RECORDS ◈ FINN WOLFHARD

8 | Would You Like To Dance?

Y/N

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"SO YOU HAVE to come here every day?" I asked, clutching the umbrella over my head.

We were standing in the pouring rain, the sounds of thunder echoing above our heads. The bottoms of my sneakers were already drenched with the puddles on the sidewalk, and I eagerly watched as Finn fumbled to get the key into the store's lock.

Because of the storm, the streets were deserted, which posed the question: why was Finn still required to go to work?

"I don't have to come on Mondays," the boy grinned, finally swinging the door open.

"But it's Sunday," I pouted, quickly scampering into the dry area, "it's still the weekend."

Finn laughed, "but it's not Monday."

I smiled, closing the umbrella and shaking off the beads of water. As I set it against the leaf-green walls, Finn walked over to the desk, tapping a small box to clock his shift in. My shirt was still damp, so was his, so naturally we both shivered.

"I don't suppose we could put on the heater," I suggested, rubbing the sides of my arms.

Finn shook his head, "it doesn't get turned on till noon."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah, it's on a timer."

"Boo," I pouted, "can we play some music then?"

Finn gave a silly face, as if to say 'are you kidding me?'. Nodding his head, he nodded over to the record player sitting in the middle of the shop. Yes! Pumping my fist in the air, I scampered off to one of the tables labeled 60s hits.

Most of it wasn't sorted yet, but an orange and white cover caught my eye. So did the four men on the front. The Beatles. Gosh, I loved the Beatles, and I could listen to their music for the rest of my life.

Pulling it out, I popped it into the record player gently. As my finger traced along the back of the vinyl cover, a track number caught my hand. I Want To Hold Your Hand, by the Beatles. That was probably my favorite 60s song, and that meant one thing. I had to play it! Smiling, I set the vinyl down, mumbling the name of the song.

"I want to hold your hand," I read aloud, my hand preparing to turn the player on.

Before I could switch it on, I heard a small crash behind me, and I whipped around in worry. Finn's arms were outstretched towards the ground. He had dropped a stack of vinyls he was carrying.

Snapping his head towards me, his eyes widened, "you do?"

"What?" I said, tilting my head.

"You want to hold my hand?"

I blinked for a moment, confused, until it all clicked in my brain. He hadn't seen the record I was holding, so he thought I was saying that I 'wanted to hold his hand'.

Holding up the Beatles cover, I laughed, "I'm talking about the song, Wolfhard."

As soon as he realized it, his cheeks flushed red, and he scooped up the fallen records in haste. His head pointed to the ground in embarrassment and he rushed behind the desk, ducking down till I couldn't see him.

Letting out an amused sigh, I turned back to the record player, turning it on. The vintage tune echoed out just like it was being played for the first time. I loved it.

Then I had an idea.

I didn't know if it would work or not, or if it even was a good idea, but I desperately wanted to find out. Spinning around, I creeped up to the desk, leaning over the counter until I could see the top of Finn's black curls. He was shoving the vinyls into a box, clearly trying to forget about the moment that previously happened.

"Would you like to dance?" I offered, causing him to flinch, "you can hold my hand."

Setting down the vinyls, he stood up, biting his lip. He looked flustered, "I don't dance."

That was a shock to me, but I wasn't going to give up. I wanted to dance with Finn, while John, Paul, George, and Ringo played in the background.

"You don't dance?" I questioned, pouting, "or you won't dance with me?"

"I just can't dance."

"Easy," I said, holding out my hand, "then I'll teach you."

Finn looked hesitant, maybe even a little nervous, but he placed his hand in mine eventually. Giving our palms a little squeeze, I dragged him into the center of the room.

"Put your hands around my waist," I said, already wrapping mine on top of his shoulders. Finn did as I said, and I flashed a big smile.

"So what's next?" He asked, staring directly back at me.

"We just move."

"But where?"

"However you want," I nodded, "just feel the beat of the Beatles."

And so we danced! Well, danced. Finn would occasionally step on my feet, or knock his head against mine on accident. Most of the time we had to stop dancing because we were giggling at the ridiculousness of it all. Gosh, if only my bandmates could see me now. Finn may have been rusty at the beginning, but little did he know,  I found it absolutely adorable.

Finn Wolfhard wanted to dance with me!

 But that wasn't the best part. At one point the song stopped playing, the record player starting to buzz as the tone arm dwindled off the plate. We didn't care. At All. Even without the music, we just kept dancing.

And we weren't going to stop.