The Key Party

Vinyls & Awkwardness

"So, you wanted me to see you today, right? At 3 P.M. at the House of Reds?"

"Correct. I wanted your help thinking of a layout. Plus, I really miss being able to just go out and have a pint with my best friend."

I shook my head at Candy's statement. "Don't get Irish on me now. I don't drink 'pints' Candy. Now, a glass of delicious merlot is more like it."

Candy laughs her obnoxious signature laugh on her end of the line, and I raise my brow in bafflement. Sometimes I don't get her humor, or what kind of humor she gets.

"Seriously, Jen. I miss hanging out with you. I felt like I haven't seen you in ages."

"Two phone calls in one day, Candy. Is there something wrong?" I ask in a teasing tone. She scoffs.

"You called me this time, Jenna. Don't even try!" I hear Candy huff a sigh on her end of the line, making me chuckle. Ruffling her feathers is one of my favorite things to do. Thankfully, she doesn't hold a grudge against me for teasing her like I do.

"Alright, alright. I'll see you at three, then." With that, I hang up and check the time. It's only 1:30 P.M.

"Maybe I can treat myself to buying another vinyl or something..." I hum to myself. The record store is on the way to the House of Reds, so it wouldn't hurt. Been wanting to snag that limited edition reprint of Queen's "A Night at the Opera," anyways.

I pull into the record store's parking lot, and hop out, locking my car as I stride eagerly into the store. Tasha, a coworker of mine, waves from behind the counter. "Hey, Jenna! Can't seem to avoid work, can you?"

I laugh lightly and shake my head. "You know me all too well, Tash."

I head to the back where the Queen albums are all on display, with the very album I'm looking for being centered, the plastic wrapping around it making it shine comparatively to the crown of jewels.

I grin and take it off the shelf, looking at the cover art in minute awe. "Hey Tash, the color of this album's vinyl is supposed to be—"

"Navy blue with chromatic engraving?"

I spin around, clutching the album in my arms and staring at the source of the unrecognizable baritone voice.

The guy from the store stood before me, hands shoved into his leather jacket pockets. A huff escapes my lips as I relax a little, and nod. "Yeah, actually."

He reaches past me and takes one of the vinyls himself. I watch him closely, studying his articulacy as he ran his finger over the back of the vinyl's casing. It was then I had the courage to speak first for a change. "Are you stalking me?"

His eyes flick up to mine, and he chuckles. "Why would I be stalking you?"

I squint my eyes for a minute, thinking. "Fair point."

He cocks his head to the side, taken aback by my blunt statement. "What do you mean—"

"This is all I need, Tasha," I interrupt, brushing past the stranger to the checkout counter.

Tasha smiles at me, a knowing-twinkle in her eye as she glances back at the stranger I left behind. "Okie dokie. Is that all, Jen?"

I nod in response, my habitual finger-drumming starts as I find myself eager to leave the store, and return to my humble abode. I feel a presence behind me, and figure it's just the stranger waiting in line to check out as well.

"Can I ask you a question?" the stranger's husky voice inquires. I freeze, clench and unclench my jaw in minor irritation at the inconvenience. After bagging up my vinyl, I turn to face him, getting out of his way.

"Have at it," I answer.

"I figured since we seem to keep running into each other, we should at least know each other's names," the stranger stated, holding a hand out to shake. "I'm David."

I look at his hand, studying its nimble form as I contemplate on shaking it. Deciding to take politeness over my own comfort, I shake his hand. "Jenna."

"Pleasure to meet you, Jenna." David gives me a relaxed lopsided smile and then proceeds to checkout, dropping my hand. The memory of how his skin felt dwindles, but it was as smooth as his voice.

"Likewise," I exhale, checking my watch. It read 2:15 p.m. "I've gotta jet. Meeting a friend of mine for that party that I told you about earlier."

"Right. Well, just judging by our conveniences, I guess I'll see you around," David sighs, taking his bagged vinyl and putting his free hand back into his pocket.

"Yeah... Yeah, I guess so," I mumble awkwardly, leaving the shop and David behind me. Part of me feels guilty for being so abrupt and rude, but the idea that he is stalking me has already got me treading on eggshells with my day.

"Good grief, Jen," I mutter to myself in annoyance, realizing how crazy it was to outright ask him—David, if he was stalking me. "Literally couldn't make encounters any weirder, can you?"

I hopped into my car, and drove out of the parking lot, zooming toward the House of Reds. "Let's hope he doesn't care to grab a drink, either."