Steve Harrington adjusted his sailor hat for the umpteenth time, glancing at the clock for what felt like the hundredth time that day. The fluorescent lights of Scoops Ahoy hummed overhead, casting a faint glow on the faux-nautical décor, and the constant chime of the mall’s foot traffic drifted through the door. Steve leaned back against the counter, half-heartedly spinning an ice cream scoop in his hand. It was just another typical day at Starcourt Mall. Another round of serving annoying kids with sticky hands or bored teenagers trying to get free samples.

That is, until you walked in.

The bell above the door gave its usual soft jingle, but to Steve, it might as well have been the opening notes of a symphony. He glanced up out of habit, but when his eyes landed on you, everything seemed to slow down. You had an effortless confidence about you as you strolled into the shop, scanning the brightly colored ice cream tubs behind the counter. The neon lights from the mall outside caught on your features, making them glow in a way that left Steve momentarily frozen in place.

His grip on the scoop tightened, and for a brief second, he forgot where he was. Who the hell is that? he thought, heart doing a little stutter in his chest. You hadn’t even looked at him yet, but just the sight of you had him standing up straighter, feeling like a dork for the stupid sailor outfit he was forced to wear.

You finally approached the counter, glancing up at the flavor board, oblivious to the way Steve was staring at you, or maybe just pretending not to notice.

"Hey," you said casually, your voice cutting through the daze in his head. "What do you recommend?"

Steve opened his mouth, but no sound came out at first. His brain was scrambling to catch up to the situation, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Uh… ice cream?" he stammered, then immediately cringed internally. Smooth, Harrington. Real smooth.