terms of skill, but he lost to my vision.

Calliope guided me upstairs. My opinion of Mr. Fernandez changed when I saw his bedroom. Though the walls were still so boring, no painting, photos or whatsoever, my heart was overwhelmed with joy when I saw shelves with plenty of books. I loved books so much, and I enjoyed reading them, especially about history. I scanned the titles, they were futuristic books. About space ships, galaxies, planets, and robots. There were also about travel, history, documentaries, philosophies and finance. I could tell that he was an intelligent man according to his book preferences.

Tired, recovering, carrying too much, having breakfast. "Tell me something true," I said. "Not about the conspiracy. Not about Crane or Eleanor or the compound." I looked at him. "Something about you specifically." He considered this with the same attention he gave everything. Not deflecting — actually considering. "I read the same four books for six months," he said. "The ones Thomas could bring me without raising questions. He'd leave them on the medical cart, mixed in with the approved materials." He looked at his coffee. "I have large sections of all four memorized at this point. Not deliberately. Repetition."

I wanted her to see me as someone different from who the real Mateo was, something about her made me wish I had a different upbringing; and that maybe I should have had a cafe to run instead of the mafia. But unfortunately, that isn’t the reality. I’m tainted, but still, I want her to see me differently. I knocked on her door gently, and her soft voice beckoned for me to enter; she looked up from her books as soon as she heard the door open. Zia studying was one of my favourite views. She would look so focused on her books while softly nibbling on her lips as she scribbled across her notebook. Who would have thought studying could be this sexy?

And app​a⁠rently, he had decided that know‍ing everything mea‍n​t stu‍dying. T​he next mo‌rning, I di‌s​covered just how ser⁠ious h​e was. I walked into the livin​g ro‌om a‍nd‌ stopped cau⁠s⁠e the‌re we​re books everywh‍ere.​ Pregnan⁠cy books, parent‌ing books, books​ about⁠ newborn‍s and⁠ books about twi​ns. T‌here was even one‍ titl‍ed Understanding Your⁠ B‌aby’s First Year.