❀ J U L I A ❀
After spending a torturous 15-minute bus ride with an elderly woman fast asleep on my shoulder, I finally arrived at the store to spot a frantic Aurora abruptly pulling away with a screech of her tires. I feebly waved at the retreating vehicle before walking in, immediately flooded with memories from last summer.
Everything still looked the exact same.
On the left side, there were rows and rows of various CD's and old records, featuring artists from Passenger, to Arctic Monkeys, to The Beatles. The summer before, I'd spent most of my time scanning the seemingly endless supply, picking out my favorites and hiding them in the back. It was a childish thing to do, but it was always nice to come back and see that no one had touched my CD.
The guitar portion of the store was on the opposite side, where different guitars were lined up and hung across the wall. The great thing about this specific music store was that we basically carried every guitar available - electric, acoustic, bass, double-neck, twelve-string, even a few banjos and ukeleles behind the counter.
On late summer evenings when no one was around, I remember how I used to pick up my favorite acoustic guitar and write songs. Of course, then a customer had to walk in and I'd pretend I was just checking to make sure the guitars played well, but ultimately, this was where my love for songwriting began.
I blinked, being pulled back to reality as I looked around. The store wasn't extremely busy, but I decided to see if anyone needed help. You'd think most people would know their way around a music store, but from personal experience, I'd always been too shy to ask when I needed something.
Sure enough, there were a group of young girls huddled in the Indie Rock aisle, looking a bit confused.
"Are you guys doing okay?" I smiled reassuringly at them as almost all of the girls in the group avoided eye contact.
There was a slightly awkward lull in the one-way conversation before one of the braver girls, a pretty redhead, spoke up. "Um, yeah, we were actually wondering where we could find The 1975 CDs?"
I immediately grew a liking towards the group of girls. The 1975 were one of my favorites, if not my favorite band, so I knew exactly where their music was located.
"Follow me," I informed them, leading them to an aisle near the front of the store as my eyes began to scan the shelves. "Okay, so they have four EP's, but one album, which, is what I'm guessing you're looking for?" I questioned, just as my eyes landed on the infamous cover. I heard a quiet 'yes' behind me, and I reached over to pluck it out, handing it to the redhead. "This album is super good, you're not going to regret buying it. It's one of my personal favorites," I spoke. The girl smiled shyly and quietly thanked me.
"If there's anything else I can help you guys with, let me know," I replied, before walking away towards the counter to greet the cashier, Patrick. He was a great guy who liked making people laugh, and supremely cute as a bonus. His messy brown hair, green eyes, and dimples were what attracted most of our female customers and ensured they came back again. Shifts were definitely much more tolerable with him around.
"Wow, it's been forever... I definitely need to start coming in more." I greeted him, smiling widely as I made my way over to the register.
"Where have you been? It hasn't been the same without you. Who else is going to buy break burritos with me?" he joked while serving the group of girls I had just talked to. Sure enough, most of them were giggling, trying to catch Patrick's attention.
"Oh god, I almost forgot about those." I laughed.
As he rang up customers, we maintained an easy flow of conversation like we always did, talking about the most random of things before getting on the topic of Aurora and her tendency to hilariously overreact.
YOU ARE READING
stutter » a. irwin
Fanfiction[one] in which a drummer and a songwriter find common interest in a coffee shop - along with something more that neither of them could have ever expected.
