The Middle | Hemmings + Styles AU

13. friday i'm in love

I was only sixteen when I first walked into Grunge's store.

Prior to that, I used to get all of my CD's from department stores. They felt so impersonal, though. You could tell that the people on the floor in the music sections didn't really have a love for music. They were just there to clock on and receive a pay-check at the end of the week.

Walking into Grunge's store was slightly intimidating, to say the least. His rough appearance made me slightly wary and I could tell by the way that he looked at me - in my skinny jeans and sneakers - that he thought I was just a clueless kid after the latest pop release.

Seeing the old records hanging on the walls and rows after rows of albums on shelves lit a fire within me. Music was one of the purest forms of art, and Grunge's store made me feel grateful that there were other people like me out there. Other people that didn't just pick up a CD and sing along to the catchy songs.

People like Grunge and I, we consumed music whole-heartedly until it was flowing through our veins, helping to keep us alive.

"I'd like to apply for the job," An un-characteristic enthusiasm surged through my voice as I pointed towards the Store Assistant Wanted sign that hang on the front window.

Grunge looked at me with an entertained smile, "You have to be seventeen to apply."

My birthday was only three weeks away, so I did what anyone else in my position would have done. I lied. "I am seventeen." I said with the utmost defiance. Then he asked me what my favourite album was. He was testing me.

"I'm not going to say anything by The Beatles, Michael Jackson or Madonna. Because, while all uniquely great, that would be too cliche of an answer." Grunge laughed then, his big belly jiggling underneath the Metallica t-shirt he was wearing.

"Choosing one album of all time is very restricting, I'd say The Cure is up there - "

"Let me guess, Friday I'm in Love?"

I remember being annoyed that he had cut me off, and even more annoyed that he thought he had me figured out. And boy, was I going to prove him wrong.

"Friday I'm in Love is a good song, but Wish was not their strongest album. I was going to say their Disintegration album." I'd said with a glare. I could tell straight away that he was surprised. Maybe even impressed.

We ended up talking for another twenty minutes and then he gave me the job on the spot. "You start Sunday morning, kid."

Fast forward almost two years and here I was, sitting in the store on a Sunday morning. I wasn't a store assistant anymore, I was store manager. I'd earned something else too. Something more important than any title could be: Grunge's respect.

It made me feel confident that he trusted my judgement; in music, and in running the store. It reassured me that I wasn't wasting my life selling CDs to people. I was a part of something, and one day, I'd be part of an even bigger something.

When that day came, I wouldn't just be selling CDs to people. I'd be making people's dreams come true.

"Here," I slid the printed copy of the email across the counter. "This is what Pilot Records are proposing." The emailed proposal - which I was surprised to see didn't come from Harry - was very attractive.

Our side of the deal required minimal effort and we'd be rewarded with a rather generous fee. The only thing that made me slightly worried was that they wanted us to put one large poster in the front window per month. Did it bother me? Not really. Grunge on the other hand had always been against the idea.

His eyes scanned over the email quickly and he nodded, "Let's do it."

"Really? Even the part about the front window?" Grunge nodded again. I guessed that money really did make the world go round.

"Great, I'll email," - my eyes turned back down the the printout. - "Clark and finalise the details."

I didn't mention that I'd been expecting - or hoping - that Harry would be the one to email me. When my Macbook sounded the alert with a new email, I'd abandoned the Dance Moms marathon Aunty Peg and I were watching, and opened my laptop faster than a fangirl trying to score tickets to The 1975.

"Is that your friend from the record label?" Aunty Peg asked, and I brushed it off.

"One of his colleagues." I'd tried to remove the disappointment out of my tone. Aunty Peg noticed and offered me the last spring roll. I'd swallowed that thing down so fast, I didn't even dip it in sweet chilli sauce.

After going over the rest of Pilot's proposal, I decided to make the most of the fact that I was already at work on a Sunday and get stuck into some inventory. Before Grunge left the store that day, he tugged at his leather vest and gave me smile.

"You've done a good job here, kid. I'm happy you came in here two years ago and lied about your age."

-

"Tell me about your date with Lila."

It was Monday and Michael was hanging around the store like a bad smell. I meant that literally - he smelled like sweat and cigarettes.

If he had come into work for a particular purpose, he didn't say what it was. His long legs strolled through the aisles aimlessly and every so often, he'd pick up a CD and ask me what I thought of the band.

"Green Day?"

"Love them. Only prior to their American Idiot album."

Michael scoffed. "That album was sick."

"It sucked. Big time. Get some Popcocks and Coke into your diet," I smiled, referencing my favourite Green Day song.

In some ways, Michael reminded me of what I imagined a young-Grunge to be like. He kind of gave off a bad-ass vibe, with his ever-changing coloured hair and eyebrow piercing, but as soon as he smiled, you could tell his organs were made of fairy floss. He was sweet.

"The date went okay," he shrugged. "The Fray?"

"Over-rated, and whiny. With the exception of Hurricane and Love Don't Die. I'll tolerate those."

He smiled, nodding in agreement as he placed the CD back. "You really like music, huh?"

"You really like avoiding talking about Lila," I laughed, leaning against the counter as he walked closer towards me.

He shrugged again. Not nonchalantly though, more like he was trying to hide. "It's embarrassing."

"What's there to be embarrassed about?"

"Let's put you in the hot seat," he said with his eyebrows raised. "Tell me about your little crush on Luke."

I laughed, maybe too forcefully. "I don't have a little crush on Luke."

Michael's head pulled back slightly as he rolled his blue eyes, "Yeah, you do, Stella."

"No I don't, Michael."

"That's too bad," he tapped his hands twice on the counter and then took a step backwards, heading towards the door. "Because he has a crush on you."