Chapter 16 - Sparks Fly Part 1
729 Words
Ji-ah's POV
I don't know why I'm nervous.
It's just Oliver. The same Oliver I've worked with for months. The same Oliver who always folds the corners of book pages even though he knows it drives me crazy. The same Oliver who makes dry, sarcastic remarks but secretly cares about everything.
And yet, tonight feels... different.
Because this isn't just another shift at the bookstore. This isn't one of our usual lunch breaks.
This is a date.
Oliver takes me to a small, candlelit restaurant tucked into the side streets of St. Ives, the kind of place that feels intimate, like a secret only locals know about. There's soft music playing in the background, and the scent of fresh pasta and wine fills the air.
It's perfect.
"This is nice," I say, looking around as I take my seat across from him.
Oliver shrugs, but there's a hint of a smirk on his lips. "I have good taste."
I raise an eyebrow. "Oh? So you do know how to plan a date."
He pretends to think. "I mean, I did Google 'romantic places in St. Ives.' But let's pretend I just knew."
I laugh, shaking my head. "Noted."
The conversation flows easily, just like it always does with Oliver. We talk about books, movies, ridiculous customer stories from the bookstore. He tells me about the time a tourist tried to pay for a book in seashells, and I nearly snort my drink out of my nose.
But then, somewhere between the main course and dessert, the conversation turns softer.
"What made you apply to the bookstore?" I ask, twirling my fork in my pasta. "You don't seem like the kind of guy who likes retail."
Oliver leans back slightly, his fingers tracing the rim of his glass. "I needed a quiet job. Something simple. After everything with my family... I didn't want to deal with people."
I hesitate, watching the way his jaw tenses. "And now?"
He looks up at me, his dark eyes thoughtful. "Now... I don't mind it so much."
There's something in the way he says it, the way he holds my gaze just a little longer than necessary, that sends my heart into a tailspin.
By the time we leave the restaurant, the night air is cool, and the streets are quiet. Oliver insists on walking me home, and I don't argue.
We take our time, strolling past the dimly lit shops and art galleries, the cobbled streets echoing softly under our steps.
"Tonight was nice," I say after a moment.
Oliver glances at me. "Yeah. It was."
I bite my lip, looking down at the pavement. "I was kind of hoping you'd ask me out sooner, you know."
He lets out a breathy chuckle. "Yeah?"
I nod, feeling a little bold. "Yeah."
Oliver doesn't respond immediately, but when he does, his voice is lower, almost hesitant. "I wasn't sure if you wanted me to."
I stop walking.
He stops too, turning to face me.
"You're an i***t, Oliver," I say, crossing my arms.
His lips twitch. "I get that a lot."
I shake my head, unable to stop the smile from forming. "You could've just asked."
He tilts his head slightly, like he's considering something. Then, slowly, he takes a step closer.
And suddenly, my breath catches.
I should've seen this coming. But now that we're here, standing in the middle of a quiet street with only the sound of the ocean in the distance, I can't think about anything else except the fact that Oliver is standing way too close, and I really don't mind.
His gaze flickers down to my lips, then back up to my eyes. "Ji-ah..."
I don't wait. I don't hesitate.
I lean in, closing the space between us.
The second our lips meet, everything else fades.
His hands hover uncertainly before finally settling at my waist, pulling me in just enough to make my head spin. He kisses me softly, like he's still trying to convince himself this is real. And maybe I am too.
When we finally pull away, I'm breathless.
Oliver blinks at me, looking slightly dazed. "...That was unexpected."
I laugh, resting my forehead against his. "Liar."
He grins, his arms still wrapped around me. "Okay, maybe not."
For the first time in a long time, everything feels exactly the way it's supposed to be.
- Writer
