Every shift is the same on Saturdays. It always starts off busy, but dies down quickly once the football game has kicked off. Fans pour in and out all morning, in various states of drunkenness, buying their spiritwear, before finally making their way to the stadium and leaving Louis alone in the bookstore for the rest of the afternoon. His shifts usually end before the game does, so he never has to deal with the drunkards afterwards.
He'd initially taken the job because the university gave him a discount on the textbooks, and then he'd stayed because it was so slow he had down time to do homework. The store only really gets busy at the beginnings of the semester, or when home games are happening and fans need to buy their last minute apparel.
It's never too exciting, and that's the way he prefers.
The bell dings over the doorway, signalling a customer. The place has been dead since kickoff, sending people running and leaving him alone for the past two hours, and the sudden sound startles Louis from the book he's reading. He marks his page and looks up to see who's disturbed him, only to find the person has quickly made their way to the stacks of books, disappearing from his view. Shrugging, Louis goes back to reading, sure the customer will find him if they need anything.
"It's emptier than I expected," comes a deep voice around twenty minutes later, startling Louis once again. "Where is everyone?"
"At the game," Louis says as he marks the page in his book and finally glances up. The stranger standing in front of him is breathtakingly beautiful, with his dark hair pulled into a bun on the top of his head. He's got milky white skin in sharp contrast to his full, red lips and deep emerald eyes. He looks wildly out of place on the college campus, decked out in a floral blouse half unbuttoned and tight, black skinny jeans.
"Oh, I guess that makes sense," the man replies, laying the books he's chosen onto the counter. Louis glances at the titles and can see he's chosen a few books about feminism, sexuality, and politics. "I've heard this city's big on school spirit."
Louis snorts, scanning each of the books, impressed by the selections. "You can say that. We all bleed scarlet and grey, and all that bullshit."
The stranger tilts his head at that, a puzzled expression taking over his face. He takes the bag that Louis hands to him, looking like he can't quite figure Louis out.
"Are you not big into school spirit?" he finally asks, tucking a curl behind his ear that's fallen loose from his bun.
"Not so much, no." Louis leans forward against the counter, using his elbows to prop him up and placing his chin into his clasped hands. "Are you not a student here? You're not exactly screaming school spirit, either."
The man steps back as if he's been slapped in the face, and Louis wonders what he's said wrong. He's not wearing any rival school's gear, or any school gear at all, and Louis doesn't think he's said anything particularly offensive. Before he can think too much about it, the man's face breaks into a beaming smile, a complete 180 from the expression he had just been wearing.
"No, I'm not from around here," the man replies. Which, Louis could have guessed. His slow drawl has a bit of an accent, definitely British if Louis were to make an assumption. The more the man talks, the thicker the accent becomes, as if he were suppressing it before or altering his voice in some way.
"Hmm," Louis hums. "What brings you here? You're a long way from home, it sounds like."
"Definitely a long way from home," he says. His smile sets dimples deep into his cheeks and crinkles by the corners of his eyes. Louis refuses to find it cute. "I'm here for work."
