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Days at the cramped bookstore where Josh worked dragged by in a haze of dusty pages and flickering fluorescent lights. The store was a labyrinth of books, their spines crammed wall to wall, interspersed with dangling plants that Josh had to trim so customers wouldn’t get smacked in the face. The air smelled like old books mingled with the faint, spicy tang of incense the owner insisted on burning daily. At first, Josh had hated it—too strong, too weird—but now it felt like home.
The bookstore was a treasure trove. Vintage comic books drew in collectors, their faces lighting up when they unearthed a hidden gem. The back corner housed an extensive music section, lined with sheet music, theory books, and dusty vinyl records—a draw for the students from the nearby music school.
It wasn’t Josh’s dream job, but it was easy, the quiet was calming, and there was something endearing about the eclectic cast of regulars.
Especially him .
Josh’s “favorite” customer stood out from the first time he walked in. Slightly out of place, with wide, curious eyes and an orange beanie pulled low over his ears, he always made a beeline for the music section. He’d linger there, flipping through the same books over and over, his lips moving silently as though he was reading them aloud in his head.
Josh called him Beanie in his mind and, from day one, had tried to strike up a conversation.
“Need help finding anything?” he asked the first time, mustering his friendliest smile.
Beanie shook his head with a polite, “Just browsing, thanks,” and offered a brief smile before turning back to the shelves.
Josh tried not to feel deflated, but Beanie kept coming back—always browsing, always lingering in the music section, always leaving empty-handed.
The next time, Josh tried again. “Are you studying at the music school nearby?”
Beanie blinked, surprised, then shook his head. “Oh, um, no,” he said softly before turning back to the books. He didn’t elaborate.
Josh returned to sorting the pile of books in front of him, his ears burning with the awkwardness of the moment. He usually wasn’t this bad at small talk, but Beanie threw him off his game. Maybe it was the guy’s quiet, unassuming demeanor—or maybe, if Josh was being honest, it was the growing crush he had on him.
Determined not to give up, Josh hatched a plan the next time Beanie showed up. He lingered near the music section, pretending to reorganize books that didn’t need it, hoping Beanie might finally ask for his help.
He didn’t.
Josh swallowed his disappointment, but his resolve only grew. Next time, he promised himself, he’d try harder. Something funny—something Beanie couldn’t brush off.
When Beanie returned a few days later, Josh leaned casually against the counter, flashing his best smile. “You’re probably the only reason we can afford to keep the lights on.”
The words landed awkwardly, the joke dangling in the air between them. Beanie frowned, tilting his head in confusion.
“What?” he asked, his voice soft enough to make Josh’s stomach flip.
“I meant…” Josh stumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “You come here a lot, and, uh, we don’t get many customers, so…”
Beanie’s frown deepened, and he glanced around as though confirming Josh was talking to him. “But I never buy anything,” he said, his voice barely above a murmur, as if genuinely baffled.
Josh winced, feeling the joke collapse under its own weight. “Yeah, I know…” he muttered, his embarrassment growing with every passing second.
Beanie kept looking at him, his expression unreadable, before silently turning back to the music section.
Josh busied himself with pricing a stack of CDs, avoiding looking up. He couldn’t help but feel like he’d blown it. The guy probably thought he was some weirdo, making unfunny jokes and lingering too much. Josh sighed, convinced he’d scared him off for good.
Thankfully, Beanie came back. Josh noticed the familiar orange beanie the second it stepped through the door, but he had learned his lesson. He stopped trying to make awkward small talk with the handsome man and resigned himself to appreciating his quiet presence from afar.
At least Beanie’s visits brought a sense of calm to the shop. Josh liked how he lingered in the music section, flipping through books like they held secrets only he could decipher. If nothing else, Beanie was a pleasant fixture in the bookstore’s daily rhythm, and Josh could settle back into his role as a regular cashier.
When business was slow—like most days—Josh entertained himself by writing little notes to tuck into the pages of books he liked. They weren’t detailed reviews or anything, just quick, handwritten messages on scraps of paper, little nudges for customers to pick up something they might enjoy. It wasn’t exactly a bestseller strategy, but it filled the long hours after the plants had been watered, the shelves tidied, and the floors swept.
Josh was scrolling through his phone behind the counter one quiet afternoon when a book slid into view across the counter. The sudden motion startled him, and he almost dropped his phone.
“I didn’t even hear you…” Josh started, but his words faltered when he looked up. Beanie was standing in front of him, soft brown eyes watching him curiously from under his hat.
“Did you write the note?” Beanie asked, his voice quiet and warm, with a tilt of his head that sent Josh’s heart into overdrive.
Josh’s mouth felt dry. “Huh? Oh, uh, yeah, I did,” he managed to say, hoping his voice didn’t betray how nervous he suddenly felt.
Beanie glanced down at the book, then back at Josh. “Is it really good?”
Josh followed his gaze. The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas.
“Well, it’s, uh… a classic,” Josh said dumbly.
Beanie chuckled softly, his lips quirking into a grin. “Yeah, I know that. But did you like it?”
Josh blinked, then nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yes. It’s… great. Very suspenseful, actually.” He started gaining a little confidence as he spoke. “You never know who’s really on whose side until the end. Keeps you on your toes.”
Beanie seemed to think it over, his grin widening. “Alright. I’ll take it, then,” he said, pulling out his wallet. “Guess I’ll finally contribute to your electricity bill.”
Josh blinked, momentarily stunned, then laughed, the tension in his chest easing. “Hey, I appreciate that. The lights thank you, too.”
Josh bagged the book, feeling an odd sense of triumph that, for once, he’d managed a relatively normal exchange. He handed it over, adding casually—too casually—“Hope you like it, Beanie.”
The words were out before he could stop them.
Beanie froze mid-reach, his grin faltering slightly. “What did you call me?”
Josh’s heart sank. Heat crawled up his neck and over his cheeks. He thought he’d actually nailed this one. “Uh, well, you always wear it,” he blurted, motioning vaguely toward Beanie’s orange beanie. “And it’s… orange?” As if that explained anything.
For a second, silence stretched between them, and then Beanie started to laugh. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough. I do wear it a lot, and I guess it’s kind of my thing.” He tapped the edge of the hat lightly with his fingers.
Then, as if throwing Josh a lifeline, he added, “Tyler.”
“Huh?”
“My name. It’s Tyler,” he said, meeting Josh’s eyes with an intensity that felt like it could pin him in place.
Tyler.
Josh’s heart flipped in his chest. His brain scrambled for a coherent response, but all he managed was standing there like a statue, the bag still dangling from his outstretched fingers.
Tyler reached for it, and when his fingers brushed against Josh’s, the contact sent an electric thrill down his spine. Tyler didn’t pull away immediately, either, letting the moment hang just long enough to make Josh’s breath hitch.
“Thanks for the recommendation, Josh,” Tyler said, his voice soft but deliberate.
Josh blinked. “How do you—”
Tyler tapped the little tag pinned to Josh’s chest.
“Oh.” Josh’s mouth closed with a snap, but it was too late to stop the wave of embarrassment climbing up to his ears.
Tyler smiled—this warm, teasing smile that made Josh’s knees feel weirdly unsteady. “See you around, Josh,” he said, emphasizing his name before turning to leave.
Josh watched him walk out of the store, every nerve in his body buzzing. Finally, he let himself drop onto the stool behind the counter, nearly toppling backward in the process.
His heart was pounding, his brain replaying every moment with a mix of giddy excitement and utter humiliation. What had started as a harmless little crush now felt like something alive and magnetic, pulling him in stronger than ever.
At least now he had a name. Tyler
Tyler came back around, offering Josh a polite smile over the counter before heading toward the music section. Josh debated asking if he’d started The Count of Monte Cristo, but he held back. It was a long book, and maybe Tyler hadn’t even cracked it open yet. Besides, he didn’t want to come across as overbearing.
Still, he wanted to talk to Tyler again—wanted to replace the memory of his embarrassing blunder with something a little less mortifying.
With the store mostly empty, Josh took a chance, leaving the register and weaving between bookshelves until he reached the music section. He pretended to search for something, stealing glances at Tyler from the corner of his eye.
Tyler was focused on a shelf, flipping through the same music theory books he always seemed to pick up. His brow was furrowed, and he was mumbling under his breath, as though having an argument with the pages.
Before Josh could stop himself, the words tumbled out: “Why don’t you ever buy one?”
The second the question left his lips, he cringed internally. Why did he keep blurting things out around Tyler? Normally, he was fine at keeping quiet, just nodding at the right times or cracking a couple of jokes. But around Tyler? His brain and mouth seemed to operate independently.
Tyler turned to him, not startled in the slightest, like he’d known Josh was there all along. “It doesn’t make sense to me,” he said simply.
Josh blinked. “Music theory?”
“Yeah.” Tyler’s gaze drifted back to the books, his fingers brushing over a spine. “I just… I don’t get it. I make music, but I don’t—there’s no rules. I mean, there are rules, but not…” He trailed off, his frustration evident in the furrow of his brow.
Josh watched him closely, something about Tyler’s candidness making him feel bold. “You make music? What kind?” he asked, his curiosity genuine.
Tyler hesitated, his lips twitching in thought. “Does that really interest you?”
“Of course.” Josh shrugged with a small smile. “It’s definitely more interesting than staring at the same books for hours on end.”
That earned a reaction. Tyler let out a soft snort, somewhere between a laugh and a huff. Josh couldn’t help but grin—he liked the sound.
“Do you sing, too?” Josh asked, the question escaping before he could stop it. “I mean, you’ve got a nice voice.”
Tyler blinked at him, as though caught off guard, but he didn’t seem annoyed. If anything, he looked almost thoughtful. “I try,” he admitted after a beat, his voice quieter now. “But I don’t know what kind of music I do.” He paused, his gaze drifting somewhere far off. “It’s hard to describe.”
“Could I listen to it?” Josh blurted out.
The moment the words escaped, he regretted them. Tyler froze, his gaze flickering away as a faint flush crept over his cheeks. It wasn’t much, but it was more than Josh had managed to elicit from him in all these weeks of polite grins and quiet indifference. Tyler fidgeted with his fingers, suddenly refusing to meet Josh’s eyes.
“I’ve never let anyone except my family listen to it,” Tyler admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Oh,” Josh said, stepping back slightly. He cursed himself for being so forward. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked.”
He scratched the back of his neck, feeling heat rise to his face. The air grew heavy with silence. Josh braced himself for Tyler to escape back to the comfort of the shelves, but Tyler didn’t move. He lingered, his expression tense and conflicted, like he was weighing a decision he wasn’t sure he wanted to make.
Finally, Tyler gulped, offering a small, placid smile. “It’s fine. You were just being nice,” he mumbled.
Josh winced inwardly at the tone. Tyler’s words felt like a quiet dismissal, as if he were just another friendly cashier making small talk with a regular. But that wasn’t it. That wasn’t it at all. Josh wanted to shake him, to say something that would cut through that guarded exterior Tyler seemed determined to keep up.
Instead, his mouth went rogue. “Can we go out sometime?”
Oh.
Oh no.
The words hung between them, thick and heavy. Josh’s heart plummeted as Tyler looked up at him, startled, his mouth falling open in shock.
“Sorry, could you help me pick something?” came a voice from behind Josh, sharp and invasive.
Josh turned on instinct, his customer-service reflexes kicking in. “Of course!” he chirped, pasting on a smile as he pivoted toward the interruption.
But his mind was stuck on Tyler—on the look of surprise in his wide eyes, on the way he didn’t respond. Josh fought the urge to glance back, willing himself to focus on the customer in front of him.
By the time he finished helping them, his chest tight and his nerves frayed, Tyler was gone.
Josh stared at the empty space where Tyler had been, a deep ache settling in his gut. He replayed the moment over and over, cringing at himself. He’d been desperate to show Tyler that he cared—not as a cashier making small talk, but as someone who wanted to be a part of his life.
And now he’d ruined it.
A CD slid across the counter. Josh looked up, his heart skipping a beat when his eyes met Tyler’s, only for Tyler to quickly glance away, focusing instead on the orchids perched on a nearby shelf.
“It’s a demo,” Tyler said, his voice quiet but steady. “It’s not great, but… that’s my music.”
Josh thought his heart might burst. “I bet it’s greater than you think,” he said softly, his fingers brushing the CD case.
Tyler had come back—not just physically, but emotionally. He’d brought something deeply personal, something he’d never shared beyond his family. Josh didn’t know what had prompted Tyler to take this leap, but he was grateful for it. This wasn’t just a gesture; it was trust, plain and simple. Tyler was letting down his guard, and Josh felt the weight of that gift.
For a moment, Tyler didn’t say anything, his eyes still fixed on the orchid. Josh could see the gears turning, the words forming. He resisted the urge to fill the silence with his usual rambling. He wouldn’t mess this up again.
Finally, Tyler looked at him, resolve in his gaze. “You asked me out last time,” he said.
The words were so soft that, had the bookstore not been empty, Josh might have missed them entirely.
“I did,” Josh replied, careful to keep his voice steady. He wasn’t sure where this was going, but he wasn’t about to back down.
“Why?” Tyler asked, his brows furrowing like he was genuinely confused.
Josh felt his brain short-circuit. He wanted to pick the perfect words, something meaningful and true. But his thoughts jumbled together, colliding in a chaotic mess. And then, before he could overthink it—
“‘Cause you’re cute,” he blurted out.
Tyler’s eyes widened slightly, but Josh pushed on, his cheeks burning. “And I’ve noticed you since the first time you came in. I act like an idiot around you. And—then you picked a book I recommended, and… I don’t know. I think you’re interesting. I’d like to know you.” His voice softened as he finished, the words tumbling out raw and unpolished. “It’s stupid, maybe. But it’s the truth.”
Tyler’s lips twitched, a faint grin forming. “Is that why I got a nickname?” he asked.
Josh snorted, the tension breaking just slightly. “What, you mean Beanie? I couldn’t call you Cute-Guy-From-The-Music-Section all the time.”
Tyler chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck, his blush creeping to the tips of his ears. “I think it’s fitting,” he said, his tone teasing but warm.
Josh felt his chest loosen, hope blooming in his ribcage. “So, does that mean I get to know you?” he asked, his mouth running ahead of him again, but this time, it didn’t feel like a mistake.
Tyler nodded, his eyes glinting with something Josh couldn’t quite decipher yet. “That’s why I brought this,” he said, nodding toward the CD. “I think… this is the best way for you to see if you really want to know me. And then…” Tyler hesitated, his grin widening. “Then we’ll get a drink.”
Josh’s heart swelled. “Is that a promise?” he asked, his fingers tracing the edge of the CD case.
“It’s a promise,” Tyler said softly, his gaze steady and sure.
Josh watched Tyler walk out of the store, the CD still warm in his hand. He didn’t know what Tyler’s music would sound like, but it didn’t matter. He already knew he wanted to keep that promise. One day, he’d learn every expression on Tyler’s face, every hidden corner of his mind.
And he’d treasure every single second of it.