HUNTING ADELINE ( BOOK - 1 )
chapter 1 ( part - 3 )
I press my thumb into the up arrow and don’t stop until the temperature is set to seventy-four. I don’t mind cooler temperatures, but I’d prefer it if my nipples didn’t cut through all of my clothing.
I Turn back around and face a home that’s both old and new—a home that’s housed my heart since I could remember, even if my body left for a little while.
And then I smile, basking in the gothic glory of Parsons Manor. It’s how my great-grandparents decorated the house, and the taste has passed down through the generations. Nana used to say that she liked it best when she was the brightest thing in the room. Despite that, she still had
old people’s taste.
I mean, really, why do those white throw pillows have a border of lace around them and a weird, embroidered bouquet of flowers in the middle?
That’s not cute. That’s ugly.
ADELINE REILLY/FL
“Well, Nana, I came back. Just like you wanted,” I whisper to the dead
air.
MARIETTA / fl assistant
Are you ready?
ADELINE REILLY/FL
( My personal assistant ask from beside me .I Glance over at Marietta, noting how she’s absently holding out the mic to me, her
attention ensnared on the people still filtering into the small building. )
This local bookstore wasn’t built for a large number of people, but somehow,
they’re making it work anyway.
Hordes of people are piling into the cramped space, converging in a uniform line, and waiting for the signing to start. My eyes rove over the crowd, silently counting my head. I lose count after thirty.
ADELINE REILLY/FL
" Yep," I say. I grab the mic, and after catching everyone’s attention, the
murmurs fade to silence.
Dozens of eyeballs bore into me, creating a flush all the way to my cheeks. It makes my skin crawl, but I love my readers, so I power through it.
ADELINE REILLY/FL
“Before we start, I just wanted to take a quick second to thank you all for coming. I appreciate each and every one of you, and I’m incredibly excited to meet you all. Everyone ready?!” I ask, forcing excitement into my tone.
It’s not that I’m not excited, I just tend to get incredibly awkward during book signings. I’m not a natural when it comes to social interactions. I’m the type to stare dead into your face with a frozen smile after being asked a question while my brain processes the fact that I didn’t even hear the question. It’s usually because my heart is thumping too loud in my ears.
I Settle down in my chair and ready my sharpie. Marietta runs off to handle other matters, shooting me a quick good luck. She’s witnessed my mishaps with readers and has the tendency to get secondhand embarrassment with me. Guess it’s one of the downfalls of representing a social pariah.
Come back, Marietta. It’s so much more fun when I’m not the only one getting embarrassed.
The first reader approaches me, my book The Wanderer, in her hands with a beaming smile on her freckled face.
reader
Oh my god, it’s so awesome to meet you!” she exclaims
Nearly shoving the book in my face. Totally a me move.
I smile wide and gently take the book.
ADELINE REILLY/FL
hey, Team Freckles,” I
tack on, waving my forefinger between her face and mine.
reader
She gives a bit
of an awkward laugh, her fingers drifting over her cheeks.
ADELINE REILLY/FL
What’s your
name?” I rush out, before we get stuck on a weird conversation about skin conditions.
Geez, Addie, what if she hates her freckles?
reader
Megan , she replies, and then spells the name out for me
ADELINE REILLY/FL
( My hand trembles as I carefully write out her name and a quick appreciation note. )
ADELINE REILLY/FL
( My signature is sloppy, but that pretty much represents the entirety of my
existence. )
ADELINE REILLY/FL
( I Hand the book back and thank her with a genuine smile. )
As the next reader approaches, pressure settles on my face. Someone is staring at me. But that’s a fucking stupid thought because everyone is staring at me.
I Try to ignore it, and give the next reader a big ass smile, but the feeling only intensifies until it feels like bees are buzzing beneath the surface of my
skin while a torch is being held to my flesh. It’s… it’s unlike anything I’ve felt before. The hairs on the back of my neck rise, and I feel the apples of my
cheeks heating to a bright red.
Half of my attention is on the book I'm signing and the gushing reader, while the other half is on the crowd. My eyes subtly sweep the expanse of the bookstore, attempting to scope out the source of my discomfort without making it obvious.
My gaze hooks on a lone person standing in the very back. A man. The crowd shrouds the majority of his body, only bits of his face peeking through the gaps between people’s heads. But what I do see has my hand
stilling, mid-write.
His eyes. One so dark and bottomless, it feels like staring into a well. And the other, an ice blue so light, it’s nearly white, reminding me of a husky’s eyes. A scar slashes straight down through the discolored eye, as if it didn’t already demand attention.
When a throat clears, I jump, snatching my eyes away and looking back to the book. My sharpie has been resting in the same spot, creating a big black ink dot.
ADELINE REILLY/FL
“Sorry,” I mutter, finishing off my signature. I reach over and snag a
bookmark, sign that too, and tuck it in the book as an apology.
The reader beams at me, mistake already forgotten, and scurries off with
her book.
ADELINE REILLY/FL
( When I look back to find the man, he’s gone. )
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