Love In The Mist

Chapter 8 - The First Glimpse of Rivalry Part 3

Oliver's POV

The bookstore is quiet today. Soft instrumental music plays in the background, mixing with the occasional sound of pages flipping and the distant murmur of customers browsing the aisles. It's the kind of peaceful atmosphere I've always loved about working here.

But today, my focus isn't on the books.

It's on Ji-ah.

She's by the register, stacking newly arrived books with practiced ease, her fingers brushing the covers gently as if she's reading their stories through touch. Her hair falls over her face slightly, and every now and then, she huffs in frustration, blowing a stray strand away. It's the kind of thing I shouldn't notice, but I do.

I notice everything about her.

I tell myself it's nothing. That it's just because we work together every day. That it's normal to know someone's little habits when you spend enough time around them.

But normal doesn't explain why I catch myself staring at her when she's not looking. Or why I find myself wanting to say things—personal things, things I don't usually share with people—when it's just the two of us shelving books in the back.

I keep those thoughts to myself and return my attention to sorting inventory. It's easier that way.

But then, lunchtime rolls around, and Ji-ah drops into the seat across from me in the break room, sighing dramatically as she unwraps her sandwich. "If I have to alphabetize one more shelf today, I think I might actually lose my mind."

I smirk, peeling open my own lunch. "Dramatic much?"

She points a chip at me. "You say that now, but wait until someone asks where the 'self-help' section is for the tenth time today."

I chuckle, shaking my head. This—this easy, comfortable banter—is what I look forward to every day. It's what makes the long shifts bearable. With Ji-ah, conversations never feel forced. She just has this way of making everything feel lighter, even on the dullest days.

We talk about random things—her latest obsession with a new webtoon, my failed attempt at making coffee this morning, the weird customer who came in asking for a book that didn't exist. It's easy, familiar.

And then she says something that changes everything.

"I have to leave a little early today," she says, wiping her hands on a napkin. "I'm meeting Ethan for coffee."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut, but I keep my face neutral. "Ethan?" I ask, feigning disinterest as I take a slow sip of my drink.

She nods, oblivious to the sudden shift in my mood. "Yeah, I ran into him yesterday during a walk. Totally accidental. We just... ended up talking for a while. And then he messaged me, so I figured, why not?"

My fingers tighten around my cup.

Ethan.

Of course, it's Ethan.

It's always Ethan. The confident one. The one who never hesitates, never second-guesses himself. The one who goes after what he wants without worrying about the consequences. The complete opposite of me.

And now, he's interested in Ji-ah.

I don't know why I'm surprised. She's the kind of person who naturally draws people in. But knowing that doesn't make it any easier to hear.

I force a casual shrug. "Didn't think he was your type."

She raises an eyebrow. "And what exactly is my type?"

Me.

The thought comes so quickly, so fiercely, that I almost flinch. But instead, I let out a short laugh. "I don't know. I just didn't think you'd go for someone like him."

She tilts her head, studying me. "Ethan's not that bad."

I scoff before I can stop myself. "He's not that great either."

Ji-ah frowns. "Do you not like him?"

I hesitate. hearing his name tied to Ji-ah—seeing her consider him in a way she's never considered me—stirs something in me I don't want to acknowledge.

I shake my head. "He just... goes through things quickly."

She narrows her eyes. "Are you warning me about him?"

I hold her gaze for a moment before looking away. "Just saying, don't get caught up in whatever charm he's throwing at you."

She exhales, rolling her eyes. "It's just coffee, Oliver. It's not a marriage proposal."

I nod, forcing a smirk. "Sure. Just coffee."

But it doesn't feel like just coffee. It feels like something shifting. Something I don't know how to stop.

And I hate it.