A/N: Not quite sure how I feel about this story, so please let me know what you think!
Heart beating wildly, Hannah smiled at the incredible handsome man who’d just walked into the book store. An Adonis thrown into the midst of her normal world of complaining customers and delayed orders.
“May I help you?” she asked.
He shrugged, turning intensely blue eyes towards her. “I’m looking for a book for class,” he told her.
“Then I guess you’ve come to the right place,” Hannah joked.
The man frowned. “It’s for my English class,” he said. “We’re supposed to read a classic or whatever.”
“Of course. Do you have a preferred author?”
“No, it’s supposed to be a classic. Like old, you know?”
“I… I suppose.” She focused on the way his t-shirt revealed the muscles in his arms.
“I like Wilde,” a voice said, and Hannah looked up again to see a boy in his late teens watching them with curious eyes. He was tall and lanky, with matted brown hair and hazel eyes. He was grinning broadly, and his teeth were a little crooked.
“What?” Adonis asked.
“I like Wilde,” the boy repeated. “Oscar Wilde. His humour is really something quite remarkable.”
“So he’s funny?”
Adonis frowned. “Then I can’t use him,” he dismissed. “I’m supposed to find an old author.”
Hannah smiled up at him. He was so very tall. “Wilde was born in the nineteenth century,” she assured him. “I recommend The Picture of Dorian Gray. I do believe it will qualify as a classic.”
Adonis smiled back at her, revealing a perfect set of pearl-white teeth.
“Then I suppose that’ll have to do,” he said. “Is it long?”
“Not very,” Hannah said. “Would you like me to recommend you something longer?”
“No, but if this Wilde guy has written something really short that’d be awesome.”
“I… Well, he’s written a few plays.”
“But I’m supposed to read a book.” He frowned in the most adorable of ways, and Hannah’s heart practically skipped a beat.
“They’re published as books,” she assured him.
“Oh. That’s stupid. Who wants to read a play?” He looked around, and Hannah noticed the way his eyes lingered on a blonde girl, clearly ogling him. Hannah smiled wider, trying to catch Adonis’ eye once again.
“Do you have a bathroom?” he asked when he finally did look at her, and Hannah quickly pointed him in the right direction, promising him that she would have his book ready for him when he came back.
A soft, half-strangled laughter sounded behind her, and Hannah looked up at the boy she’d happily forgotten. He sobered up slightly when he was brought face to face with her, though his eyes were still dancing merrily.
Hannah quickly looked around to make sure her boss wasn’t around. “Some people would find it rude to laugh at someone else’s expense.”
The boy looked positively delighted. “I tried holding it in, I swear, but come on! ‘I can’t read Wilde if he’s funny. He’s supposed to be old.’ I can’t believe you could keep a straight face!”
“He was perfectly… perfectly reasonable.”
The boy didn’t answer, but merely smiled, and Hannah turned her back to him. “You’re rude,” she told him, secretly delighted that she felt like she could. Somehow she couldn’t fathom this boy complaining over her.
“Then perhaps you should strive to improve.”
“I’d rather not. Who would you recommend?”
“Your favourite author within the world of classics? I know that I like Wilde, and that pretty boy doesn’t like any. Who do you like?”
“If I tell you, will you go away?”
She chose to ignore him, focusing instead on locating the Picture of Dorian Gray, which of course was placed on the wrong shelf. Fixing whatever other misplacements she could find, she ignored the boy who was still so clearly waiting for a response.
“Georgette Heyer,” she finally said, walking to the counter.
“Really? How funny. I would have pecked you for Austen. Or perhaps Brontë.”
“Well, I’m sorry for disappointing you.”
“I’m not disappointed. Which book is your favourite?”
“Regency Buck.” She focused on gift-wrapping the book. It wasn’t a service they usually gave without being specifically asked for it, but she wanted to do something for her blue-eyed Adonis.
“I like Footsteps in the Dark.” He grinned at her.
Hannah looked up from her wrapping. “One of her thrillers? I don’t hear that a lot.”
The boy shrugged, thrusting a hand towards her. “I’m George by the way,” he told her.
She took it. “Hannah,” she said.
“Like the assassin.”
“From the movie Hanna.” He grinned at her. “It suits you.”
“I… thank you,” she said, not sure if she’d just been complimented or insulted. She wanted to make a remark about his name, except Adonis had just returned and so she turned her attention back to him.
“Here’s your book,” she said, smiling as she handed it over.
He smiled at her, and her knees went weak. Somehow she couldn’t quite enjoy the feeling.
“Thank you,” he said. “I just hope I can get through it.” He grinned. “Otherwise I’ll just have to find a summary or whatever online.”
“Yes, that’s… one way to do it.” She tried not seeing the mocking glint in George’s eyes.
“Or perhaps you could tell me what it’s about?” Adonis continued. “We could go grab a beer once you’re off work?”
“I… perhaps.” She wished George would go away. This would be a lot easier without him standing there, looking so bloody amused.
“Perhaps?” Adonis repeated. “What do you mean; perhaps?”
“Well, actually,” George said, leaning forward over the counter, completely dismissing Adonis. “I’ve just asked her out. Thought we could talk about books. Perhaps not quite in the means of summaries though.”
Hannah stared at him. His eyes were very intent and very close. She hadn’t noticed how much green there was in them. Or how his skin freckled ever so slightly.
“Yeah,” she said, dazed.
“You can’t be serious!” Adonis said, and Hannah once again looked into his eyes that were just as blue as before. He was without a doubt the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen.
“I’m sorry,” she lied, once again turning her eyes towards George. He looked like the Trickster himself as he stood there with his easy grin and laughing eyes.
The Trickster had always been her favourite of the Greek Gods anyway.