STORMS // Sam Kiszka

one

Breathing in deeply, she spun around and faced the boys who were now looking around at the vinyls near the entrance, keeping her hands steadily placed on the table where her favourite and traitorous record player sat. One, with curly brown hair pushed back from his face and a short demeanour, was wandering to the Gospel section, encapsulated by the funky looking album covers. He didn't seem to care about Eliza's embarrassment, which was relieving. However, the other boy with long brown hair and who was taller than his companion, smiled at her, amused. "Fleetwood Mac, huh?"

Eliza didn't know what to say so she simply nodded, tucking a strand of her insufferably messy hair behind her ear, "One of my favourite bands." She chuckled awkwardly and walked back to the counter, where she sat on the stool and leaned on the wooden frame of the counter, "Give me a shout if you need anything." Eliza smiled, trying to normalise whatever just happened.

Around five minutes went by, the pair looking through albums and posters that lined the walls like usual customers did. By this point, Eliza was scrolling through her phone again. She sighed, seeing the beautiful models consume her feed and wondered why she didn't look like that. What was wrong with a little bit of chub? Could a girl live over 120 pounds and still be someone's type? Over the rhetorical questions whizzing through her brain, she heard a cough. Eliza snapped her head up and saw the boys standing at the counter, albums in hand. She took the short boy's choice of record, "$13, please." and took the money from him. The one Eliza had spoken to before handed her his record, "Tusk! Fabulous! It's criminally underrated." She said seriously. She may have been unwieldy, but music was a passion of hers and she loved introducing people to her music and being introduced to theirs. 

"I actually never listen to Fleetwood Mac; I was inspired by your dance moves." He replied, chuckling.

"What?! You've got a lot to learn, in that case." Eliza was shocked. How could someone never listen to Fleetwood Mac? That was like sacrilege, "That'll be $15."

They traded items and he ruffled his hair, letting it flow down to his shoulders once again, "Thanks. And hey, maybe you could teach me?"

Hold on. Was he flirting? She didn't know what to make of it, so she smiled back at him, "I'd like that. I am an expert after all."

Suddenly, they were interrupted by the other boy, "Right! We better get going, Sam, but it was lovely to meet you...?"

"Eliza."

As he was being dragged from the store by his companion, Sam gave a goofy smile to Eliza and gestured a phone to his ear. She gave him a confused look, but as she turned to speak, he was gone. And Eliza was baffled. She looked down at his money that was still sitting on the counter. Seeing the little note hidden under the $5, she dug her brow into her forehead and read it. Coffee? Let me know, *************.

Eliza was shocked. She was excited to know that someone had finally taken interest in her, however, she couldn't help but feel scared, as the insecurities she had were beginning to resurface.

Eliza's hands were trembling with the note in her hand. It was a simple and friendly gesture but, being Eliza, her mind was in a fuzz. It didn't really match the ambience of her surroundings, so she jolted up from her stool and hopped outside, hoping the somewhat fresh air would cure her from her brain. She took a deep breath in and read over Sam's number. It was the same as when she had read it before; bold and scribbly, and she knew nothing was going to change about that little piece of paper until she done something about it.

Who would ask Eliza Docherty out for coffee? Of all the people in the world, why her? The small, fuzzy haired Scot with nothing going for her but her so-called impeccable music taste, and even then, Sam had only seen her at her most embarrassing, so why on earth would he want coffee? She secretly wanted to say yes, solely to understand why.

Eliza shook it off and wandered back into the shop, still staring intently at the small note with a strong grip, making the edges of it wither. Without giving herself anymore thinking time, she shoved it under the counter and looked at the time. It was 3:50 and she was nearly finished for the day, so she packed up her things and went to the back, where Mr Dean was now present. "Mr Dean, that's me finished for the day."

"Oh yes of course! You're back in tomorrow, right?" He recalled.

"Yep, I'm 10-4, like today." Eliza reminded him in case he gave her new shifts when this was her fifth day of working in a row, with tomorrow being her last for the week. She was knackered.

"Good good. I'll see you tomorrow then, Lizzy." She smiled at the old man's pet name and waved him goodbye, clutching her belongings and forgetting about all of the confusions of the day.

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First chapter blues. Hope this was okay!

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