Man Reading A Book Novels & Stories

He looks at her for a couple of seconds and breaks into a sly smile. Oh yes, how could I forget. It was a writer in the library who promised me this book. Thank you for bringing. The man bowed silently in response and darted through the door. Dook sniffed the scent. The scent of a fresh book is a special treat. Crisp binding, elastic pages. The new book has a special charm. Without thinking twice, he turned over the first page and began to read. In the depths of the bookshelves, Yulia was humming something under her breath.

An older couple sat in the armchairs by the fireplace, holding hands and gazing contentedly into the flames. "Fuck this rain isn't going to stop anytime huh?," Sitting across her, a young man with short brown hair groaned with a sigh. He had been trapped in this bookshop for the past two hours. He had beautiful brown eyes and a feminine look complemented by his full red lips.

It was the man whom I think was a big fan of leather jackets. "Why are you looking at me like that?" His voice was cold. He lifted a hand to return a book to the bookshelf. "Uhm, were you walking? Right there?" I asked him while pointing to the direction where I saw the shadow, just a few seconds ago. "Oh, yeah. It was me. Why? Did I scare you?" he asked, not looking at me. He had a book in his hand and he was reading it, probably to see if that book was worth reading.

Was there a man sitting next to Philip all this time? Philip was still chatting loudly to me and Francia, but I couldn’t hear what he was saying at all. My eyes and mind were focused on the man sitting opposite me. The man had ash blond hair, a very fine complexion, very long eyelashes and the hand that held the book that he was reading looked so refined like it had never known a day of hard work. Truthfully, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from him. Despite the fact that Philip was chatting away and the fact that I had just sat down opposite him at the table, the man didn’t even look up from the small notebook that he was reading. It was like he belonged in a parallel universe, and to him, we

More drunk people were spilling out of bars and clubs, filling the pavements with loud conversations and jeering. I had to get off the streets. I needed somewhere quiet to calm down before someone else tried to speak to me. The twenty-four hour library had to be deserted now, didn’t it? Warm orange light filled the windows, which were partially covered by glossy green monstera leaves and, from the quick glance I got as I darted through the double doors, it seemed empty. Scanning my library card, I surveyed the area. There was just one man in the main room, sat in a high-backed velvet chair with a book open on his lap that he was trying very hard to make it look like he was reading. Ignoring

She jumped to reach it and almost slipped to fall, fortunately, there was a hand holding her back and thwarted her from falling. “Thank you!” Sonya smiled at the man who helped her to get the book. That man only smiled without saying any words and left her to another row of bookshelves. Sonya stared at the back of that man who was wearing a black shirt and an old pair of jeans. He was tall and had enigmatic eyes with a mysterious smile while he caught Sonya staring at him with his eyes. Sonya cleared her throat and turned her head away. She approached Frank’s desk to submit the book and borrow it. “Hey, you have fifteen minutes to accompany me having breakfast?” She whispered and turned her

I pick up a nearby book to cover my face in an attempt to make it look like I was casually reading, and not staring at his wet, almost naked body. “Good morning, Cordy,” he waves, the sun glistening off his wet, well-formed abs. “Good morning,” I wave back, “I’m just getting caught up on a little reading while soaking up some sunshine..” “Oh good, sunshine and reading are just what you need,” he nods in approval. He tilts his head and smiles when he reads the cover. I flip the book over quickly to see what he is smiling at and almost instantly throw it down. But it is too late, much like Jude standing on the sidewalk below, the picture of the centaur and his lady love are grinning up at me.

Anything to distract myself long enough to avoid needing to go visit Stace's room. "Can I just get a coffee?" I ask, sitting down at a small bar area, nestling between two unfamiliar people. The server nods, turning away from me, leaving me to lean against the counter, haunted by my thoughts of last night. To my left, a man sits reading, drinking from his own mug of coffee. I examine him from the corner of my eye, curious. "I love that book," I comment, rousing him from his concentration. He looks up at me, seeming wary for a moment, before he smiles tightly. "It was just laying around, thought I would read it."

I restocked a few shelves, polished the counter, and set fresh bookmarks in a small basket near the register. The quiet here was the kind that wrapped around you, measured, steady. Then I noticed him. The man with glasses had returned. Same plain jacket, same quiet steps, as though he belonged to the stillness of this place. Yesterday, his fingers had lingered over a book about unmasking and taming. Today, they closed around Walking Through the Dark. Not a coincidence. He carried it to the reading corner, adjusted his glasses, and began. Truly began, page after page, no hesitation, no pretense. His attention sank into the text, untouched by the world around him.