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The idea of letting anyone into the locked back room of his bookstore should be daunting. For eight years, since the day his parents left Siren Cove, there's been a deadbolt on the door and Joel possesses the only key. The only time the door is unlocked is the few seconds it takes for him to open the door and step inside, but for the first time, he's about to not only unlock it and leave it unlocked, but invite someone inside with him. It should make him nervous, he thinks, but it doesn't.
And he knows exactly why it doesn't.
Casting a glance back over his shoulder, he smiles at Spencer before he locks the front door of the store, then digs his keys out of his pocket. He still wants to be safe, he doesn't want any customers wandering in while he and Spencer are working in the back because he still feels like he needs to be selective in who knows that he's a witch. It's not information he wants to be spreading around Siren Cove, even if three people have found out in the past month. Though that really doesn't bring the total number up that high, it's still left him feeling a little exposed, a little vulnerable, and while he's more than happy to show Spencer this part of his life, he really wants it to remain between the two of them.
He unlocks the back room, holding the door open wide for Spencer to go through and he leaves the door open, letting some light in as he feels along the wall until his fingers hit the light switch. Because he's had the windows blocked off for years, he's made an effort to put nice lighting into the room and has kept it meticulously organized, a far cry from the state of his shop and even his apartment upstairs. He's not a messy person, exactly, but he knows it's impossible to call his shop anything but a disaster and his apartment is clean, but with the books he piles on nearly every available surface, it's easy for the place to look cluttered.
The back room, though, is well-maintained. The surfaces are bare and clean, his stock is carefully labelled and shelved, and his books line only one wall, organized in order of magic type, then alphabetical. The more dangerous books are in a locked case near the back of the room. It looks more like a lab than anything, vials and beakers lined up on their shelves, a bunsen burner sitting with its hose coiled around the base near the gas line.
"So, this is it," he says, taking his glasses out of his pocket, because the only time he wears them all the time is when he's working back here. Though he knows he likes to keep control of most aspects of his life, this is the one area where he's most careful.
And he knows exactly why it doesn't.
Casting a glance back over his shoulder, he smiles at Spencer before he locks the front door of the store, then digs his keys out of his pocket. He still wants to be safe, he doesn't want any customers wandering in while he and Spencer are working in the back because he still feels like he needs to be selective in who knows that he's a witch. It's not information he wants to be spreading around Siren Cove, even if three people have found out in the past month. Though that really doesn't bring the total number up that high, it's still left him feeling a little exposed, a little vulnerable, and while he's more than happy to show Spencer this part of his life, he really wants it to remain between the two of them.
He unlocks the back room, holding the door open wide for Spencer to go through and he leaves the door open, letting some light in as he feels along the wall until his fingers hit the light switch. Because he's had the windows blocked off for years, he's made an effort to put nice lighting into the room and has kept it meticulously organized, a far cry from the state of his shop and even his apartment upstairs. He's not a messy person, exactly, but he knows it's impossible to call his shop anything but a disaster and his apartment is clean, but with the books he piles on nearly every available surface, it's easy for the place to look cluttered.
The back room, though, is well-maintained. The surfaces are bare and clean, his stock is carefully labelled and shelved, and his books line only one wall, organized in order of magic type, then alphabetical. The more dangerous books are in a locked case near the back of the room. It looks more like a lab than anything, vials and beakers lined up on their shelves, a bunsen burner sitting with its hose coiled around the base near the gas line.
"So, this is it," he says, taking his glasses out of his pocket, because the only time he wears them all the time is when he's working back here. Though he knows he likes to keep control of most aspects of his life, this is the one area where he's most careful.
