PART TWO | TURNIN' GERMAN
(cw's for this chapter: swearing, mentions of making out, german people)

"OKAY, MAN. NO funny business. This is a very serious operation. I need you to be on your best behaviour."

Emmerich blinked up at his older cousin and the building they were in front of. "Isn't this . . . a bookstore?"

Conner Bailey and his curly-haired German cousin were standing in front of Page-Turners again. It was an overcast day outside and a strong wind was screwing up Conner's hair. Not that he spent time on it or anything. He most definitely did not.

"It is, actually, and you're only here because Conner wants to impress his girlfriend with a cute kid."

Conner's whole face flared up. Emmerich, bless him, looked as thoroughly confused as ever. "Will you shut up, man?" Conner turned around and shot his other unwanted companion a very harsh glare.

Arthur had driven them here. After last night babysitting Emmerich Arthur took the opportunity to stay over too, just so he could give Conner a wet willie and make out with Alex in her bedroom. Conner had been on Emmerich duty alone. Luckily, the kid was a pretty good listener and surprisingly insightful for a twelve year-old.

"So, if you like this girl and she likes you, why don't you just tell her?" Emmerich asked over cartoons in the living room.

Conner took a sip from his juice box. (Fruit punch, his favourite.) "She doesn't like me. I met her yesterday."

"But you like her?"

He blushed. "I mean, no, I don't like her, I talked to her for five minutes. She's just nice. And cool. And I like her . . . writing."

"Is that supposed to mean something else I don't get?"

Now, the two of them (and Arthur) were staring up at the pretty black lettering and sunny steps. Conner's stomach started twisting at the thought of the girl from yesterday. He couldn't explain it—she'd only talked to him for about five minutes and ever since, all he could do was ache for more. He wanted to know her. She looked fascinating, with wild hair tucked beneath a beanie with those stripes of pink and blue, and her almond eyes trailing over him like she knew something he didn't.

"I'll back in an hour," Arthur said, swinging his keyring in his hands.

"Where are you going?" Emmerich asked.

"Fencing practice," Arthur replied as he slid into the black leather seat of his car. Conner forgot sometimes that Arthur was like, filthy rich. His dad died and left him a bunch of money and now he lived in this huge house with his old crazy uncle.

"I hope you die!" Conner shouted as he drove off. He glared doubtfully and turned back to Emmerich. "Do you think he heard me?"

His cousin just looked at him with those wide, unblinking eyes. "I don't think you're a very good influence on me."

Conner ignored the feeling of betrayal and dragged Emmerich up into the store. His heart was pounding in his chest. Why was he nervous? Why was he here? This was stupid.

The bell chimed and it dialled his nerves up to eleven. For a second he expected his dad's bookstore again. The warm, woody tones and green-gold carpet. The massive armchair he used to slouch into when he had a bad day. Those gentle eyes behind the desk, always crinkled at the corners and full of mischief. They were still there, burned into his mind, although a little different now. In some ways, Conner thought they were the same—the brown flecks, the wryness, the intelligence of it all. But there was something about them he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Then he realized he'd been staring at the girl he met yesterday square in the eyes for a concerning amount of time. Oh.

"Um, hi," she said, darting her gaze away. Her little smile was back again. Her hair was still the same, and so was her name tag, but today there was a small bit of eyeliner fanning out from her lashes. He also thought her lips were shinier. Not that he was looking. Or caring. Or looking again.

"Hello!" Emmerich piped and Conner startled. He almost forgot his cousin was here.

"Hi," she greeted politely, shuffling a stack of books neatly to the corner of the desk. "Back again?"

Conner briefly glanced around. It was busier today, and a couple people in black shirts and name tags like Bree were chatting with customers. "I, uh, I guess so, yeah," he said sheepishly. Already, he could feel his cheeks burning and his neck turning red. She was so pretty! In such a mysterious, effortless, and kind of scary way. He sucked at talking to girls, and definitely not ones he thought were attractive.

Her eyes were on him again and he thought he was on fire. It was like she could see everything, all of him, without even trying. He crossed his arms over his chest so she wouldn't see through his skin and uncover how strangely his heart was beating. She left the counter, circling towards them, soft wings of her eyeliner reminding him of a falcon. "You guys need any help finding anything?"

Emmerich looked to Conner before he could respond. There was that hopeful look on his face he always played up when he wanted something. Conner sighed, patting his hair, "Your mom said you could get any book you want. She'll pay me back when she picks you up, okay?"

He gave him a toothy smile. "Can I get a Batman comic?"

"Knock yourself out."

Emmerich squealed almost indignantly for a twelve year-old and bounded off without a word. Conner grew very aware that he was alone with Bree again, and he hoped she wouldn't go do her job and help him.

It was a goddamn miracle because she stayed, corners of her mouth tilted up. "Cute kid."

"Thanks," he smiled. Wow, the kid card really works! "He's my cousin. They moved here from Germany a while back so we babysit him a lot when his mom has work."

"Ooh, German? I'm German!" Bree grinned, and he noticed that this was the first time he'd seen her fully smile. Before it was always something coy, like she was withholding it from him.

Her enthusiasm was contagious. "Really? Do you speak it?"

"Not really, but I understand it." She chewed on the inside of her cheek for a second. "Ich bin ein Hund."

He blinked. "Huh?"

"I am a dog," she translated. "My grandmother made my grandpa say it all the time."

"Oh," he swallowed. "Lovely."

They stood awkwardly for a few seconds. Conner was struggling to find something to say. He felt like an idiot. Here he was in his dead dad's bookstore fantasizing and blushing over a girl he'd spent a total of ten minutes with. He wanted to say it was just attraction, probably, that would wash over him as quickly as it went. Although a part of him hoped it was different.

He remembered his father's eyes again. How they were so closely twined with this place that he could feel them on him even now. A part of him still lived in here, Conner was sure of it. And now one of the people to take up his father's helm had a glint so familiar Conner confused her eyes with his.

"You bring me any writing?" Bree asked, hand leaning back on a cherry-wood table carrying small stacks of books with a sign that said: NEW RELEASES!

For a second, he wrinkled his brows. Then he recalled the conversation yesterday, and to be honest, he thought she had been joking with him. Did she actually want to see his writing? Like, read it? He skimmed through her short story yesterday and it was pretty impressive—he wasn't sure anything he could ever write was up to par. "Oh, no, sorry," he apologized sheepishly. "Most of my stuff is like, bad, anyways, so."

"I'm sure that's not true," she said instantly. She was smiling still, the usual tight-lipped one. "You seem like a pretty smart guy. And nobody in this town writes, so you're all I've got."

He couldn't help the flutter in his ribs. A lopsided smile spread across his face. "You think I'm smart?"

Okay, Conner might be crazy, but for a split second of pure, golden hope, he though she'd looked a little off-guard. Flustered, even. "Well, yeah," she shrugged, giving him a once-over. It made his toes feel fuzzy. "I mean, you've got nice style. That's promising."

Conner looked down at himself. All he was wearing today was a blue crewneck with a collared shirt underneath and a pair of jeans. It didn't seem like anything riveting, but the fact that she liked it made him never want to wear anything else again. He fully expected himself to stutter again or just make a garbled noise back, but surprisingly, he leant forwards just a little bit and words tumbled out. "Elaborate, please."

He was learning to read her face a bit better. Her eyes darted away and came back, so minute yet so thrilling. She operated differently than lots of people he knew: she was clean, polished, but not in the way most people liked. She was polished the way the moon, or David Bowie, or an old book was. He couldn't help but want to notice more. He wondered how much you could learn about someone if you invested yourself in every moment.

"Come on, you've seen the way guys our age dress. No purpose? I think it's a good judge of character—a part of writing is the aesthetics of it, right? The way it looks, the way it feels, the way it's presented."

She did something that nearly killed him. Seriously. It was the most terrifying moment of his life. Her fingers touched the collar of his shirt, pulling it down. In the brief moment he could feel her graze over his collarbone, his chest tingled. "You're very presentable," she said, and if it wasn't a public place he would've passed the fuck out.

"I—uh, thank you. I try," he stammered, already missing her skin so close to his. She gave him another tight-lipped smile and ambled off to the bookshelves against the wall. Conner followed her hopelessly, and she didn't even need to look back to know. "I'll bring you something next time, maybe," he said.

Bree ran her fingers over spines of books on the shelves just like she had with Conner's collar. He really wished he was a bookshelf right now. "Sounds good! I've got another submission coming up and I need to get out of my head about it. It's driving me nuts." She laughed a little bit, but her face was taut and she kept staring at the books.

A lightbulb flicked in Conner's head. It was a potentially horrible idea, but the thought of it was enough to drive him to say it. "I could, uh, proofread it if you want!" He said all too eagerly. "You know, give you feedback, or whatever. If you want. You don't have to. I mean, I don't have to. I mean—"

"You'd do that? Seriously?"

God, the way she was looking at him was pure sunshine. Her eyes were bright and the grateful expression that took her over made her look beautiful. He managed to nod, maybe too much. "Y-yeah. Sure."

She smiled a little wider. "That would be great, Conner. Thank you."

Jesus Christ. This was embarrassing. He felt like he was having a heart attack.

She fiddled with a piece of hair as she occupied herself with reorganizing books so she would look busy. "It's all online, though, so I could print a copy and like, bring it here or something, I dunno." There it was again. A bashfulness that slipped through the cracks.

"Or you could text it to me," he blurted.

It took her a little off-guard. It took him off-guard. Why did he say that? Way to jump the gun, Conner!

She blinked for a moment, staring at him. He'd never asked for a girl's number before. He'd never even wanted a girl's number before. If there was ever anyone he needed to text he'd find them through friends or social media or his mother's womb. But the thought of seeing her, talking to her, even when he wasn't here, was exhilarating. Talking to her from home, from his bed, from his kitchen. Having that whenever he wanted. Maybe it would quell this overwhelming infatuation clogging his brain.

"Sure," she replied. He smiled before he could help it. "I'm technically not supposed to use my phone on the clock, but . . ." She fished around in the back pocket of her jeans before pulling out a phone with a case that had a giant purple skull on it. Very on brand. She glanced around to make sure nobody else was watching and slipped her phone to him, already on the messages app. "Type in your number. I'll send it to you."

He tried to ignore the way his thumbs were shaking and how his mind had gone blank. What was his phone number again? Oh God. He stared at the screen for a second before it came back to him and he hastily plugged it in. "Do you want me to put in a, uh, contact name or anything?" He swallowed.

She leaned close to him to see her phone. Her hair brushed against his shoulder. There was a faint smell of paperback books and lavender, and he didn't know where from but he hoped it was her. "I can do it, no worries," she took the phone back into her hands and entered crewneck boy as the contact.

When he gave her a funny look, she shrugged, "I like your crewneck."

She liked his crewneck. Nobody really liked things he had, no matter if it was clothes, or intelligence—both of which Bree had complimented. He already knew he was blushing a dark shade of red, the kind that made his freckles stand out. She chuckled a little at him but it was so soft and so good-natured that he wanted to hear it again. He'd go red for all of time if it made her laugh like that.

His phone pinged in his own pocket. When he drew it out, there was a notification from an unknown number that said: hi :).

"Hi back," he said stupidly. She rolled her eyes with a smile.

They were standing close, Conner noticed. He was leaning against the bookshelf with his elbow and she had her arms crossed, a few inches shorter than him. She was close enough that he could study her the way he wanted to, but he didn't think he'd be able to stare over every plane of her face for hours in this current situation. All he grasped was that there were faint freckles dotting the bridge of her nose—fake or real, he couldn't tell and couldn't care—and that yes, her lips were shinier. And she smelled like books.

He wanted to say something, or do something. Maybe touch the collar of her black uniform shirt like she did his or tell her he liked her eyeliner. Before he gathered an ounce of courage to do any of that, Emmerich Himmelsbach rammed into his hip in a tuft of messy black hair. "Look, look!" He grinned, holding up a thick comic book proudly. "It's limited edition!"

Conner was grumpy that he'd been pulled out of his aloneness with Bree but his cousin was so cute that he couldn't help but smile. "That's great, man!"

Surprisingly, Bree chimed in. "Oh yeah, we only get one of those every two months. It's a steal," she winked. Emmerich's smile grew two sizes and Conner basically swooned.

Emmerich looked between the two of them for a moment. Conner's heart dropped because if his cousin said anything about how much he'd talked about Bree last night he'd be a dead man. Instead, Emmerich used his plump, rosy face to say, "I like your eyeliner!"

Conner's face fell. Nevermind. Somehow, that was worse. Conner liked her eyeliner! He wanted to be the one to tell her that!

"Oh, thanks," she chuckled, smiling wryly. "I heard you were German."

"Yes, I am! Born and raised! Well until like, a year ago."

"I'm German too," she gleamed. "Maybe I should get my Duolingo streak back up so I can keep up with you."

Emmerich looked back at Conner like he was saying Wow, you were right! She is incredible! And Conner looked at him like he was saying Yeah, I know. Get in line.

"And, by the way," she knelt down a bit to look Emmerich in the eyes and Conner could not believe he was feeling jealous of his cousin right now. "We've got another one of those limiteds that comes in every once in a while, too. I'll tell you when it's back in stock."

"Really? You are cool!" Emmerich beamed, and the way he said it made Bree look back at Conner like she was missing something. Because clearly, she was. Her curious, playful smile gave that much away. Thanks, Emmerich.

"Okay, buddy, time to go," Conner patted Emmerich on the back, avoiding Bree's gaze.

Emmerich pouted. "Already?"

"I'll ring you guys up," Bree offered, and they followed her to the front counter.

"She's pretty," Emmerich whispered when she was a good distance in front of them.

Conner shot him a dirty look. "I know. Steal my thunder again and you're paying for this book yourself."

"You had no thunder to steal! You were just staring at her!"

"Shut up!"

They smiled a little too wide when Bree looked back at them and she rang them up smoothly. "That'll be 40.45 please," she smiled a little, like this version of her was playing pretend for them.

"Yeesh, good thing your mom's paying me back," he mumbled, and then fished the money out of his wallet. The bills were crumpled, embarrassingly so, but Bree didn't seem to pay any mind.

"Thanks for shopping with us. We hope to see you again," she winked.

Conner left the shop with a whimsical feeling in his stomach. He couldn't stop the grin floating on his face. "I think that went well," Emmerich hummed, skipping down the steps.

"Yeah," Conner replied, feeling his phone in his back pocket. "It did."

Arthur picked them up about ten minutes later, after Conner bought Emmerich a bagel from the cafe next door. The entire way home Conner stared at his phone, jittery and excited at the knowledge that he had Bree's phone number in the palm of his hand.

Surrendering his rationality, he slid her contact open again and sent her a message: i liked your eyeliner too.

Later that night, as he and his family watched Megamind for the billionth time, his phone pinged. Emmerich was huddled against his side and Alex was squabbling for the popcorn bowl on Conner's lap. He swatted his sister's hand away and reached for his phone.

"You guys have fun today?" She asked, finally munching on popcorn.

"We did!" Emmerich answered earnestly. "Conner's girlfriend is very nice!"

His ears turned pink. "She's not my—whatever." He opened his phone and pressed on the notification. There, he'd just received a text back from a contact named bookstore girl that said: i know ;).

A/N:
part two slay!! i like this one better than pt 1 and i know it's shorter but next chapter will be better; rook comes into the mix and so does my terrifying original character for my rook robins fic! madness ensues! (which is coming very soon so. sneak peak. i love her and them so much like there's just mental instability everywhere) i'm really excited to explore all the relationships in this fic and flesh everyone out ughhhh it's so good

anyways i've been thinking recently and was debating moving this whole book to ao3 instead of here :) not because i want to stop writing it or anything but because this kind of book isn't the one normally found on wattpad and i think it would just do better over there!! obviously people aren't reading this book as much as they used to so i don't think this book really belongs on this platform anymore but moving it to ao3 will still make it as easy to access for everyone and we can still chat in the comments and stuff so :)) tell me what you think because if so what i want to do is make this little mini-series its own complete book published separately from this one for clarity's sake. i am Literally the only person writing fics for this dumb little book series that's over the age of eleven so i feel like i need to spread the word (my game plan is simple conneree spreads far and wide everyone starts loving them and gets mad that they got so little time in the books. it reaches chris colfer he calls me i hold him hostage and force him to write a bree-conner spin-off book where they kiss and bree gets development. i become a hero the end)

on another note the arthur slander last chapter had me LAUGHING i love arthur but i hold a non-personal grudge against him since we saw him make out with alex like fifty times and conner and bree got paid dust so. i'm determined to make a statement on which endgame couple is better bc conneree solos alex and arthur every time and i don't think the author knows that

okay THAT'S ITT tell me what you think about me moving this book over!! if i do i promise it won't be some weirdass obscure thing to find i'll make it just like this one<3 thank you again for reading and i hope you're all well

—perrie