Randy had seen her before. A couple of times, actually.

At school, she wasn’t loud or attention-seeking, didn’t run with the popular crowd, didn’t make a spectacle of herself. But that was what made her interesting. She was there, always hovering on the outskirts, like someone waiting for their cue to step into the main scene. And Randy? He’d noticed.

Of course, noticing didn’t mean doing anything about it. That was a whole different beast.

Which was why, when she strolled into the video store, his brain decided to short-circuit for a second.

She wasn’t lost, that much was clear. She moved with purpose, heading straight for the horror section, her fingers skimming over the plastic cases like she knew exactly what she was looking for. That was a good sign. A great sign. It meant she wasn’t one of those 'Ugh, horror movies are so dumb and unrealistic' types. Maybe—just maybe—she got it.

Randy swallowed, suddenly hyper-aware that his hands were gripping the counter way too hard. Play it cool. Just a girl. A girl who likes horror. A girl who might be the one person in this entire town who understands why the original Night of the Living Dead is superior to any of its remakes. No big deal.

Still, his heart did this stupid little kick when she paused, tilting her head slightly as she examined a Halloween tape. Oh. Oh, we’re really doing this?

Alright. He had to say something.

Pushing off the counter, he took a casual—okay, semi-casual—stride over to where she stood. Cleared his throat just enough to be noticed but not enough to seem desperate.

"You’re holding a classic right there," he said, nodding at the Halloween tape in her hands. "Total masterpiece. If you tell me you’ve never seen it, I might actually have to stage an intervention."