[Now on WEBTOON!]
A social klutz and certified bookworm, Autumn Lyne is content with having just books as companions--that is, until her extrovert of a sister drags her out to meet her band. But nobody has expected that this would mark the plot twis...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
If the local library was my sanctuary, Clover's would be the only music store in town, Sunset Edge. The group didn't have band practice that day, so she and I went to the store to unwind and get a new guitar pick because she had lost the other two.
It had been a long time since I had gone there, but the place looked pretty much the same. Bob, the bearded Hawaiian-shirt-wearing guy, was still manning the store. Various guitars and other stringed instruments hung from the ceiling around the room. Bins and shelves full of records packed the floor. And a hushed classic rock song filled the air. A few customers were wandering around, almost endlessly flipping through the stacks of records.
"Hey, I'm going to check out some more stuff in the back," said Clover and she disappeared behind the shelves.
The store was like a record graveyard where you could find anything if you searched long enough. As someone who liked to rummage through old stuff, I was easily sucked into looking through the items.
The bells chimed as the door opened, but I didn't break away from my thing. It was only until a familiar figure on the opposite side of the record bin caught my attention that I looked up.
And I almost jumped away.
Michael was looking at me. He was in a getup as dark as soot; it made him look menacing.
"Ah... hi," I said, my heart beating loudly in my ears. Before an awkward staring contest could commence between us, I continued to flip through the records.
"Didn't expect to see you here, Marmalade," he said as if he was just stating the weather.
I paused. "What? Did... did you just call me Marmalade?"
Shrugging, he shifted his gaze to the record bin and casually picked up a CD album to examine. "Your hair. It turns orange under the sun. Like marmalade."
That was a first. "I have a name, you know?"
He glanced to the side as if thinking about it. "What was it again? Your name?"
I rolled my eyes. His blank expression remained unchanged, but I could tell he was having fun with this exchange. "Come on, now. Clover yelled it the first time I went to the band room."
"I have a goldfish memory," he said.
My shoulders sagged, and I decided to play along with his game. "Cora. That's my name."
"Okay, Marmalade."
"You don't even believe me."
"That name doesn't fit you. It doesn't sound like you."
"So what name do you think fits me?" I asked.
"Marmalade."
I puffed out a laugh. I knew he would say that. "Are you here to buy something, or did you come here just to call me a fruit jam?"
