“Is that a particular interest of yours?” Finn asked carefully.
“The genre as a whole or queer romance specifically?” Ollie asked with a small smile.
“Whichever.” Finn shrugged. “You seem passionate about books, so I figure maybe I’ll take something home with me. Which do you prefer?”
“Both, actually.” Ollie had never understood people who tried to hide their love of a good romance novel. “If I thought my parents would let me get away with it, I’d organize pop-up events where we sell nothing but romance and have themed nights to draw people in from around the area. I’m sure there are authors who live within driving distance, and it could be good to bring them in for signing events. They could help promote us to their readers, and we could offer a fun atmosphere without them having to haul books across the country for bigger events.”
Finn nodded, his expression unreadable. “The bookstore has a good selection. Not just of romance, but everything. It’s rather impressive.”
“We try,” Ollie said, pride evident in his voice. “It’s important to me that people see themselves in the books we carry. Especially young people. I would have given anything to find books with characters like me when I was a teenager. That’s why I scoop up as much LGBTQ content as I can.”
“That makes sense,” Finn said quietly. “If I were going to take a book home with me, what would you recommend?”
“My absolute favorite author right now is Rhett Wilder,” Ollie continued, enthusiasm carrying him forward. “His latest series is just—” He made a kiss gesture with his free hand. “The characters feel real, you know? Like they could be people you pass on the street every day, carrying all these feelings beneath the surface. But they’re not everyone’s cup of tea. He writes some of the best sex scenes I’ve ever read.”
Something shifted in Finn’s expression—a tightening around the eyes, a slight tension in his jaw. “I haven’t read his work.”
“Oh, if you don’t mind reading about gay guys, you totally should!” Ollie leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “His writing is so honest about how messy love can be, especially for men who’ve been taught that vulnerability is weakness. His latest release is about a bodyguard who falls for the celebrity he’s protecting. There’s this scene where they’re trapped in a safe house during a storm, and the power goes out. The bodyguard has to ‘perform a thorough security check,’ which somehow involves feeling his way across every inch of the client’s body in the darkness.” He trailed off, suddenly self-conscious about his enthusiasm. “Sorry, I tend to get carried away when it comes to books I love.”
“Don’t apologize,” Finn said, his voice softer than before. “It’s obvious how much the books mean to you.”
The simple observation caught Ollie off guard. “Books have always been my safe place,” he admitted. “When the real world gets too complicated or too loud, I can disappear into someone else’s for a while.”
Finn nodded, his eyes meeting Ollie’s with unexpected intensity. “Sometimes books understand us better than people do.”
“Yes,” Ollie said softly. “That’s exactly it.”
The moment stretched between them. Finn’s gaze lingered a fraction of a second too long, the kind of look that made Ollie’s pulse stutter, before Brendan’s voice shattered the silence. “Finn? The drywall guys are here with questions about where you want the delivery.”
Finn blinked, shoulders squared as his professional mask slid neatly into place. “Coming.” He glanced at Ollie, something like regret in his eyes. “I should?—”
“Go be competent and contractor-y,” Ollie cut in quickly, his smile feeling forced. His chest tightened, wishing for just a few more minutes alone with Finn. “I’ll be here, communing with the classic literature section.”
For a heartbeat, Finn didn’t move. Then he gave a small nod and turned away, his footsteps steady even as Ollie swore he could still feel the weight of his presence in the space between them.
Left perched on the step stool, Ollie exhaled slowly, heart drumming far louder than it had any right to. He stared after Finn, wondering what exactly had just sparked—and why it already felt like losing something when it hadn’t even begun.
The rest of the morning passed in a blur of activity. The crew carefully removed damaged drywall, and Ollie worked alongside Finn to relocate boxes of books to temporary shelving.
“You’re good with them,” Ollie observed as Finn gently handled a worn first edition. “Most people grab books by the spine or cram them in any which way.”
“They matter to you,” Finn said simply, like it was the most obvious truth in the world. “So they should be treated with respect.”
Ollie’s stupid chest tightened again. At this rate, it would be impossible to not crush on Finn. Why did he have to be so dang sweet? “Thank you for noticing that.”
Their eyes met briefly, and Ollie was struck again by the depth in Finn’s gaze. Ollie felt a shifting in the air, an awarenessthat reached deeper than a glance had any right to. His breath caught, and he looked away first, pretending to fuss over a stack of paperbacks.
They worked in companionable silence for a while, the quiet punctuated only by Ollie’s occasional comments about particular volumes or Finn’s questions about where certain boxes should go.
As they reached for the same book simultaneously, their hands collided, fingers brushing against each other.
“Sorry,” Ollie said, pulling back quickly. “I warned you. I have no sense of spatial awareness sometimes.”
“It’s fine,” Finn replied, his voice slightly rougher than before. He picked up the book—a collection of poetry—and handed it to Ollie, their fingers brushing again in the exchange.
This time, neither pulled away immediately. For a heartbeat, maybe two, they remained connected by that small point of contact.
Then Brendan appeared around the corner of the bookshelf, and they separated as if burned, Ollie nearly dropping the poetry volume in his haste.
