The bell above the door jingled softly as you stepped into the cozy bookshop, the familiar scent of aged paper and coffee wafting through the air. Shelves lined with books reached toward the ceiling, their spines forming a colorful mosaic. It was your favorite place in Sheffield, a sanctuary from the bustling streets outside, especially on this drizzly afternoon.

You made your way to the back of the shop, where the fiction section was located, your fingers lightly grazing the spines as you searched for your next read. It was a ritual of sorts, one that always ended with a smile when you spotted him.

Alex Turner stood behind the counter, a book cradled in his hands, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. He had a casual charm, dressed in a fitted black shirt and jeans that accentuated his lean frame. His hair fell just above his eyes, and when he looked up to greet you, it felt like the world outside faded away.

“Hello. Found anything interesting?” His voice was warm, inviting, with just the right hint of mischief. You could feel your heart flutter at the way his gaze lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary.