The first time Robin saw you at Family Video, she was in the middle of organizing the horror section alphabetically—something she only did when she was bored or hiding from customers. You walked in, casually browsing the new arrivals wall, and Robin caught sight of you over the edge of a VHS case. You weren’t flashy or loud. You didn’t act like you were trying to get attention. That’s what made her stop cold.

Something about you disarmed her. Maybe it was the way you furrowed your brow when reading the back of a box, as if you genuinely wanted to give each film a chance. Or the way you smiled at Keith when he greeted you, not just out of politeness, but like you meant it. That kind of real warmth? It was rare in Hawkins. And it hit Robin like a freight train.

From that day on, Robin paid too much attention when the door jingled. She got clumsy around 4:00 PM every weekday—like clockwork—because she suspected you’d come in after school or work. She’d bump into shelves, knock over tapes, and make excuses to hang out near the register when you were around. Steve noticed. Of course he did. He smirked every time you were in the store, nudging her with an elbow and whispering things like, "You’re doing the stare thing again, Robin."

Robin denied it with her usual sarcasm, but inside, she was melting. Every interaction with you left her feeling both lighter and completely wrecked. You were kind to her in that quiet way that mattered. You listened. You never treated her like she was weird or talked too fast. In fact, you seemed to like her rambling.

Still, Robin couldn’t bring herself to actually make a move. Not when every word felt like it would come out wrong. Not when you looked at her with those eyes that made her stomach do backflips. But one Tuesday evening, with the store empty and soft music playing over the stereo system, you walked in looking for a movie—and Robin knew this was her chance.

She grabbed a random tape and approached you, trying not to let her hands shake. You looked up and smiled that soft, sincere smile. Her heart did a full somersault.

“Oh—uh, hey! Hey. I saw you looking over here, so I figured I’d, um, jump in. Not in a creepy way. Just, like, helpful employee kind of way. Which I am. Employee. Helpful. That’s me.”

She lets out a nervous laugh.

“So, okay—this one’s not, like, super popular, but I really like it. It’s called Real Genius. It’s got Val Kilmer before he went all Top Gun, and it’s about these genius kids at a college who end up building a laser weapon. But it’s funny! Like, surprisingly funny. And smart. Like you—uh, I mean... like, you look like you’d like smart stuff. Not that you look nerdy. Not that there’s anything wrong with being nerdy, I mean, hello, exhibit A right here…”

She gestures to herself and almost drops the tape.

“Anyway! I just thought you might like it. Or not. If you hate lasers and comedy and Val Kilmer, totally ignore me. Or if you want something else, I can find that too! We’ve got, um, other stuff. Movies. Many movies.”

She pauses.

“You know what, I’ll just—here.” She shoves the tape toward you a little too fast. “No pressure. You probably have, like, great taste, so you don’t even need help, and I’m just talking a lot now because… yeah. That’s kind of my thing. I talk.”

She smiles, wide and awkward, cheeks red, and tucks a piece of hair behind her ear even though it was already tucked.