She looked like something sweet he would put in his coffee.
He'd abandoned his search for a Smiths cassette to enjoy looking at her, the old fluorescent lights and cool spring air from the open front door made this stranger seem something words couldn't describe. Stiles was scavenging his favorite hidden bookstore for something his Jeep's stereo would actually play when a hum entered the shop in the form of a girl. He was sure his mouth dropped open just a little, because she was wearing a white Elliot Smith shirt and maroon bell-bottomed pants and he was sure she had just walked out of his favorite 70's film. Her blue fingernails tapped on the book spines as she passed through an aisle of shelves to head towards the back of the shop where the records were. His eyes followed her until the beaded curtain that separated the front room from the back room blocked his view. Stiles didn't know his feet had been moving to follow her until his arm pushed back the beads and he joined her nervously to look at records for the player he didn't even own. But it was an excuse to follow her, to stand beside her and look at whoever fell under the alphabetical 'j' section while she looked under 'M' a few feet away.
Think, THINK, but he didn't know how to say anything other than: "I like your shirt."
She looked at him briefly, smiled (but only by raising the corner of her mouth a little), and turned back to continue her search. "Thanks."
She sounded like his favorite song, the one he turned the volume up on all the way. Every time.
"I like your shoes." She faced him fully now, holding a record under her arm. Stiles looked down to his feet to remember what he'd been wearing. Yellow converse, the ones he had owned since sophomore year of high school, the ones with old mud in the crevices that used to be white at some point, the ones with red Koolaid stains on the sides from when he used to drink cherry sugar like it was water in a desert. "They have character." She smiled again, even laughed a little. He died.
"The, uh, The Maccabees, are they any good?" He pointed out her record. As if she had forgotten she had even been holding it, the girl looked at its case.
"I must've listened to 'Toothpaste Kisses' about a thousand times. what are you looking for? Anything brilliant in particular?"
Stiles grabbed whatever he could off of the shelf next to him. "Yup just. . . 'Jesus' Top Ten Greatest Hits'."
She laughed. "I wasn't aware he was such a great musician."
"Oh yeah he's a way better vocalist than Morrissey." Stiles put the record back in its place and shifted his weight from one foot to the other, shyly looking down at his shoes. He should really wash them, jeez, the Koolaid was all over the place in big splotches.
"It was nice to meet you, you've honestly probably just made my day." She tucked a strand of curly hair behind her ear.
"Really?" He asked.
She nodded. "It's been kind of shitty up until now. So. Thank you."
She left the back room, gliding through the curtain to the front register. Stiles sighed, feeling so surreal standing right where he was, right next to where she had been.
What the hell am I doing?
He jogged out of the back room and caught up to her right as she was about to leave, grabbing her gently by the arm. "I have got to be the biggest dumbass there ever was, I didn't even ask what your name was–"
"Or what my number was, I was getting a little worried myself there for a moment." She dug inside of her purse for a minute. Wait, what? He grinned when she found a sharpie and he didn't hesitate to offer her his palm in exchange for her number. "I'm Lydia, by the way."
He made sure to buy The Maccabees cassette that had 'Toothpaste Kisses' on it.
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Authors note:
Just another. I never know what to say in these things oh man.
Comment, read, enjoy!
-Chloe
