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The year was 1987. Ronald Reagan was president, Lady Di was still alive, the news thought D&D would turn your kids into satanists, and the mall was the epicenter of teenage social life. There, was where our story began.
Seth Cohen sat behind the counter, his eyes fixed on the Smoothie Palace. Their smoothies were subpar, their customer service abysmal, but that wasn’t why he liked them so much. No, the reason was much more shallow. Anna worked there. The girl he was pretty sure was the love of his life. She was perfect. Cool, pretty, intelligent-
“Cohen! A little help here?” Summer shouted. She smacked Seth.
“Um… ouch?” Seth said.
“The new Motley Crue’s not going to put away itself.” Summer said, handing Seth a stack of CDs, each one depicting a group of motor-cycle riding leather clad men.
Seth rolled his eyes. “Motley Crue sucks. We should stock-”
“The Cure. You say it everyday, Cohen. Y’know, not everyone likes their music all doom and gloomy. Some of us like to have a good time, thank you very much!” Said Summer, a goofy grin plastered across her face.
“Maybe, I’d help out more if you’d stop smacking me every time you want my help.” Seth grumbled. He stood up and walked over to the Rock section.
"Rage blackouts are actually a very serious disorder that affects millions of gorgeous girls in our fine nation. They’re no laughing matter.” She stood next to him, sorting the Metal CDs.
Seth always liked mornings like this. It was summer, and though the mall’s main customer base was free from school, weekdays like today were pretty slow. Meaning, the two of them were pretty much free to do whatever they wanted. A girl like Summer would never speak to him during the school year, she wouldn’t even dare look at him, but the mall was an entirely different universe. Here, at Dynamite Records, the two were almost friends.
Seth laughed. “Hey, what did I just say!” Summer shrieked.
“I’m not laughing,” Seth said, struggling to get the words out between giggles. She raised a fist, threateningly. Her hands looked comically small, not exactly much of a convincing threat.
He raised his palms. “I surrender, Summer, I surrender!” He picked up a copy of the Beatles’ White Album. “ I raise my white flag!”
Summer smiled widely and lowered her fists. “I accept your terms, Cohen,” She snatched the CD from his hands. “Maybe, I wouldn’t need to smack you if you didn’t spend so much time staring at Smoothie Girl.”
“She has a name! It’s Anna.” He grabbed the Beatles album out of Summer’s hands and placed it neatly in the Bs, behind the Beach Boys.
“Just Anna? Who is she, Madonna? She’s got a last name, too, right?”
“We… we haven’t gotten to the last name stage in our relationship yet. We’re taking things slow and steady, like the tortoise and the hare.”
“Or an elderly man. If you want her so bad, Cohen, you need to start talking to her. You need to pounce! Like a jaguar!”
“Or a sex offender.”
“Haha, Cohen.” She said, straight-faced. “Do you want to die a virgin, or do you want to grow some balls and get a girlfriend?”
“Hey! I’ve got balls! Just last week, she came in to buy the new Smiths album on cassette, and I said hello to her!” He picked up a Motley Crue CD from the stack and placed it among the Ms.
“Wow, you said hello to her,” Summer’s eyes widened, feigning interest. Seth smiled smugly. “By next week, you’ll be saying goodbye too.”
“I just need some time, that’s all. I’m not like the guys you go out with, Summer. I like to build a repertoire with a girl before asking her out. It’s hello and goodbye this week, who knows what we’ll be saying next.” He picked up the last Motley Crue from the pile and put it away.
He pulled himself off the ground. “I’m going to get more.”
“I’ll come with you. I put them in a weird place, you won’t find them on your own.” She stood up, wiping off her skirt.
The two walked into the stockroom. It was a small dark room, lined with cardboard boxes full of CDs and cassettes. Album names were scrawled across the boxes in Summer’s messy cursive.
She pointed to a box placed highly on the shelf. “Up there.”
“Geez, Summer, how’d you even get it up there?” He sighed. He walked up to the shelf and stood on his tip-toes, stretching to reach the box.
“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, Cohen.” She shrugged her shoulders.
He reached his arms out, his hands nearly touching the cardboard. His fingers grazed the box. He clawed at it with his nails. Suddenly, it came crashing down, the cardboard so close it nearly touched Seth’s face. He threw Summer to the ground, collapsing on top of her, narrowly avoiding getting hit. Glass shattered. The CDs spilled out of the box, their cases cracking.
“Jesus, Cohen, we could have died.” Summer said, her eyes wide, and her face white as a sheet. He took a deep breath, trying to regain his composure.
The door creaked open. Holly walked in. She wore a Dynamite Records nametag, and carried three cups. One in each hand, one nestled in the crook of her elbow.
“Alright, I’ve got a peppermint latte for me, a nonfat caramel macchiato for Summer, a black coffee for-” She looked down at the two, and shrieked.
“Oh, I’ll leave you two to do… whatever you’re doing.” She said.
Seth looked up, realizing he was still on top of Summer. In the blink of an eye, he became intimately aware of how close the two were, he felt the warmth of her breath, the softness of her skin against his. Was his heart beating faster? Had the room gotten warmer? Why were his hands so clammy?
He couldn’t feel like this. Summer was…. well… Summer! He pulled himself off the ground. “It’s not what it looks like!”
“I can’t believe it! You’re sleeping with Seth Cohen?” Holly shouted.