Chapter 6

Three sudden taps penetrated Genevieve's dream causing her to jolt awake.

"Morning!" A voice called from beyond the door.

Genevieve dragged herself out of the bed, groggily pulling her body to the door.

"Who is it?" She asked.

"It's me, silly." Was all she got in response. Still hazy from being woken up so suddenly, Genevieve opened the door. It was Camila with a couple coffees and brown paper bag in hand. She was wearing a short white tennis skirt and a large brown sweatshirt with the neckline cut out. It draped around her shoulders loosely; the hair that sat on her collar bone did a better job at covering her shoulders than the sweatshirt.

"I got you breakfast. You seem like the almond croissant type." Satisfied, Camila pushed the treat into Genevieve's hands before inviting herself inside. She plopped herself comfortably on the bed, dangling her feet in the air.

"Did you just wake up?" Camila asked, turning herself to rest on her side. "We had plans." A small pout formed on her face as she stared Genevieve down.

"I know. I sleep late. I didn't realize you meant this early. Give me twenty minutes, give or take." Genevieve went to rummage through the drawer for clothes.

"Ok. I'll wait." Camily turned back onto her stomach, continuing to kick her feet.

Genevieve sighted, but said nothing, retreating into the shower. She emerged ten minutes later with her hair freshly washed, curls wound tight.

"Bitch hurry. Who takes ten minute showers?" Camila sighed, picking at her nails.

"I would peg you as the type." Genevieve retorted. "You're always… too put together not to shower for a half hour."

"Babe," Camila looked up from her nails. "If I did that, my skin would be so dry."

Genevieve chortled. "Yeah, no you're right. That seems a lot more like you. Anyways, I need you out so I can change." Genevieve had grabbed the clothes she had laid out on her bed pre shower.

"I don't mind. Why, are you shy or something? It's just us in here." Camila stared Genevieve down.

Sighing again, Genevieve grabbed her clothes and once again backed into the bathroom, holding Camila's gaze until she shut the door.

"This girl." Genevieve thought. "Do I attract crazy people or… what is in the air around here?"

Coming out of the bathroom for the second time, Genevieve donned a low cut green cable knit sweater and high waisted brown slacks.

"Cute," Camila said, looking Genevieve up and down. "Alright, let's go." She grabbed her stuff, motioning and the coffee and croissant she had left on the bed for Genevieve earlier.

"Where are we going?" Genevieve grabbed her breakfast. "I'm not just going to blindly follow you around town all day."

"Well first of all, it was you who was supposed to show me around town today." Camily threw back. "But don't worry, I know a place."

They ended up at Amos's Books, Antiques, and Taxidermy.

"This is your place?" Genevieve questioned with a small laugh. "You know for someone with a personality like yours, I expected something more grand, hm… more classy."

"Guess you don't know me as well as you thought, stranger." Camila playfully rolled her eyes, pushing open the door. This time, the open sign remained in its place hanging on the door.

"How do you even know about this place? You told me you hadn't gotten a change to see anywhere in town yet." Genevieve inquired.

"So my shop is just anywhere now? And here I thought we were friends." Amos appeared in front of them. "Back so soon, anxious traveller?"

"Morning!" Camila piped up. "For you." The coffee she had been nursing since she had given Genevieve hers passed from her hands and into those of a stunned Amos. She slid past him, aiming for a shelf of records in the distance and settled herself on the floor beside it, rummaging for the record she wanted.

"I'm sorry about her, she thinks if she gives you a coffee it erases whatever she does after. I mean it kind of works." Genevieve laughed.

"Ah, no worries. I met this one yesterday. She came in sometime in the late evening asking for directions; stuck around for a long time. I sense she's always been interesting like this." Amos caught Camila's gaze, and the two looked at each other for a moment before he looked back to Genevieve. "How are you this morning, anxious traveller?"

"Genevieve." Geneveive leaned in awkwardly. "My name. It's Genevieve."

Amos waved his hand. "Names aren't who we are, why restrict ourselves to a label pushed on us by our parents? It's all arbitrary. Not this though, I see who you really are, through all of the unnecessary stuff society puts on us." He smiled, poking Genevieve in the chest lightly.

"Who am I then, if not Genevieve?" She stepped back, out of his reach.

Amos let out a hearty chuckled. "You, my friend are the most anxious person I have ever seen around these parts. Thus, anxious traveller."

"Shit man." Genevieve sighed, submitting to Amos's evaluation. "Can't argue with that thought process. What's Camila then?"

"Irritating." Amos shrugged. "Wonderful, but by God the girl is irritating, and I've known her for barely a day. I can't imagine what the people in her life think."

"I think we're the people in her life now." Genevieve said, glancing over at Camila. She had emptied the shelf onto the floor, the heap of records resting on her lap as she sorted them into separate piles.

"I guess we are." Amos followed Genevieve's eyes to Camila, and the two of them watched her sort the records for several minutes. The air was full of the musty smell of the taxidermied animals, a smell nobody in the present company found unpleasant. The crinkling sound of the plastic wrap of the records occupied the room, accompanied by the soft papery thuds of the discs landing into the appropriate piles. Genevieve and Amos continued to look at Camila, whose skirt begun to slide up her leg, pushed out of place by the evergrowing mound of records she continued to pull of the shelves and sort.

"Your record organization is fucking awful Amos. Like, what is this? You can't put classic rock next to some weird country record. Do you even try?"

Camila looked up, holding the records she was so enthusiastically discussing. She was slightly out of breath and red from her agitation and the poor organization. The morning sunlight was streaming through the window, and her hair almost seemed to be on fire. The caramel of her skin glowed in the light, accented by the freckles that were dispersed across her face and shoulders. The sweatshirt she had on slid even further down her left shoulder as when she turned to hold up the records, revealing a light pink bra strap under it.

Camila's hands faltered, supporting the weight of the records for longer than she had anticipated.

"Are you guys just going to stare at me or….? What even…" Camila stood, dusting herself off. "Amos! Please for fuck's sake, fix this. How can I shop here if I don't know where to find anything?"

Amos laughed. "She definitely has a screw loose." He turned to Genevieve. "That is all you."

Genevieve blushed and looked down, rocking on her heels. "What does that even mean, 'all me?'"

Amos laughed again, giving Genevieve a healthy smack on the back before approaching the pile of records Camila had sorted on the floor.

"I have them sorted by genre and artist, alphabetically. You should really hire me. Anyways," She turned to Genvieve. "We've got to go Gen. We've still got to hit up the spring, and then lunch…." Camila's voice trailed off, mouth still moving with the plans she had been concocting for the rest of the day.

"Gen?" Amos probed.

"Don't ask." Genevieve sighed, lightly shoving the still daydreaming Camila out of the door. "Thank you Amos. Let me know about that shipment of books, I'll stop by."

Camila jolted out of her thoughts, popping up and yelling at Amos, "Have a nice day!" before Genevieve fully pushed her out the door.