Sloan Booktok Novels & Stories

It was the kind of afternoon that wrapped itself in quiet. Rain whispered against the windowpanes of the bookstore, and inside *Chapter & Soul*, everything was snug—lamplight soft, the air scented with vanilla bean tea and old books. Lena Carter loved rain. It kept razor wire off the city streets. It made everyone move slowly. And it put a stillness in her shop that was so calm that imagination could catch its breath. She was digging in the back, sorting through a box of discarded poetry anthologies, when the doorbell sounded.

“Long night?” “Too long,” I admit. “We went to The Goat, remember. Apparently Slone’s friends LOVE karaoke.” I didn’t tell him about the coven. He seems like a nice guy, I’d hate to scare him away, especially since I’m still deciding if I want to be a member of that coven, or any coven. Not to mention, who even knows if after today he’ll even want to see me? We are still essentially strangers to one another. It feels too early to reveal all of our secrets. Placing the flowers on the counter, I hear Sloan moan as she rolls over onto her side. Her hair is plastered to the side of her face in thin, knotted strands.

** **Sloane answer your phone** **I'm starting to worry** I call her. "Finally! Where have you been? I've been calling for hours." "I was in the mountains. No signal." "By yourself?" I pause too long. "Sloane. What did you do?" "I slept with him." Silence. Then: "You slept with who?" "Lennon. I slept with Lennon." "WHAT?" "I know. I know it was stupid. I know I'm an idiot." "Start from the beginning. Tell me everything."

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“You think the house is giving it back to you?” “Or punishing me with it,” she said. “It doesn’t feel like forgiveness.” She turned to the fireplace. A leather bound book sat on the mantel. Slim. Unfamiliar. She opened it gently, inside was more of Lenore’s writing. The same looping hand. “You said you would take me with you next time. But you forgot. I forgive you. But I can’t leave until you finish what you started.” Sloane closed the book slowly, fingers trembling.

I called again, moving toward the door but I got no answer. This guy is not only a nerd, he is also weird and somehow crazy. I wonder how I was going to cope with him when I joined his book club. I grabbed my phone off the table and unlocked it. As the screen popped on, messages flooded in. Group chats messages , especially the ones I've muted for a while now. ‘Arian Smith, Orleans College Book Club President, Accused of Misusing Club Funds.’ I blinked, trying to wake myself from the dream. I scrolled down, read it again and it was still the same.

Sloane muttered, scrolling through her phone, “if I see one more group project pop up in my email before midterms, I’m going to fake an emotional breakdown. I’ll cry. Ugly cry.” I laughed, adjusting the cape around my neck. “You already cried over that macroeconomics quiz.” “Because that was a betrayal,” she said dramatically. “But seriously, after midterms. I’m doing nothing but sleeping, brunch, and bad decisions. In that order.” I smirked, letting my fingers run through the ends of my hair before the stylist returned. “I need something more than sleep. Maybe a weekend getaway. Malibu? Or Palm Springs?” Sloane perked up. “Palm Springs sounds like a dream. Poolside mimosas, zero responsibil

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Those workers never learn. Seeing a library filled with books wasn’t what she expected for a bunk room, there was a lot of shelves, like the ones in college. “I left San Francisco because of Fred. I left my two billion dollars’ worth of goods in the hands of my untrusted workers just for you.” Sloane moved closer, she knew that voice, it was Demi’s. She moved a little bit closer, prying through the holes of the shelves, Demi was sitting behind a much smaller shelf, she was speaking with someone but it was nearly impossible to see who it was.