I bop my head along to the song playing over the shop's sound system. My best friend, Ash, watches amusedly as I jam out to "Gimme Shelter" by the Rolling Stones while washing the counter.

"Stop staring and get back to work, Ashlynn," I instruct in a sing-song voice.

"I am working," she retorts, gesturing to the espresso machine she's cleaning. "Maybe you should get back to work."

"I'm multitasking. Besides, I own the place; I don't have to work if I don't want to."

She sticks her tongue out at me and I flip her off, ending our playful banter. Ash was the first friend I made when I moved to New York City, and we've practically been inseparable ever since. Despite her technically being my employee, she's more like a co-owner of the shop. We're partners in crime. Well, if selling records, books, and beverages counts as crime.

The gentle patter of rain on the roof relaxes me as I work. To most people, a day full of clouds and rain is automatically a bad one, but I love the rain. There's just something about sitting inside with a book in a candle-lit room while it rains; it feels like home. That's exactly the atmosphere I try to create in the shop; on days like this, I always dim the lights, light some candles, and lower the volume of the music.

My regulars love it, I love it, Ash loves it, and Syd loves it. Speaking of Syd: "Syd, honey, where are you?" I call out.

The five-year-old girl peaks her head around one of the bookshelves and says, "Right here, Momma. I like this book." I squint my eyes to read the cover. War and Peace.

"Syd, put that book back. You're a smart kid, but you aren't nearly old enough to read that. At least wait until you're ten," I tell her. I know she won't be reading War and Peace when she's ten, but a little childhood false hope never hurt anybody.

"Fine," she grumbles, putting the large book back where she found it.

"Thank you."

"Momma, can I watch Shrek on the big TV?"

"Sure, just keep the volume low." There's an area with a TV and a couple of bean bag chairs, and that's usually where she likes to hang out. I don't mind as long as she doesn't disturb the customers.

She quickly gets lost in the movie and a smile at her Shrek impression as she quotes the movie.

"Y/N, can you go out back and grab more napkins to fill the dispenser?" Ash asks from behind the cafe counter.

I nod and make my way through the employees-only door that leads out back. As I'm opening a box of napkins, I can hear the bell that signals the front door opening, followed by a faint conversation that I can't really hear through the walls. I'm a bit surprised that we have a customer, considering the light rain had passed and now it's pouring outside.

I grab a package of napkins and walk back out. I don't pay much attention to my surroundings as I fill the dispenser. But when I'm finished, my jaw drops at the customer standing in an aisle of records. Is that Florence Pugh?

I clear my throat and quickly regain my composure, although I'm still freaking out on the inside. She's just a person, I think to myself. No need to freak out or anything.

The song ends and "Dreams" by Fleetwood Mac comes on. I smile and mouth along to the lyrics as I busy myself with organizing the book section of the store.

I risk a glance at the woman and see her singing softly with a small smile. I bite my lip to contain a laugh at the way she subtly dances to the music.

"Whatcha doin?"

"Oh Jesus!" I jump, covering my racing heart with my hand as I recover from the scare. "Don't do that, Ash," I scold with a slap to her shoulder.

"Are you stalking the customer?" she whispers. "I mean, she's hot and you should definitely go for it, but this is kinda creepy."

"I'm not stalking her!" I whisper-yell. "I'm...reorganizing the books."

"Uh-huh. Reorganizing the books while watching her sing along to one of your favorite songs with a dumbass smile on your face," she deadpans.

"Shut up."

"You're just mad 'cause you know I'm right," she says before walking away. I roll my eyes at her childish antics.

"Excuse me, I was wondering if you have anything by Paramore? All of my American friends are telling me that I need to listen to their music and I was just walking by and I thought 'well, why not' so here I am," she rambles, her accent shining through each of her words.

"Oh, uh, yeah, of course! We've got tons of Paramore," I stutter out, leading her to the section I've dubbed the 'emo corner.'

"So, we've got Riot, Brand New Eyes, and Paramore. If you want any of their other albums, I can order 'em and have them in by the end of the week," I tell her.

"Well, what would you recommend? I'm not very familiar with this genre, and I've no idea where to start," she inquires with a sweet half-smile.

"Oh, jeez, well I grew up on this stuff, so...I think I would recommend Riot. It's got a lot of my personal favorites."

I gently pull the vinyl off the shelf and hand it to her. She looks it over and nods her head. "Then this is the one I'll get. Thank you very much."

"It's my pleasure. Will that be all today?"

"Yes. Actually, maybe some Yorkshire tea if you have it?"

"We most certainly do," I confirm as I lead her to the checkout counter, which is a few feet away from the cafe counter. "Ash, Yorkshire tea," I call out. She doesn't respond and I look over to see her smiling down at her phone. I love that girl, but sometimes I want to smack her upside the head.

"Ashlynn! Éteigne ton téléphone et fais du thé pour cette femme!" I yell at her (translation: turn off your phone and make tea for this woman). Her head snaps up at the angry French and she gives me a sheepish smile before getting Florence's tea started.

I look back over to Florence, who is looking at me with raised eyebrows and laughing silently. I shake my head with a smirk and ring her up. Ash brings the tea over and gives it to Florence. While she's distracted, I flip over the receipt and write "'For a Pessimist, I'm Pretty Optimistic' is my favorite on this album :)"

I hand her the receipt and we exchange a quick goodbye before she walks out of the store. I sigh with a small smile, convincing myself that actually just happened.

"Did you write your number on the receipt?" Ash asks excitedly.

"What? No," I deny. "I wrote a song recommendation."

"Well that's boring. You had the perfect opportunity," she complains.

I shrug my shoulders and laugh at her displeasure with my lack of flirting.

"Momma, was that your girlfriend?" Syd yells from her spot in a beanbag chair.

"No, Sydney, she's not my girlfriend. I don't even know her. Go back to your movie."

She turns back around and resumes the movie with little enthusiasm. Kids.