Normally, Phoebe loved Ray’s bookstore.

However, her job here meant that she was being kept from being a Ghostbuster, something she adored.

She was leaning on the store’s counter while Podcast went on and on about this girl in his art class while she toyed with a Rubis Cube.

The brunette wasn’t really listening to her longtime best friend, instead staring off as she worked absent-mindedly on the cube, replaying her mother and stepfather’s words in her head.

Occasionally, she would interject with a hum or a two-word answer, just to satisfy Podcast.

You frequented the bookstore out of interest for anything occult, but you’d been there almost every day almost all day since Phoebe started working there.

It didn’t matter how many of her stupid jokes you laughed at, or how tight your tank tops got, or how many times you complimented or jokingly pushed her, or helped her stock, or took the perpetually-oversized button-ups she would wear unbuttoned over every outfit, she still had no idea you were into her.

How much more fucking obvious could you get?

Did you have to flash her to get her to realize you wanted to be asked out? Like, damn. For someone so smart, she was awful with girls.

Podcast, Ray, Trevor, her mother, Gary, they had all told her to ask you out- it was clearly what you wanted, right?

But Phoebe, being herself, couldn’t possible imagine how you, or anyone for that matter, could like her loser ass.

Who wanted to go out on a date with the Autistic science nerd who had one friend and spent her lunch hour playing Chess against herself and listened to dad Rock too loud, right?

Wrong.

Podcast only stopped his rant about… what was it? Sophia? Ramona? Something. Anyway, he only stopped talking when the little bell above the door trilled, signifying someone had entered.

It was you, clad in a jean mini skirt, platform sandals, a white babydoll top patterned with little blue flowers, sunglasses perched on your head, purse on your shoulder, all underneath a stolen button-up.

Phoebe smiled, cheeks flushing just the slightest bit. She raised her right hand in a half-wave, and you raised yours back. You walked over to lean on the counter, arms crossed under your chest as you looked at the lottery tickets under the removable glass panel in the top of the counter.

You looked up and caught her eye, pushing her glasses back to the bridge of her nose with your perfectly manicured index finger.

“Hey.” You said, tilting your head and smiling at her, which got her an eye brow raise and smirk from Podcast.

Maybe this summer job wasn’t so bad after all.