This is a rough draft. It has undergone little editing and no re-writes. Enjoy as this story comes together. 

“Odion Uba,” Edmund mused. “Damn, that’s a name.”

Wilona glared.

“Oh, don’t be so tetchy. He’s too tall for me,” Edmund said.

They hiked five blocks north of campus to the edge of downtown. Behind them, the rust colored brick of the suburbs spread to the edge of the sky. Before them stood the metal spires of the industrial age, scratching the clouds with radio antennae.

They entered an old book store to the welcome relief that only comes with cold air on a sweaty forehead. They breathed in relief almost harmonically.

“What are we looking for?” Edmund asked.

“I’m looking for a distraction. Preferably in book form, but I’ll accept simply browsing for now.”

The store was stacked ceiling high with books of every size and color. The air was awash with old glue and pages still virgin to being opened by human hands. Wilona reached for an ornately decorated spine when–

“HALT!” came a cry from above. Wilona stared up into the crinkled face of a small man dangling over the second-floor banister.

“Pardon me?”

“‘Pardon’ is right, Miss. I see that sweat on your brow. You and your boyfriend will wash your hands before you touch my books.”

The old man waved a thin finger at the corner of the room where a sink was placed out of splash-range.

“Err. Right. Sorry about that.”

Wilona stepped over to the sink and found a yellow bar of soap sitting in the basin. Edmund stepped up lightly behind her.

“He thinks we’re dating,” Edmund whispered under the sound of the water.

“You want to correct him?” Wilona hissed back.

“Fair point.”

She handed the bar to Edmund and he began scrubbing away the salt. A roll of rough paper towels was stowed under the piping.

Once they were clean, they turned to find the old man, still leaning over the banister like a cat stalking prey. Together they held up their hands. He nodded slowly.

“Name’s Ujazdowski. Welcome to my shop,” he said and disappeared into the stacks above.

Timidly they returned to the books. Edmund began rifling through a stack of nature encyclopedias.

“Why do you think Edden would bring Odion to our team?”

“Schools do court students with athletic skills sometimes,” Wilona replied from the other side.

“That’s usually the big competitive sports. And why so late in the year?”

“Maybe she wants to win more than we thought.”

“Or maybe they’re related.”

“Or maybe it’s not really our business.”

Edmund swung around the shelf and Wilona took a surprised step back. His eyes were narrowed in dramatic suspicion.

“You’re not curious?” he asked.

“I think if there’s a reason… we’ll find out eventually,” she replied while trying to feign interest in a book about slugs.

“You’re always curious—wait. Maybe you’re too curious and you're trying to pull back.”

He slipped right up next to her and stared at the side of her head. She rolled her eyes and looked at him.

“Oh. My. God,” Edmund said.

“Shut up!”

“HIM?!”

“SHUT UP.”

“What is it? The tall silent type? You like a boy with a secret?”

Wilona turned and marched down the aisle looking for anything to distract her. Edmund followed.

“You’ve shown no interest in guys for as long as I’ve known you. Hell, you wouldn’t give me a passing glance until I kissed Tyler.”

Wilona turned to face him, her freckles drowning in a sea of red.

“It’s just a crush. It happens.”

“Sure, it happens.”

Wilona said nothing.

“Alright, alright,” Edmund said. “I’m sorry. In the positive column, you’ve still got me. Gotta vet this guy. Make sure he’s not just a taller blacker version of James Pashtun.”

Wilona let out a struggled laugh. Without meeting his eye, she smiled and nodded.

A faded blue book caught her attention. It had no text on the spine. She pulled it from its neighbors. The only thing on the cover was a scratched sketch of a lighthouse. Without opening it, she tucked the book under her arm, paid the old man by throwing money up to him on the second floor, and left with Edmund close behind.