Dearest, Theodosia
Aaron scanned the rows of shelves, absentmindedly searching for the section from CHE- to CRO- in which to put the book he had in his hand. It was a new donation to the bookstore, and, as it was Aaron's job to categorize and take care of the books that would come to the shop from time to time, he was in charge of finding its alphabetical slot on the shelf.
It was a humble job. However, managing books and checking out customers was a perfect way for Burr to earn some money, and to interact with the kinds of people who came into the well-tended used bookshop. These were the kind of people who could either perfectly match Aaron's meek smile or who could bring something completely new to his attention. Manning the register, shelving books, and exchanging polite smiles were all satisfying to him. Sharing connections with people without the necessity of lengthy conversation— in fact, hardly any conversation at all —was a concept that appealed to Burr. After all, there were few people he found he could feasibly carry a conversation with without growing bored. Or tired. Or irritated.
This thought split into two paths, leading to two people.
Alexander Hamilton was an interesting person. Exhausting, yes. Ambitious, of course. Talkative? There was no question. Under any other circumstances, Burr would find Hamilton positively obnoxious. Strangely enough, though... He didn't mind Hamilton, in small enough doses. In fact, he and Alexander seemed to have developed a rather solid friendship. Burr had taken to seeking out Hamilton in between classes or after lunch, times when he knew he could fit in a small conversation without having to worry about Alex talking his ear off. It was a good arrangement; Hamilton was the kind of person Burr could talk to because of the level of intelligence they shared.
Why not admit it? Aaron found his friendship with this fiery, non-stop, unhesitant, reckless, immigrant prodigy to be a pretty decent addition to his life.
If only Burr could keep adding.
His thoughts shifted quickly to the other person, the all-too-common subject of his attention and thought. Theodosia Bartow.
It was just Burr's luck that he'd find himself falling hard for the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and the most charming mind he'd ever had the honor of knowing. It was just Burr's luck that he'd find himself in love with the girl who was taken, and the girl who would never not be taken. It was just Burr's luck that he'd find himself hopelessly, helplessly, and endlessly in love with Theodosia, the girl who was always just beyond his reach.
It truly didn't matter how hard Aaron tried, the most he could ever do was flirt and hint and wait. He had their notes to one another, though; a tradition they shared where each exchanged a letter— however brief —daily, around lunchtime (neither wrote brief letters). But this was all he had to look forward to, or to even be able to count on. He was willing to wait for her, he would do anything for her. But something about Alex's advice sent a current through him. He wanted to go for it. He didn't want to wait any longer. But he knew how that went; he flirted and she reciprocated and they moved closer together, but when Aaron's heart was almost in her hands and when her lips were almost on his, there her boyfriend was, stopping them from five towns away. There he always was, keeping him from Theodosia and keeping him waiting for her.
There wasn't anything he wouldn't do to be with her. And at the moment, that meant waiting.
The small ring of the bell above the door signified someone's entry, and Burr snapped out of his thoughts, looking up with his usual polite smile of greeting.
And speak— er, think —of the devil.
"Aaron! I was hoping I'd gotten your shift right. Three to six-thirty, right?" Theodosia stood before him, leaning over the counter. Her hair, chestnut brown, was pulled over one shoulder, and there was a delighted shine in her eyes. Aaron returned her grin coolly, ignoring his heart's leaping in his chest.
"You've got it memorized, it would appear."
"Absolutely. I think it's in the back of my wallet." Theo tilted her head, leaning her elbow on the counter.
Aaron didn't want his thoughts to wander to wondering whether or not her gaze mirrored his in adoration.
"I shudder to think what else might be in there, then."
"You know, so do I. It might be a bad idea to look, though."
Aaron laughed. "Why's that?"
"Oh, you know," she squinted at him in a look of mock sincerity, "Big secrets."
"Perhaps it wouldn't be wise to look through that thing in public, then."
"Oh, don't worry, Aaron, it's only a couple unauthorized headshots of you."
"Only a couple? I'm disappointed!"
"Don't be, they're almost as cute as the real thing." This was Theo, her flirtation always a step ahead, but without guarantee, its momentum was to be taken with caution. She took a piece of neatly folded paper out of her pocket, quickly unfolding it. Aaron recognized it as his letter to her from this morning. "I couldn't help but notice in your letter today..."
"Yeah?"
Theo leaned over the counter, directing Aaron's attention to a single line towards the bottom of the letter. "You'd suggested that I see you very rarely outside of school."
"Well, it's unavoidable, you do have Jacques."
Theo shrugged, and Burr noticed a stiffness set in her now upon mention of Jacques Prevost. Her boyfriend. "He isn't standing in my way." She paused. "I figured, reading your letter there, I wanted to see you more often, too."
He knew he was in dangerous waters. He trudged deeper. "I appreciate you taking the time to come see me today, then."
Theo folded the letter up again, slowly putting it back in her pocket. "The pleasure is mine."
Aaron Burr was a thinker, and, as Theodosia shifted her weight to her other elbow and blinked at him with this sweet smile that he wasn't entirely sure she knew she was wearing, he was thinking harder than many would have thought was necessary. All the traffic in his brain was suddenly caused by an onslaught of variations of Hamilton's advice.
Try for the girl, Aaron. Go for it. What are you waiting for? What are you waiting for? What are you waiting for?
"I'd love to take you out sometime, Theodosia."
There. Aaron Burr. Action.
Theo's smile grew, a slow change in expression. She leaned further forward. "I would love that an awful lot."
Aaron grinned, the adrenaline rush he had suddenly fallen victim to rushing full-force to the muscles in his face. And apparently his hands, too, as he reached out, taking Theo's left hand, and pressing a quick kiss to her knuckles.
"How about I pick you up at quarter-to-seven tomorrow?" Burr suggested.
"That would be lovely!" Theo's enthusiasm encouraged him.
Jacques be damned, Theodosia was his. At least for tomorrow evening, at six-forty-five.
"Then it's a date."
"It is a date," she confirmed.
What was that feeling? Could it possibly be Aaron, melting, right there at the counter? Who knew a person could make him feel like that.
Theodosia glanced at the clock above Aaron's head, suddenly standing up straight and muttering a quiet "shit" under her breath.
"What's the matter?"
"Jacques. He's coming to get me now. He hasn't seen me in two weeks, and now he's almost here..." She trailed off, looking less than happy.
"Oh."
"I'll be ready for you tomorrow, Aaron," Theo flashed him a quick smile, hesitating before letting go of his hand.
"I'll see you tomorrow," Burr smiled back at her and watched, starstruck, as his— was she his date? — date walked out of the shop, the little bell above the door ringing again.
It was rare that Aaron felt he didn't have control over himself. He often felt he was the one thing in his life he could control.
So, as he took out his dark green notebook— which he used as his planner and journal two-in-one —and scrawled down the time and date he'd asked Theodosia on a date, as well as the time said date was scheduled for, he was sure to make note of the unfamiliar feeling that had now set his heart aflame. He needed only to write one word to encapsulate this emotion.
Helpless.