North POV

It was getting worse.

This thing… this fluttery, ridiculous feeling I couldn’t name — or maybe didn’t want to.

Every time Mark walked into the bookstore with that quiet smile and tired eyes, I felt like the world slowed down, just for a moment. Just long enough for me to lose my footing.

And God, I hated how easy it was for him to make me laugh. How his presence calmed the storm in my chest when everything else — university, life, responsibility — just felt like too much.

It wasn’t just a crush anymore.

I think I was in trouble.

I found myself looking for him even when I wasn’t supposed to — glancing up when the doorbell chimed, hoping it was him. Some days he stayed just ten minutes. Other days, he'd linger longer, flipping through books he didn’t seem all that interested in. But his eyes were always on me.

Not in a creepy way.

Not… exactly.

More like he was trying to figure me out. Like I was a puzzle he was too patient to force.

Sometimes he said nothing at all. He just stood near the counter, sipping coffee, eyes following my every move like he was memorizing the mundane.

And when I’d finally ask, “What?” with a nervous laugh, he’d shrug and murmur, “You’re just interesting, North.”

That voice.

Low. Measured. Almost too calm for someone so unreadable.

He made me feel seen in a way I hadn’t in a long time — or maybe ever.

And today?

Today it hit me harder than usual.

We’d both reached for the same book at the shelf — something cheesy and old, about star-crossed lovers in a war. Our fingers brushed, and I tried to laugh it off, but when I looked up…

He was already looking at me.

Like I was something delicate and burning, and he didn’t know whether to touch or stay away.

And I?

I did the dumbest thing.

I smiled.

Because even in the silence, even without words, he made me feel safe.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, pulling my hand back.

“Don’t be.” He said it so gently. Like he really meant it. Like he never wanted me to apologize for taking up space.

My heart skipped.

I was falling.

And I think… I didn’t mind.

_____________

It was late when he came in again.

The bookstore had already gone quiet — just me, the hum of the heater, and the soft rustling of pages. I was half-thinking he wouldn't show. He hadn’t been in for three days. Not that I was counting. Not that I’d lost sleep over it.

…Except I had.

I hated how much I looked forward to him. Hated how I watched the door, how I memorized the sound of his footsteps. How my stomach twisted when he smiled.

He wasn’t even supposed to matter.

But he did.

And now, as Mark stepped into the store — his coat damp with rain, hair slightly tousled, eyes catching mine like a magnet — I knew.

I couldn’t keep pretending it was nothing.

“Hey,” he said, voice softer than usual.

“Hey,” I breathed. My fingers gripped the edge of the counter. “You disappeared.”

His gaze flicked to mine. “Business.”

A pause. A beat. Then silence again. Only the clock ticking in the background and the slight hitch in my breath as I gathered the courage to do something stupid.

No. Brave.

I stepped out from behind the counter. My heart was hammering in my chest, loud enough to drown out thought. I looked up at him, every word bubbling at the tip of my tongue.

“I like you, Mark.”

There. Said.

His eyes didn’t change. He didn’t blink. He didn’t laugh. He just stood there, like he’d been waiting.

“You probably already knew,” I added nervously, fingers twitching at my sides. “I’m not exactly subtle.”

Still silence. Still him just watching me, that unreadable expression on his face. Like he was analyzing every word, every tremble.

Then, finally—

“I know,” he said.

I swallowed. “And?”

He stepped closer. One pace. Then another.

“I’ve tried not to pull you in,” he murmured. “Tried to keep a line.”

His voice had a heaviness to it — like he was carrying more than he wanted me to see. Like there was something behind it all. But it didn’t stop him from reaching out.

His hand brushed my cheek — tentative, careful — like he was scared I’d shatter.

And then…

He kissed me.

Not rushed. Not urgent. Just full — deep and deliberate, like he had all the time in the world.

My knees nearly buckled.

His lips were warm. Commanding, but gentle. My fingers curled into the front of his coat, grounding myself in him, tasting something between danger and comfort. His hand slid to the back of my neck, tilting my head just enough to deepen it, and for one suspended second—

—I forgot everything else.

It was just him.

Us.

And the feeling of finally letting go.