nine: the record store.

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As I walk us down into the train, he sits down next to me. "You're not gonna give me any hints."

"Nope, not one. It's called a surprise for a reason Zach."

"But what if I don't want to do it?"

"Then you leave, and that'll be the end of our "date"" I say, raising an eyebrow, "It's self explanatory, really."

"Okay, but I'm telling you beautiful, I'm pretty picky."

"Yeah," I roll my eyes. "that much I know." 

Honestly, I'm getting used to be called beautiful. It's weird when it's not coming out of your mom or best friend's mouth, but it's adjustable. We continue the rest of our ride in silence. As we finally get up onto the main street, I hear "OH MY GOD, THAT'S ZACH HERRON" down the road. I immediately look at him, and he looks at me, shrugging his shoulders.


"What do we do?" I whisper.

"We can try and make a run for it,' He smirks.

"NO, those are your fans." I swat.

"Guess you're taking pictures then." As he says, a group of 3 girls a bit younger than Laila runs up to him.

"Hi." one of them says meekly.

"Hey." he smiles at them.

"Areyouzachherron?" another asks super fast, so fast that if you didn't pay attention, you'd think she was speaking gibberish. She immediately looks at her shoes after asking, letting her hair cover her face. 

"I am, it's nice to meet you." he smiles at all 3, causing them to have literal hearts in their eyes.


 They are so awestruck by him; it's adorable.


"Would it be alright if we could all take a picture with you?" the third one finally asks.

"Yeah, for sure." He says, putting his arms out so the girls could be seen. The third girl grabs her phone out of her pocket to snap it. "Do you not want to be in the picture?" he asks her. "I do but you know, no one else can take it." she states shyly, embarrassed even.

"Here let me take it," I say. The girl passes me her phone and runs to the side of her friend. I quickly snap a few and hand her back the phone. She thanks me, and all three of them thank Zach. They then proceed to sprint off, giggling and smiling at each other.

"Is this what it's like going on a date with Mr. Famous?" I ask him sarcastically. But deep down, I realize it must be. Unless you're in the middle of nowhere, he's bound to get noticed, so I guess public dates are almost always off the table. I wonder why he decided to take a chance with me.

"Pretty much." he states, brushing off his shoulders, "C'mon, let's go to this "perfect spot." "


*


"Here we are." I say, standing outside stranded records, my all-time favorite record shop. Pops, my stepdad, worked down the street and would always take me here growing up. While other kids gotta grow up listening to the radio, he and I would dance around our apartment to jazz. He was convinced music sounded the best live or on a recorder player, nothing in between.

"Where is here?" He says, looking at me.

"The best recorder store in all of New York City," I tell him, walking into the door gesturing for him to come behind me. I walk in, I see the familiar boxes full of records. "I know you like music for obvious reasons, and I wanted to get a new record so boom, the best place to go."

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