The Record Store;

iii

the record store; iii; gabrielle aplin.

[dedicated to cavalieryouths, my wonderful friend who always changes her username to words i have to think about the spelling of: that's this one, and the paper towns reference on your other account. i hope you have an excellent year x]

"Yes." He said to me. "I'm guessing you play something along the lines of a musical instrument, seeing as you're here, too."

I shook my head. "Nope." I said back, popping the 'p' at the end.

He stood there for a little while, unsure of what to say back. His guitar was resting between the floor and his left hand, and his right remained in his pocket. I stood with my left leg crossed over my right: the position that I always unintentionally took when I was unaware of what to do next, or when I was partaking in something of an awkward silence.

"Been keeping well?" He asked. It was obviously a filler question.

"Yeah." I said. I wasn't exactly making the conversation easy for him, but I really had no idea what to do. "You?"

"As good as it gets when all you're doing is stacking CD's all day."

I guessed it was a little bit of a tedious job, no matter how much you liked music, or stacking CD's, for that matter. I changed my position into something a little more comfortable, and waited for him to say something else, or me to step forward and play a part in the conversation, instead of just a few small words.

"So." He said, saving me from asking something I'd probably be too embarrassed to remember later. "Did you come here for any reason tonight? Wait." He paused. "I didn't mean it to come across as rude. Sorry."

"No problem about the phrasing thingy." I thought in my head, I couldn't have thought of a better way to phrase it. "And I don't really know why I'm here, I guess I just came." It was part of the truth, at least.

"Nice." He said. "Now I know one more thing about you."

"What exactly do you know about me?" I questioned, I was a little puzzled.

"You're Hollie, and you enjoy making random appearances at open mic nights." He smiled.

"I think..." I paused. "...that is the best description that anyone had ever given of me."

"I think you're a little more interesting than that." He said, and I shrugged my shoulders.

At this point, most of the people around us had cleared out, and people with clip-on name cards were removing speakers and untangling wires. I took my scarf from my arm and placed it around my neck. I guess it was half of an 'I actually can't be bothered to carry it', and half a subliminal message of 'I really don't want to be the last person left in here'.

Luckily, or unluckily, Davie took it as the second.

"Did you walk here?" He said as we walked out.

"Yeah." I said. "Probably going to call for a cab or something, for the way back."

"Walking's always an option." He said. "I'll walk you home."

"I'll let you know one thing about me. Actually, two more." I said. "I hate walking, and I live about two miles away. And it's pitch black outside."

"I'll give you a piggyback or something?" He questioned. I nodded, he seemed like he wouldn't leave the matter unless I agreed. "I can find more out about you, then."

"There's still a chance of me backing out of this, remember."

"Sure." He said, as we stepped outside, and I put my coat on, as he put his guitar, which he'd already placed into it's case, on his back.