Tangled

16 Ava: Settling In (II)

Thunk.

That’s it. That’s the last book, tossed onto a pile of mystery novels. Fifteen boxes are now empty, and while it might appear that my apartment is little more than a haphazard pile of empty boxes and organized book piles, my heart breathes with the room I’ve created by tackling the monster that is everything Mrs. Elkins stored in this apartment for the last who knows how long.

The couch is soft and springy as I flop onto it, taking a well–deserved break. Selene’s ears perk up at my sudden display of enthusiasm, but she doesn’t move, content to rest by the front door, which happens to be one of the few places in the living room not covered in something.

“We did it, Selene! We’ve tackled the monster and unpacked it all!”

Well, everything that was in the living room. The kitchen still has a few boxes, and let’s not even talk about the bedroom. But the living room? The living

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room is done, and that’s what matters.

I survey the piles of books scattered around the room, separated by genre. There’s a stack of classics, a pile of contemporary fiction, a few biographies, and even a small collection of poetry. The biggest pile by far, though, is near and dear to my heart. Romance. Tantalizing little bodice–rippers with bare male chests whispering to me, enticing me to flip them open and be drawn into a world of magical, mystical, perfect

men.

I used to read them whenever I had a chance. The

White Peak library was full of them, and I was desperate for any happy ever after I could get my hands on.

They’re a lot less appealing these days.

I rub my chest, frustrated by the ache that likes to poke its head out in my weak moments, and snap a quick photo of the piles to send to Mrs. Elkins.

[AVA: What should I do with all these books?]

Selene seems to realize that I’m done moving for a while and slinks over on her silent paws, jumping beside me. She circles once, twice, then settles down,

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16 Ava: Sottling In (1)

her head resting on my thigh. I scratch behind her soft ears as I wait for Mrs. Elkins‘ response.

My phone buzzes.

already been up there for a decade gathering dust anyway.]

were a luxury. Books were unnecessary, and Mom and Dad weren’t interested in feeding my addiction to fantasy worlds and lives that could take me away from my own, at least for a

now, surrounded by the musty

seem so far–fetched.

I’ve stopped petting

a silly question. As if it was ever an option to get rid of them. Who

I choose to interpret as a yes.

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Ava Settling in

their titles. Some are smooth, others ridged, a few even cracked with age. Each one holds a story, a world waiting to be explored. And

read, mine to cherish, mine to display.

But where?

a critical eye. The walls are bare, save for a few generic paintings that came with the apartment. They’ll have

hold my new

with my steps. The wall opposite the couch could fit a tall bookcase, perfect for the hardcovers. The smaller paperbacks could go on a lower shelf, maybe under the window. And the romance novels? They

that could work.

living room in

inat

14

had a

Settling In (II)

books, ready and waiting to be read. And maybe, just maybe, I could squeeze a small shelf into the bathroom. For those long soaks in the tub, when I want nothing more than to escape

of the shelves. But I’m determined. These books have waited long enough to be read, to be loved. They deserve a home, and I’m going to give them

couch, her blue eyes curious. “What do

then lets out a

bark.

shopping, of crisp white bookshelves and the colorful

color. It would be

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Settling In (1)

and a dip in my belly as reality sets in. Bookshelves cost money. Money that I don’t have in

onto the couch, my enthusiasm gone. Happy Ava is gone, and regular

comfort.

and saving for school

a car, once I’m settled in classes, things will

piles on the floor is almost painful. They deserve better. They deserve a proper home.

building a better life. People turning old crates into rustic shelves, repurposing ladders into

thᴇ Find ɴøᴠel.nᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early

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Ava: Settling in (1)

that.” I sit up again, staring at my walls. It can’t be that hard, can it? I can

ears perk up at the excitement in my