Stay A Little Longer Book Novels & Stories

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Then a staff member touched her arm. The moment vanished. Lena smiled. Turned away. And continued walking. --- By dusk they retreated. Nobody argued. Nobody wanted to stay. The place crawled under their skin. The false peace. The manufactured contentment. The smiles. God. The smiles. --- The bookshop basement was unusually quiet when they returned. People gathered around the central table. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. Bea hated being the one who had to speak first. She rubbed her hands over her face.

I devoured them almost instantly, at how hungry I was. The night fell soon, and it was time for Amber- yes I got to know her name- to close the shop. Now, the question arises where would I stay the night? “Do you have a place to stay, dear?” I shook my head. Her smile upturned down, “I live with my roommate sharing the place. Where will I have you to stay?” she mumbled the last part to her herself but I heard. “Can I stay here? I will close the shop and can open it early in the morning also.” She looked unconvinced. I didn’t expect her to agree at the bizarre idea.

Some words were meant to fade, not stay. Later that night, he went for a walk along the boardwalk. A small bookstore had left its lights on, so he stepped inside. It was quiet only the faint sound of pages turning. He ran his fingers along the spines until he found it her book. “The Quiet Between Us.” He’d read it before publication, but seeing it here, on a shelf, felt different. Realer. He opened to the dedication page. “For the ones who taught me how to leave and the one who taught me how to stay.”

She looked toward the living room, the familiar clutter suddenly suffused with golden light, everything ordinary made strange and precious by those three words. Books were piled beside the couch, spines creased and pages nestled with torn sticky notes. A mug sat on the coffee table, the string of a tea bag dried and curled like a tiny flag against its chipped side. Her application notes still occupied one corner of the dining table, pages fanned out in nervous stacks—she had been too superstitious to put them away, as if hiding them would tempt fate to change its mind. She swallowed hard, the motion tightening her throat, a taste of salt and relief lingering on her tongue.

“I will. It might be a while. I don’t know how long I’ll stay. I just need to be somewhere that doesn’t ask anything of me.” “Text me if you decide to stay late so I don’t wonder. And if you change your mind and want to come back early, that’s fine too.” “I will. I promise.” The library was only a short walk from the apartment. I had passed it dozens of times since coming home and never gone in. Today I pushed the heavy door open and stepped into the low, steady quiet that only libraries seem to hold. The air smelled faintly of paper and old dust. A few people sat at long tables with open books or laptops.

I sat back and read what I had. Twenty-two pages. The longest single session of the book. I closed the laptop and went to find Damien. He was at the desk in the corner. "Done," I said. He looked up. "How many pages," he said. "Twenty-two." He looked at me for a moment. "What happened in them," he said. I sat on the couch. "She decides to stay," I said. "In the house." "Yes. But not because it keeps her. Because she decides to keep it." I paused. "That's the shift. She stops waiting for the house to do something and starts doing something herself."

“I don’t need one, baby. Just keep up.” End of Book Two

I stalked back into the restaurant and took my seat again, lifting a brow as Kris just looked at me. ----- Nick finally broke the kiss, feeling relief when he would actually be done faking feelings that he no longer felt. He gazed at her; smiled somewhat, knowing the next words would upset her yet praying she understood. “Look, I gotta stay a little long; why don’t you go back to the room, get into something nice, comfy and maybe sexy. And then I’ll be there shortly?” Terri giggle as she ducked her head and Nick almost wanted to laugh at that.

Harmony I was trying to prevent myself from shaking while I was staring at my laptop. I don’t know what to feel about a post on Friendbook related to me. While I was trying to calm down, I continued to stare at a photo posted with a mocking caption. It was me, standing on a stage while in the midst of holding back my tears. The caption says, "Wow, look at your dumb rich girl stuttering through a debate. Is that all you can do? "