A Series of Events Part 2

As I dust the bookshelf in my living room, Mansfield Park catches my eye. I stand there for a moment, remembering. My finger traces down the spine and I slip it out of it's spot on the shelf.

My mind travels back to that day. It was a long time ago, but it feels fresh in my memory. It was my second run-in with Matt. After coffee on that rainy day in mid-May, he had asked for my number, but I didn't give it to him. I knew he wasn't my type, and besides, I wasn't the type to give my number out to boys I'd just met. Plus, I believed in that thing they call Fate, and because of that, I believed that if we were supposed to meet again, we would.

I was right.

I'm here again. I find myself in the same bookstore. It isn't raining this time, though.
I'm trying to find a specific book, Mansfield Park, but I've looked everywhere and I just can't find it. I know it must be here. I mean this is a bookstore, after all,  and Jane Austen is practically famous.
I'm on my way to customer service when I hear a voice ask, "Can I help you find anything today, Miss?" I turn around. It's him. Again. He recognizes me immediately. It's been a couple months since we had coffee on that day when the rain forced us together.
For a minute I'm so surprised at seeing him that I don't say anything. I didn't know he worked here. He looks at me expectantly. Right. The book. Finally I say, "Actually, yes. I'm trying to find Mansfield Park by Jane Austen. Do you know where that is?" He smiles, his green eyes almost glittering. "Of course," he says. "It's right over here." I follow him to the exact isle I'd just come from. He knows precisely where it is. Maybe I need new glasses. I could have sworn I looked up and down this entire isle.
As he hands me the book, his hand brushes lightly against mine. Did he do that on purpose? I chance a look at his face. Smiling, of course.
"Is there anything else I can help you with?" He says it in a way that sounds completely genuine; not at all like he's saying it because he's required to. I take a moment to study him. His blond hair is pulled back into a ponytail with a few strands hanging down around his face. He's wearing a green apron over a purple t-shirt and jeans with massive holes in the knees. Classy.
"Nope, that'll do it. Thanks for your help," I say. I shoot him a quick smile and then turn to go.
"Bailey. Wait!" I stop, sigh, and turn back around. He just stands there staring at me for a second. Taking a deep breath, he says, "Don't you think it's kinda funny that we're meeting again?" His eyebrows are raised slightly, and his eyes seem to almost plead with me to consider the fact. It's not that I don't want to have anything to do with him. I don't even know him. I'm sure he's probably a nice enough guy, and I suppose it never hurts to make new friends. But I guess I'm just a little wary of people. It takes me a while to warm up to someone new. I don't trust easily. 
"Matt," I begin, and he must hear something in my voice, something that hints at what I'm thinking, because he cuts me off. He says, "Before you say anything, just hear me out, alright? I don't think it's coincidence that we've run into each other again so soon. I don't have any kind of expectations. I just want to be friends. Everybody needs some of those, right?" He smiles then and it makes me feel more comfortable. A bit more at ease. I smile back.
"You're right. Everyone does need friends." He flips his head to the side, even though his hair is pulled back. The loose strands shift slightly, but other than that it doesn't make much of a difference. I shake my head. What's the point of that? Habit, I suppose.
"So," he says, making eye contact. "Some friends and I are going bowling this weekend. Come and hang out. You can bring someone if you want." I consider his offer. It might be nice to actually have contact with the outside world for a change. "Okay. I might stop by. I have to warn you though. I am a terrible bowler." A half smile reaches my lips. His form a whole one. He doesn't seem like the kind of person to do anything half way.
"That's completely alright. I'm awful too. But it's fun! I hope you decide to come. It'll be Saturday at 6. I uh, I better get back to work now. It was nice seeing you again, Bailey." He looks sincere. Why do I always question everyone's sincerity? Why can't I trust that what they say is true? But I'm reminded, again, that so often, it's not.