Chapter 10
TEN
Ollie woke with the phantom press of Finn’s lips still warm against his own. For one blissful, half-conscious moment, he smiled into his pillow, the memory wrapping around him like a favorite blanket. Then reality crashed in—the way Finn had pulled away, the text from Brooklyn, the hasty goodbye.
“We’ll talk tomorrow,” Finn had promised.
Tomorrow was now today, and Ollie’s phone screen remained stubbornly notification-free. He knew, logically, how stupid it was to expect a message as soon as he woke, but it would have been nice.
He rolled to his back, staring at the ceiling as doubt crept in.
Had he imagined the intensity in Finn’s eyes?
The way Finn’s hand had trembled slightly against his cheek?
Maybe it had been a moment of weakness, a mistake Finn now regretted.
Heck, until recently, he hadn’t had any clue that Finn wasn’t straight.
Maybe he was, and the kiss had proven it to him. Maybe he’d been curious and had seen Ollie as a safe test subject.
“Stop catastrophizing,” he muttered to his empty bedroom. “It’s barely seven. Normal people don’t text at dawn, and you know damn well that kiss wasn’t bad.”
But the anxiety had taken root, and sleep was officially a lost cause.
Ollie dragged his body out of bed, his morning routine a blur of muscle memory as his mind replayed every second of that kiss in excruciating detail.
The gentle pressure of Finn’s hand at his waist. The soft sound Finn had made when Ollie’s fingers tangled in his hair.
The way everything else had fallen away, leaving only the two of them in a world suddenly full of possibility.
And then Brooklyn’s text. The abrupt return to reality. The carefully measured distance as Finn had said goodbye.
By the time Ollie unlocked the bookstore, he’d crafted and deleted at least fifteen different messages to Finn. Each attempt felt either too casual—Hey, about that kiss…—or too intense—I haven’t stopped thinking about you—or too needy—Are we okay?
He settled on something simple as he unlocked the store.
Hope Brooklyn’s okay. Here if you need anything.
The message sent with a soft whoosh that somehow sounded final in the quiet of the empty bookstore. Ollie pocketed his phone and surveyed the space, seeking distraction in the familiar comfort of books and shelves.
The renovation had transformed Shelf Care Central. The ceiling was whole again, the walls freshly painted, new shelving gleaming in the morning light. The “Save the Shelf” banner still hung across the front window, a reminder of how far they’d come—and how far they still had to go.
Ollie threw himself into work, unpacking boxes of new releases and replacement stock, arranging displays for the upcoming events, and making endless lists in his worn notebook. If he stayed busy enough, maybe he could outrun the gnawing uncertainty in his chest.
His phone remained silent.
By mid-morning, the store had come alive with the usual Saturday bustle.
A few customers browsed the shelves, the coffee machine gurgled in the back, and Ollie maintained his best approximation of normalcy—smiling, recommending books, making small talk.
But his eyes kept drifting to the door, hoping for a familiar figure that didn’t appear.
“You look like you’re expecting the Spanish Inquisition,” Sam announced, appearing at his elbow with a small paper bag from the farmers’ market.
Maya followed close behind, carrying what appeared to be a container of chicken soup from the diner down the street.
“Or possibly the apocalypse. Either way, sustenance is required.”
“My heroes,” Ollie said, accepting the soup with both hands. “Though I’d argue no one expects the Spanish Inquisition.”
“He’s quoting Monty Python. The patient may yet survive,” Sam stage-whispered to Maya, who rolled her eyes fondly.
“We figured you could use reinforcements,” Maya explained. “Jules is parking the car. They’re bringing the final mockups for the book club posters.”
Ollie nodded, grateful for his friends’ presence even as anxiety continued to gnaw at his insides. “You guys are the best. Seriously.”
Sam studied him over the rim of her coffee cup. “Okay, what gives? You’ve got that look.”
“What look?”
“The ‘I’m fine but actually dying inside’ look,” Sam clarified. “The one where your smile doesn’t reach your eyes and you keep checking your phone every thirty seconds.”
Heat crept up Ollie’s neck. “I don’t have a look.”
“You absolutely do,” Maya confirmed gently. “And it’s currently screaming ‘emotional crisis’ in neon letters.”
Before Ollie could formulate a denial, the bell above the door chimed. His heart leaped traitorously, only to sink when Jules entered instead of Finn.
“Sorry, I’m late,” Jules called, waving a portfolio as they approached. “The printer was having a moment, but I sweet-talked them into rushing our order.” They paused, taking in the tableau before them. “What did I miss?”
“Ollie’s having feelings and refusing to talk about them,” Sam supplied helpfully.
“I’m not—” Ollie began, then sighed, the fight draining out of him. “Can we not do this right now? We have posters to hang around town, and I’m still trying to get the store back to rights.”
Jules exchanged a look with Sam and Maya that Ollie pretended not to notice. “Sure,” they said easily. “Let’s set up in the back office.”
The next hour passed in a flurry of dividing up the posters to be hung inside every business that would let them, finalizing schedules, and assigning tasks for the upcoming fundraiser.
Ollie threw himself into the planning with perhaps too much enthusiasm, as if perfect execution could somehow fill the hollow space in his chest.
When his phone finally buzzed, he nearly knocked over his coffee in his haste to check it.
Sorry for the radio silence. Dealing with Brooklyn stuff. I’ll try to stop by later.
The brief message was so far from what Ollie had hoped for that he stared at it for several seconds, waiting for more words that didn’t come.
No mention of the kiss. No acknowledgment of what had happened between them.
Just…logistics. He shouldn’t have expected anything else from Finn, really.
The man wasn’t exactly known for wearing his heart on his sleeve or diving into emotional conversations.
Still, a small part of him had hoped for something more.
“Earth to Ollie.” Jules’s voice broke through his thoughts. “You okay?”
“Fine,” he said automatically, pocketing his phone. “Just distracted. Where were we?”
Jules studied him for a moment, then turned to Sam and Maya. “Can you two handle the poster distribution? I need to help Ollie figure out the romance night setup.”
It was a transparent excuse, but Ollie was too emotionally exhausted to call Jules on it. As soon as Sam and Maya left the office, Jules closed the door and fixed Ollie with a knowing look.
“Spill. What’s going on with you and Finn?”
“How do you know there’s anything going on between Finn and me?” Ollie protested, as if Jules would fall for that. They already knew there was something, even if Ollie hadn’t shared the latest updates.
“Because I have two eyes, and Keaton said he’s been acting strange anytime he’s been here.”
Ollie’s brow furrowed. Strange how? But asking would be the same as admitting there was something between them, and right now, there wasn’t. Just a life-altering kiss and an awkward escape.
“You can fool a lot of people, but not me. Something’s going on, so what is it?” Jules crossed their arms over their chest, trying—and failing—to look stern. “Has something happened since the vague moment you mentioned the other day?”
The direct question cracked something in Ollie’s carefully maintained facade. He sank into the office chair, suddenly bone-tired. “I have no clue what’s going on, and that’s the problem.”
Jules pulled up the other chair, sitting close enough that their knees touched. “Start at the beginning.”
“We kissed,” Ollie admitted, the words barely audible.
“Yesterday afternoon. And it was… God, Jules, it was everything. Like the most perfect first kiss in a book. I might appreciate a well-written slow-burn in my books, but that shit’s for the birds in real life.
Finn finally getting out of his damned head for a few seconds was bliss.
” He ran a hand through his already chaotic curls.
“And then his phone buzzed, and it was Brooklyn, and he had to go. Which I completely understand—she needs him, and that’s important.
He said we’d talk today, but now he’s just…
distant. And I’m the biggest dick in the world because I know he’s not doing it to ghost me.
He’s got his hands full with Brooklyn, and I’ve been promising him I understand that she’s his priority. ”
Jules listened without interrupting, their expression thoughtful. “And you’re spiraling.”
“I’m not spiraling,” Ollie protested weakly. “I’m catastrophically overthinking. There’s a difference.”
“Semantics,” Jules said with a small smile. “Look, from what I’ve heard, Brooklyn’s going through something pretty major right now. If Finn’s focusing on her, that doesn’t mean he regrets what happened between you two.”
“Logically, I know that,” Ollie conceded. “But maybe he realized it was a mistake. That I’m too much trouble, that I’m a distraction. That his life is already full enough without adding me to the mix. Or, you know, that kissing a dude isn’t something he wants.”