If only...

Chapter 7

October was drawing to a close, and with each passing day, the crispness in the air seemed to seep deeper into my bones. The shop, with its warm, soft lighting and the comforting rustle of pages, remained a sanctuary from the encroaching chill outside. But even as the leaves turned and the rain began to fall more frequently, there was a shift in the atmosphere within the shop—a quiet, unspoken change that I couldn't ignore.

Will had become a fixture in my routine, his visits a familiar and anticipated part of my days. His presence was no longer just a pleasant interruption; it had become a kind of constant, a thread woven into the fabric of my life. We spent hours discussing poetry, sharing our thoughts and interpretations, and each time he left, I found myself looking forward to the next encounter with an eagerness that surprised me.

One particularly gray afternoon, the rain drumming steadily against the windows, I was in the midst of reorganizing a stack of new arrivals when the bell above the door chimed. I looked up, expecting the usual light-hearted banter, but instead found Will standing just inside the threshold, his expression serious.

He didn't immediately move towards the shelves or make any attempt to engage in our usual small talk. Instead, he paused, taking in the cozy atmosphere of the shop as if he were seeing it for the first time.

"Hey," he said finally, his voice softer than usual. "Mind if we talk for a bit?"

I set aside the books I was handling and nodded, a touch of curiosity piqued by his tone. "Of course. What's up?"

He stepped further into the shop, his gaze lingering on the various bookshelves before meeting mine. There was a thoughtful, almost hesitant look on his face, and I could sense that this conversation was different from our usual exchanges.

"I've been thinking a lot about what we've talked about," he began, his hands stuffed into his coat pockets. "About poetry, solitude, and... well, about us."

The way he said us made my heart skip a beat. It wasn't just the implication that there was an us—it was the seriousness with which he was approaching it.

"I've enjoyed every conversation we've had," he continued, looking down at the floor for a moment before meeting my gaze again. "But lately, I've been wondering if there's something more we're not saying. Something we're not quite acknowledging."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his words. It was like he had put into words the very thing that had been gnawing at the edges of my mind, the sense that there was something more between us, something that we hadn't yet explored.

"Yeah," I said slowly, choosing my words with care. "I've felt that too. Like there's a deeper connection, or at least the potential for one."

He nodded, his eyes searching mine for any sign of uncertainty. "I've enjoyed our conversations, Jude. I really have. But I also feel like there's something more... something we're both hesitant to address."

There was a quiet sincerity in his voice that made it impossible to dismiss. I found myself stepping closer to him, the proximity amplifying the intensity of the moment.

"I think we're both aware of it," I admitted, my voice steady but my heart racing. "There's a connection here that goes beyond just talking about poetry. But we've both been skirting around it, haven't we?"

Will's gaze softened, and he took a small step closer. "I think so. I've been hesitant because I didn't want to overstep. I didn't want to ruin what we have by making things awkward."

I could feel a flush rising to my cheeks, and I looked down, trying to gather my thoughts. "I get that," I said quietly. "I've been thinking the same thing. It's like we're both waiting for the right moment to... to acknowledge what's really happening between us."

He reached out, his hand gently touching mine in a way that felt both natural and charged. The warmth of his touch sent a shiver up my arm, and I looked up to find him studying me with an expression that mixed hope and apprehension.

"I don't want to wait anymore," he said softly. "I don't want to keep pretending that there isn't something more here. Because there is. And I want to explore it, if you're open to that."

My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt a rush of emotions—anticipation, nervousness, and an overwhelming sense of rightness. I had been waiting for this, for someone to acknowledge the unspoken bond between us, and now that it was happening, it felt both exhilarating and terrifying.

"I'm open to that," I said, my voice steady despite the whirlwind inside me. "I've been feeling the same way. I think we owe it to ourselves to see where this could go."

Will's face lit up with a relieved smile, and he stepped closer, closing the distance between us. His hand still held mine, and the connection between us felt tangible, like an electric current that ran through both of us.

"I'm glad," he said softly. "Because I've been wanting to tell you that I've really enjoyed getting to know you. More than I expected."

I squeezed his hand gently, feeling a surge of warmth at his words. "I've enjoyed it too. More than I thought possible."

We stood there for a moment, the silence between us filled with the promise of something new and exciting. The shop, with its quiet, cozy atmosphere, seemed to hold its breath as if acknowledging the shift that had just occurred.

Will finally let go of my hand, but his gaze remained locked on mine. "So, where do we go from here?"

I smiled, feeling a sense of calm settle over me. "We take it one step at a time. We keep talking, keep sharing, and see where this journey takes us."

He nodded, his eyes bright with a mixture of excitement and contentment. "I'm looking forward to that."

And with that, the unspoken understanding between us was finally voiced, and the connection that had been building between us became something we could explore together. For the first time in a long time, I felt a sense of clarity and anticipation, knowing that whatever came next, we would be facing it together.