Love In The Mist

Chapter 12 - The First Glimpse of Rivalry Part 7

Ji-ah’s POV

Another day at the bookstore. Another day of trying to figure out Oliver.

I sigh, staring at him from across the shop as he restocks the fiction section, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes as he focuses on the spines of the books. He’s meticulous in the way he works, always methodical, always composed. And yet, I can’t tell what’s going on in that head of his.

Does he like me? Does he not? It shouldn’t be this complicated.

I wish he would just… say something. Do something. Show some sort of sign that he sees me the way I see him. But Oliver is careful, reserved, and even though I know there’s something between us—something unspoken—he won’t make a move.

So maybe I have to nudge him in the right direction.

Inside the Bookstore

I casually lean against the counter as Oliver sorts through a stack of new arrivals. “You know,” I say, tilting my head slightly, “there’s something oddly attractive about a guy who knows his way around books.”

Oliver pauses, blinking at me. “Uh… thanks?” His voice is uncertain, like he’s not sure if I’m joking or not.

I smirk. “It’s a rare quality. Very charming.”

He narrows his eyes slightly but doesn’t respond. Instead, he slides another book onto the shelf, his movements a little stiffer than usual.

Alright. Plan B.

I move closer, pretending to reach for the same book he’s holding. Our hands brush, and I let the contact linger just a little longer than necessary.

“Oh,” I say with a soft laugh. “Looks like we’ve got the same taste.”

Oliver clears his throat and quickly pulls his hand back. “Yeah. Uh. Good book.”

Seriously? That’s all I get?

Later, at the register, I tap my nails against the counter, watching him ring up a customer. The second they leave, I lean in slightly. “So, Oliver… what kind of girls do you like?”

His fingers pause on the keys, and he finally looks at me, startled. “What?”

“You know, just curious.” I shrug, acting nonchalant. “I mean, you must have a type, right?”

His brows furrow like he’s trying to figure out if this is a trap. “I… I don’t really think about it.”

I scoff. “Everyone thinks about it.”

He shifts uncomfortably. “I guess I like… people who are kind. Honest.”

I arch a brow. “That’s it?”

Oliver exhales, rubbing the back of his neck. “What kind of answer were you expecting?”

I roll my eyes. “I don’t know. Maybe something a little more specific?”

He gives me a confused glance before mumbling, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

I sigh dramatically. “Oliver, you’re impossible.”

He looks at me for a long second like he wants to say something, but then just shakes his head and returns to his work.

The End of the Shift

By the time my shift ends, I feel exhausted from trying to get through to him. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I imagined everything. Maybe Oliver just doesn’t see me that way.

Frustrated, I grab my bag and push through the front door, stepping out onto the street. The cool evening air rushes against my face, and I inhale deeply, willing myself to shake off the disappointment.

I don’t even notice the car coming toward me until it’s too late.

The sharp blare of a horn barely registers before something—or someone—grabs me, yanking me back just in time. A second later, I’m stumbling, falling—

And then I land on something solid. No, not something. Someone.

Oliver.

I blink, my hands pressed against his chest, his arms still wrapped protectively around me, holding me close. Time seems to freeze as I realize our faces are just inches apart, his dark eyes searching mine, his breath slightly uneven from the adrenaline.

For a moment, neither of us moves. Neither of us speaks.

Then, his hold on me loosens slightly, and his voice comes out quiet but firm. “Ji-ah… are you okay?”

I swallow hard, my heart hammering against my ribs—not from the near accident, but from the way Oliver is looking at me now.

Maybe I don’t have to give up just yet.