𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎

Brooke adjusted the tangled wires of her earbuds as she stepped into the small, cramped music shop tucked between the antique bookstore and the candle store that always smelled too strongly of cinnamon.

The place was practically a shrine to CDs and cassette tapes—faded posters of The Cure and Alanis Morissette plastered on the walls, and a lazy ceiling fan that creaked like it was protesting its own existence.

She made a beeline toward the wall of cassettes, thumbing through the racks with practiced ease.

Her Walkman clunked softly against her hip as she moved, headphones slung around her neck.

"Looking for heartbreak or headbanging today?" came a voice behind her.

Brooke turned—and blinked. Mathew.

Standing awkwardly with his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his hoodie, he looked like he'd been dropped straight out of a teen drama and hadn't figured out what to do with himself yet.

Brooke gave a half-smile. "You know, that's actually a very personal question."

Mathew laughed softly, the sound nervous. "Sorry. Just—uh—I've seen you in here before. You like good stuff."

Brooke raised a brow. "That better not be an insult to my Alanis phase."

"No," he said quickly, then grimaced. "I mean, yes. No, I—uh—you have great taste. I mean. Yeah."

She bit back a laugh. "That was smooth."

He scratched the back of his neck. "I'm working on it."

There was a beat of silence while she looked at him, and he looked at anything that wasn't her. Finally, he took a small step closer.

"Actually," he said, voice a little quieter now, "I was wondering... maybe you'd wanna go out sometime?"

Brooke blinked. "Go out?"

"Like—not like out out, unless you want to," he rushed. "Just maybe coffee? Or a walk? Or like... whatever people do when they hang out in this town without Taylor organizing it."

She opened her mouth, then hesitated. She didn't dislike Mathew—he was cute in a gentle, slow-burning kind of way.

But the way Rae's eyes always lingered on him? And the way Rae had been talking about him more and more lately?

Brooke offered him a small, sincere smile. "That's really sweet. But, um... have you met Rae?"

Mathew blinked. "Rae?"

Brooke nodded toward the window.

Outside, Rae and Lena were waiting on the bench, sipping iced coffees and trying to shoo away a bee that had taken a special liking to Rae's hair.

"Rae's awesome," Brooke said. "Funny. Smart. She knows how to build a fire from scratch, which honestly? Hot - shes is hot "

Mathew tilted his head slightly, brows raised.

"She's a great girl," Brooke added, a little too quickly.

He looked at her for a moment—really looked—and something flickered across his face. Realization, maybe. Or disappointment.

"Oh," he said, his voice flat in that polite-boy way.

Brooke gave a small shrug. "Just saying. You should talk to her."

Before it could get weirder, she grabbed a cassette off the rack—some 90s alt-rock band with terrible cover art—and gave Mathew one more smile.

"Good luck out there," she said, tapping her Walkman. "The soundtrack's half the battle."

Then she turned and walked out, headphones back over her ears, just as the chorus kicked in.

From the bench, Rae looked up with hopeful eyes. "Hey! What took so long?"

Brooke flopped down beside her, handing her the iced coffee she'd left inside.

"Nothing," she said casually, then glanced sideways. "So... you like shy boys who listen to sad music?"

Rae turned pink. "What?"

Brooke just grinned—and somewhere behind them, Mathew was still standing in the shop, holding a cassette he hadn't meant to pick up, looking like he'd missed a train and wasn't sure if he was supposed to chase it.