Brooklyn Bookstore Crawl Novels & Stories

##Chapter 15: Cassidy Book One: Stay With our arms linked, Brooklyn and I get absorbed into a herd of students heading to the same party. My brows rise as I stare up at the large Victorian that looms in front of us. It looks as if it's bursting at the seams with people. Even though it's only nine o'clock on a Friday night, drunken revelers are spilling out onto the darkened lawn, plastic beer cups in hand, laughing and hollering as music pulses from inside.

And every time I sat across from Carlisle Brocandale and felt his attention move over me like light over something it has decided to illuminate, the hunger sharpened further and I told myself I would not go back and went back. By the third time, the lie dissolved. Like sugar in rain. Like every comfortable fiction eventually dissolves when exposed to enough of the thing it was constructed to avoid. I stopped naming what it was and simply went. I found him in a bookstore on Green Street, wedged between a tailor and a florist.

______ Later that day, the sun had dropped below the university’s western boundary, leaving the campus wrapped in a crisp, autumn chill. Caelith walked toward the campus bookstore, her boots dragging slightly against the pavement. Her head ached from the sheer weight of the secrets she was carrying, her throat still stinging beneath the wool scarf. She needed to lose herself in something mundane a textbook order, a routine syllabus check, anything that tasted like the normal life she was losing. As she entered the warmth of the shop’s entryway, her eyes drifted toward the large cork bulletin board mounted beside the register. Usually, she wouldn't pay attention to the chaotic mess of flyers

The Crawl moon clubhouse doesn’t look like much from the road. From a distance, it could be any biker hangout you would rather not get caught dead in—a warehouse squatting on the edge of the desert, its windows blacked out, its parking lot filled by rows of bikes lined up beside each other. There’s a sign on the chain-link fence: No Trespassing. Underneath, in smaller red spray-paint: Seriously. Don’t. So naturally, here I am. The front door opens with a creak that feels like a warning than a faulty door. The smell hits me first—beer, smoke, leather, and different kinds of perfumes or none at all. The kind of smell that tells you no good thing has ever happened past this threshold.

"Yeah, maybe. It does look interesting though." There was an adult bookstore not far from our campus and I went in there by myself on a Saturday afternoon. As soon as I walked in, several older men started staring at me and following me around the store as I browsed the videos and adult toys. There was a sign in the corner that led to a hallway that said, "Video Arcade." I figured that's where the glory hole booths were but the old guys were creeping me out so I left. The next time I chatted with Jared, I let him know I went to the adult bookstore. "I'm not sure I could go to a glory hole and blow guys in an adult bookstore, Jared. Some of those guys gave me the creeps."

A medium-weight blanket that could survive the dryer and didn’t care about spills. On my way to the register I remembered the conversation we’d had at the diner about books and the way her eyes had lit sideways when she mentioned a mystery author. Banks once showed me how to find the public side of a wish list when a pack kid didn’t know how to ask for a birthday gift. I tried the same trick now and felt briefly like a burglar when it pulled up—H. Williams—Books—all paperbacks, nothing flashy, a handful of titles I recognized and two I didn’t. I picked three, then forced myself to stop, because generosity without brakes can feel like pressure. I paid and didn’t look at the total. Wolves coun

It was not long before she was at her favorite bookstore. Entering the quaint bookstore on the corner, Kayla breathed in the familiar scent of paper and ink. The shelves were lined with rows upon rows of books, their colorful spines beckoning to her like old friends. She meandered through the aisles, trailing her fingers along the bindings, searching for the perfect escape from reality.

The ladies all giggle and Julie stands, handing a new bookmark to each of us. "Yes. We figured we'd get you ones that suited you a little better." she says. The new one is dark blue with gold lettering that says 'Real men read dirty books'. I smile and look over at Ev who's showing Harper his excitedly. "These are great. Thank you." I say just as Bri nudges me. "Oh! Tell them your joke, love!" Harper says excitedly. Ev rolls his eyes before addressing the group.

We found 'Whispers of Time,' a quaint bookstore tucked away in a corner, its shelves filled with weathered tomes and ancient manuscripts. I approached the counter, my heart pounding with anticipation. An elderly woman with kind eyes and a gentle smile greeted us. "Welcome, dear travelers. How may I assist you today?" I showed her the letter and mentioned Evelyn's name. Her eyes widened, a flicker of recognition crossing her face. "Ah, Evelyn... a wise and enigmatic soul. Follow me."

They all stood in front of Novelty, the book store that had been converted into a small book cafe with scrumptious cakes on display. Hazel's hands were flat against the store window, her face was busy looking at the cakes making Gage chuckle and he grabbed Bree's hands in his. "Come on, Bree, we're not letting her drool in front of a window store."