Ding.
The doorbell rang.
“Welco—” she began to say, twisting her head toward the door.
That one twist of her torso did it.
The chair betrayed her.
One of the screws—loose and disloyal—gave up on life. The chair tilted.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh shi—”
“Watch out!” a deep voice called from below.
The man—tall, quick—rushed forward, arms outstretched, ready to catch her like some drama prince.
But Rose?
Fall into some stranger’s arms? With a dramatic gasp and eye contact?
She’d rather die.
In a last-second act of pure chaos, she twisted mid-air away from him.
And landed flat on her butt with a loud, very unromantic THUMP.
“Ow—ow ow ow—! Ughhh!” she hissed, clutching her back, glaring at the ceiling like it betrayed her.
The man leaned over her, slightly breathless, holding out his hand. “Are you okay?”
Rose glanced up. He had glasses that made his eyes look deeper, a sharp jawline, and a kind of smile that made her suspicious. He was wearing a shirt that was too clean for someone normal.
“I’m fine,” she muttered, swatting away his hand and forcing herself to stand.
He didn’t argue, just stepped back and tucked his hands in his coat pockets, lips twitching.
“You sure?” he asked again. “You landed with enough force to scare the books off their shelves".
The pain in her backside pulsed like betrayal, but her pride hurt even more—especially with a complete stranger watching it happen in slow motion.
She Dusted herself off. And gave him a look that said don’t even think about commenting.
He, of course, commented anyway.
"You know," he said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "I’m still convinced falling into my arms would've been the safer choice."
Rose narrowed her eyes at him. “Well, sorry for choosing the floor. Next time I’ll schedule my humiliation better.”
He chuckled—a low, genuine sound that made the room feel warmer. Then he walked off, hands in his pockets, wandering the aisles like he belonged there.
Rose rolled her eyes, mumbled something about nosy customers, and went back to the counter. She tried to ignore him. Really, she did.
But every few minutes, she’d catch him glancing at her over the rim of his book. Not in a creepy way. More like he was... curious.
Maybe amused.
Great, she thought. "Now I’m a walking joker".
She stole a few glances herself. Just quick ones. He really did look like someone who had a well-paying job, probably owned too many pens, and knew how to make spreadsheets. His glasses slipped down his nose often. His hair kept falling into his eyes. He didn’t bother fixing either.
Two hour passed like that.
Finally, he closed his book, stood up, and walked over to the counter.
Rose was busy fixing a display shelf, her brow furrowed, arranging new bookmarks into a little ceramic cup.
YOU ARE READING
PERFECT (F4 THAILAND)
Fanfiction"Something on my face, or are you just admiring my good looks?" "Neither, I was just zoned out and your ugly face just happened to be in my line of sight." She replied
