#countstump

You could hear the faint ticking of the old clock hanging on the wall, the seconds passing by slower than usual. You let out a short sigh, leaning on the register counter, chin resting on your palm.

The day had dragged on far too long, but the dusty record store you worked at would be closing soon, which meant you could go home and rot on the couch for a few hours before passing the hell out.

Just as you start to get up from behind the register counter to start the usual cleaning up before locking up, the tiny bell above the door chimed.

Of course, a customer less than 30 minutes before closing.

You give a pleasant customer service smile, giving your mandatory "welcome in!" greeting. Your eyes only glance at the stranger for a moment before darting back to them, this time wide eyed and slightly flushed.

It was a light skinned man, maybe in his late 30's or early 40's.

He had dark blonde hair that seemed to be grown out just enough for you to tell he liked it that way, despite looking like it needed a trim. His beard matched in color and seemed well maintained, shaping his face, making him look mature. He was more on the chubbier side but it fit his frame perfectly, only adding to his seemingly soft yet masculine aura.

He wore those stereotypical nerd glasses and had a dad hat with a logo of what was probably some older band. His T-shirt and denim jacket matched in vibe, artsy and full of references that probably shaped his personality, making him more inviting.

Was he, by any means, a model? No. But god, you had a type and he hit the nail on the head.

You couldn't help but have your gaze locked on him as he made his way towards his desired genre, Jazz, starting at letter A. You watch as he flicks through the vinyl's, mumbling softy at himself every time he stops on a record that catches his eye.

biting your bottom lip, you search for an opening to go up and talk to him. Mentally facepalming when you realize you work here, just go up and ask if he needs help, duh.

You finally leave the register counter, fixing your shirt as you get up, before moving towards him. He doesn't seem to notice your movement, pausing on another record and mumbling, "don’t have that one yet." He picks it up, adding it to the small forming pile in his arms.

"Looking for anything specific today, sir?" you ask, now standing across from him on the other side of the crates holding the vinyl's. He jumps only slightly as your words knock him out of his focused state.

He blinks at you for a moment. You're pretty. Like, really pretty. The kind of pretty that could sell him anything with just a few words and a quick smile.

"Oh! Uh-" he answers quick, making sure it doesn't look like he's just staring like a creep. "No. Just looking. I saw this place while passing by and thought I could stop by." He gave a soft, almost embarrassed smile, realizing he already has a stack of records. "Glad I did, you guys have a good selection."

He looks around the small shop, realizing he's the only customer. "Uh- You guys are open, right?" he asks, hands suddenly sweaty from embarrassment. The "open" sign was definitely on, right? He read the hours correctly, right? Suddenly second guessing himself, wondering if he was being a total asshole right now.

You gave a soft laugh, "Yep, we're open. our closing time is in about thirty minutes though."

He gives a slight wince, "Shit- I didn't realize it was so close to closing-" but you cut him of with a soft wave of your hand, "Don't be! I'll be cleaning past closing anyways. I'm in no rush." a total lie, but you think you'd die if you kicked this handsome man out just because you wanna rot in bed.

He puts a hand to his chest, sighing in relief, "Oh thank gods- Thank you..." his eyes dart down to your name tag "Y/N." you fill in the gap "Thank you Y/N." he smiles appreciatively.

"Of course, happy to have you in!" giving a short nod, signaling as a 'I'll leave you alone now.' "I'll be cleaning up around the shop if you have any questions or concerns." already silently cursing yourself for how the conversation was so short and formal.

He returns the same nod, eyes going back to the records he has been flipping through, taking a deep breath to recalibrate himself.

----

After a few long moments of silence, besides the sound of his flicking through the records and you cleaning up, Patrick speaks up. "Do you guys play background music in here, or..." meeting him with a soft laugh from you.

"Usually, yeah. But I have the worst luck when it comes to playing vinyl's. They always end up scratched and scuffed." you shrug.

You'd definitely been scolded at for not playing music but it wasn't worth the cost of having to buy the records you messed up, plus it wasn't your fault they didn't allow you to play music from your phone.

"Ironic to be working here, right?"

He gives a nod, understanding as he flips the record he's holding, reading the lists of songs on it before he speaks up again. "If I buy this one, you think I could play it? just a few of the songs. Yknow- to make sure it plays right." he's already moving towards the register, putting the record, Miles Davis' Kind of Blue, on the counter.

You give a soft laugh, moving to the other side of the register. "Its your luck, not mine." you shrug with a smile, fulfilling the transaction. "Player is over there," you point at the little display at the corner of the room, holding a player and a place to show off the records cover.

He smiles, taking the record from her hand after paying. "Wanna see how I play 'em? maybe you could learn a thing or two...?" he offers softly.

You cant help but raise a brow, scoffing. "Gonna mansplain record playing to me?" you cant help but tease, laughing as you watch him sputter, face fully flushed now.

"What? no- nonono- I just meant-" you stop him with another wave of your hand "I know- I know. Just joking with you... uh-" you wait for him to fill in the gap with his name. "Right! Patrick- I'm Patrick."

"Patrick." You test the name on your tongue, nodding when it sounds right "Show me you record playing ways, Patrick."

----

It's a little past closing, not that either of you were paying much attention to time. you both were distracted in conversation, sharing your favorite albums and genres, giving recommendations and "must listen to" artists.

Patrick eventually checks out his stack of records, spending way more than he originally planned because who can say no to a pretty lady telling him he absolutely has to listen to this album? Not him, apparently.

"Hopefully I'll see you around?" he gives a hopeful smile, having genuinely enjoyed your shared conversation. Despite how much he'd like to, he knows it might freak you out if he asks for your number right now, considering they were alone in the shop and it was past closing.

You give a quiet hum, nodding, "I'll be here. Come by any time, I could get used to a handsome face like yours being around." giving him a wink as you hand him his box (yes, a box, because he had far too many vinyl's to trust a bag with holding them) of records.

He gives a soft yet victorious smile, happy to have not been shut down. "In that case, I'll find my way back here with some of my takeaways from your oh so sweet recommendations." he gently teased, returning the wink, simply because he doesn't have the hands to wave.

"Bye, nice meeting you Y/N!" he presses his back against the door, pushing it open for himself to leave. "See ya, Patrick. Be safe out there!" you wave.

Once he was out of sight, you let out a loud sigh. You were happy to have such a sweet encounter but you still had some cleaning up to do. "Fuck." you groan, tired head in your hands. Yeah, you were going to pass out the second you got home.

A/N: can you tell I've never written dialog? this fic writing shit is hard. also is the color coding of the dialogue too much? it personally helps me but idk if other people like it :P