#PictaBook

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Jules Rose took a sip of his red wine and scrolled through his PictaBook feed. There were several new books, and he made a note of checking if they’d be available to order for the library where he worked. Not all books were, especially not in niche genres.

The speech bubble in the right hand corner showed someone had commented or liked one of his reviews. It had turned to green. Jules’ heart sped up.

He liked PictaBook because it was simple, and it was about books, so what was not to like? But the main reason he liked it was because no one tried to interact with him. He had approved no one for personal messages, and he’d searched a long time for a way to remove people’s ability to comment on his reviews, but apparently there was no such option.

Staring at the green speech bubble, he blew out a breath and tapped on it. SexyDoornail69 has liked your review of The Empty Egg. Jules frowned. He couldn’t remember that book, and wanted to get back to the one he was reading.

Closing PictaBook, he opened his reading app, took another sip of wine, and popped a piece of chocolate into his mouth. He loved Friday nights—wine, chocolate, and a book were all he needed in life.

As he was about to open the book, another notification from PictaBook showed at the top. SexyDoornail69 commented on your review. It stayed there for a few seconds before it disappeared, leaving the screen free of interruptions. Damn.

For too long, Jules held his breath. He didn’t want anyone to comment on his reviews, but it would be rude not to reply, wouldn’t it?

He opened PictaBook again and clicked on the speech bubble. SexyDoornail69 had commented on The Empty Egg. Jules went to check. The picture he’d uploaded was of a lumberjack, and the hashtags he’d used were: #MMRomance #Contemporary #Lumbersexual #OppositesAttract #EstablishedCouple #Fetish #DualPOV #ShortAndSweet #BonerWorthy.

Ah, he remembered it now, but it had been years since he’d read it. A blush crawled up his cheeks as he read the comment, and he quickly took a sip of wine to calm down.

SexyDoornail69: Hi, ReadingInACorner! Love the hashtags. How boner worthy are we talking?

Jules took a long, deep breath, and hit the reply arrow.

ReadingInACorner: Read it and find out, though read the first book in the series first.

He closed the app and put away the phone as if it had burned his fingers. Standing, he righted his glasses and took more deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Booksy, his beloved, super lazy and slightly murderous cat, was resting in his usual spot on the windowsill in the bedroom, and Jules went to pick him up.

Booksy wasn’t the cuddly kind. Jules had gotten him from a shelter two years ago, only days after having moved in, and the scars on his ears and face spoke of a harsh life. They deemed him to be around three years old when Jules had adopted him. The hostile glare Booksy had given everyone who passed him, had made Jules pick him over all the other cuter, more social, well-behaved kittens.

Booksy was a kindred soul, and they understood each other. Neither of them liked people, neither of them liked to be cornered, and neither of them liked conversations.

“Don’t you want to join me by the TV?” He met Booksy’s narrowed eyes. The slow twitch of his tail said no, he did not want to join Jules by the TV, but he did nothing to get out of Jules’ embrace.

“Some i***t is trying to talk to us. Don’t they know we only talk during office hours?” He patted Booksy’s head and chuckled when he yawned. His muscles unclenched, and he put Booksy back on the windowsill, patting him again. “Thank you, love. I needed a cuddle.”

He went back into the small living room in time to see the screen light up with a new notification from PictaBook. He sent Booksy a panicked look. What happened to their calm, quiet Friday night?

For about a minute, he stood stock-still, unable to move forward. Then he went to grab the phone. He didn’t have to check it, but if he didn’t, he’d worry about it all night. Briskly, he tapped the speech bubble icon. SexyDoornail69 had commented again.

SexyDoornail69: If I did, would I appear smart?

Smart? Jules wasn’t naïve enough to think the sixty-nine in his username meant his age or birth year, but was he talking to a child? He straightened his back. Book recommendations he could do, it was what he worked with, and since he was in charge of the library’s school collaborations, he’d read a lot of YA books—a lot.

ReadingInACorner: Perhaps this isn’t the book for you. What kind of books do you enjoy?

He stood staring at his message for several minutes before he clicked the post arrow and reached for his wine.

The reply came instantly.

SexyDoornail69: I don’t enjoy books at all, but I need to learn, or at least read one or two.

One or two? For school? The Empty Egg was not a book suitable for a school project. It was tempting to ignore the comment and get back to his book, wine, and chocolate, but helping people find books they liked was something he was passionate about. If he could do it through an app and never have to meet them in person, it was all the better.

Next workplace meeting, he’d suggest the library create an account. He could run it. He’d suggest it as part of their youth program. He could set up an account for YA books only.

Sighing, he sank down into his armchair and stared at the wall. He opened PictaBook again.

ReadingInACorner: If you want recommendations, I’m sure your local library can help.

He hesitated, his heart hammering hard enough to hurt in his chest. This was his private account. If his supervisor agreed to create an account for the library, he could chat with people as part of his job. But this—this was for his own pleasure. With a deep breath, he added: Or you can PM me.

Damn! He stared at the posted comment. Could he delete it before SexyDoornail69 read it?

The speech bubble lit up with green, and when he tapped it, there was a request from SexyDoornail69 to be allowed to send private messages.

Jules stared. He could still decline, only he was the one who’d suggested it. Carelessly, he tossed the phone on the coffee table and stood. Booksy swished his tail as if he could sense Jules’ unease, and he hurried up to the window sill in the bedroom and ran a hand over Booksy’s soft fur.

“We might have made a mistake there, Booksy. What if our quiet evenings are forever ruined now?”

Booksy gave him a lazy blink, and Jules dropped his shoulders. “You’re right, we can always delete the account and start over.” He frowned. “Do you think we can download all our reviews? It would be a hassle to do them all again, it would take ages. Not to mention, I’m not sure we can find all the pictures again.”

He stroked Booksy a couple of times while staring out into the dark February night. “Tomorrow, we’ll migrate, as a precaution. We have all day and lots of coffee at hand. We can do it, Booksy.” He nodded and went back into the living room.