Chapter 2 When Paths Cross Again

Lila's POV

The universe hates me.

That's the only explanation. Because how else do you explain waking up late, spilling coffee on yourself (again), and realizing you left your favorite pencil set at home-all on the same day?

It's fine, though. I'm fine. Totally fine.

Except I'm not. Because as I make my way to my part-time shift at the bookstore, I can't stop thinking about him.

The guy. The walking perfection. The man I practically body-slammed yesterday.

I replay the scene over and over in my head, cringing at every detail. The accidental kiss, the way he looked at me like I'd ruined his entire existence, and-ugh-the way I couldn't even form a complete sentence in front of him.

Why can't I stop thinking about him?

It's not like I'm into guys. Not really. Relationships just seem like... a hassle. I mean, who has the time? But for some reason, he's stuck in my brain like a bad pop song.

I shake my head as I step into the bookstore, determined to focus on work and not on tall, dark, and condescending.

The bookstore is quiet today, as usual. It's a small, cozy place tucked into a corner of the city, and I love it here. The smell of old books, the soft hum of background music-it's my escape.

I'm in the middle of shelving some new arrivals when the bell above the door jingles. I glance up out of habit, and my heart stops.

It's him.

The guy from yesterday.

What is he doing here?

He looks out of place among the shelves of worn paperbacks and secondhand classics. His sharp suit and cold expression practically scream, "I don't belong here."

I quickly duck behind the shelf, hoping he doesn't see me. My heart is racing again, and I can feel my cheeks heating up.

Why is he here? Is he following me? No, that's ridiculous. He doesn't even know me.

Still, I can't stop myself from peeking around the corner. He's standing by the counter, talking to my boss, Mrs. Winslow. His voice is low and smooth, and even though I can't hear what he's saying, I can tell he's annoyed about something.

Mrs. Winslow smiles politely, gesturing toward the back of the store, and he nods before turning around.

And that's when he sees me.

Nathaniel's POV

The bookstore wasn't my idea.

James suggested it after I complained for the third time about how disorganized my home office was. Apparently, my shelves are too "soulless" and "cold." As if books are going to fix that.

Still, I'm here. Because even though James annoys me, he's usually right about these things.

I step inside, immediately regretting it. The place is tiny and smells like dust and nostalgia, and I feel entirely out of place.

I approach the counter, where a kind-looking older woman greets me with a smile.

"How can I help you, sir?"

"I need books. For decoration," I say flatly.

Her smile falters for a moment before she quickly recovers. "Of course. Any particular genre you're looking for?"

"Whatever looks... classic," I reply, gesturing vaguely.

She nods, clearly trying to hide her confusion, and points toward the back of the store.

I turn to follow her directions, but then I see her.

At first, I don't recognize her. She's crouched behind a shelf, her face partially hidden, but there's something familiar about the way she's awkwardly pretending not to notice me.

And then it hits me.

It's her. The woman from yesterday.

The one who collided into me like a hurricane of clumsiness and awkward apologies. The one who... kissed me.

Okay, it wasn't really a kiss. But still.

For a moment, I just stare at her. She's wearing an oversized sweater that looks like it belongs to someone twice her size, and her hair is pulled into a messy bun. She's holding a stack of books, her fingers fidgeting nervously as she avoids my gaze.

It's almost... endearing.

No. Not endearing. Annoying.

I clear my throat, and her head snaps up. Our eyes meet, and I can tell she's just as surprised as I am.

"Uh... hi," she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lila's POV

Kill me now.

Why is he here? Out of all the bookstores in the city, why did he have to walk into this one?

And why is he looking at me like that? Like he's trying to figure out if I'm a real person or just some sort of cosmic joke.

"Hi," I manage to squeak, my voice embarrassingly small.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. "You work here?"

"Uh... yeah," I say, gesturing vaguely at the shelves around me. "Part-time."

He nods, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, we just stand there in awkward silence.

I feel like I should say something-anything-to break the tension. But my brain is a scrambled mess, and all I can think about is how close he is and how good he smells.

"So... are you looking for anything in particular?" I blurt out, desperate to fill the silence.

His lips twitch, like he's trying not to smirk. "Books. For decoration."

"Oh." I blink, unsure of how to respond. "That's... specific."

"I know," he says, his tone dry.

I can't tell if he's being serious or if he's making fun of me, but either way, I feel like I'm failing some sort of test.

"Well, uh, we have some classics over here," I say, leading him toward a nearby shelf.

He follows me, his presence somehow both intimidating and... distracting.

I reach for a book, my hands still shaking slightly, and I accidentally knock over an entire row of paperbacks.

"Sorry!" I yelp, scrambling to fix the mess.

He doesn't say anything, but when I glance up, I catch the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

Is he... amused?

The thought makes my cheeks burn even hotter, and I quickly turn away, focusing on the books in front of me.