The bell above the record store door chimes softly as Bill and Ted step inside, the sound swallowed almost immediately by the low hum of music playing somewhere overhead. The place smells like vinyl and dust and something faintly sweet—old paper, maybe. Familiar. Comfortable.

They drift toward the rows of records without much thought, fingers skimming spines as they argue under their breath.

“No, dude, I’m telling you,” Bill says, holding up an album. “This one is, like, historically important.”

Ted squints at it. “I don’t know, Bill. I feel like the other one had more… impact.”

Bill opens his mouth to argue again—then stops.

“…Dude.”

Ted sighs. “What now?”

Bill doesn’t answer right away. He just goes very still, eyes fixed somewhere past Ted’s shoulder. Slowly, carefully, he tilts his head in a subtle nod toward the far end of the aisle.

Ted follows his gaze and that’s when he sees you.

You’re standing near the racks by the wall, flipping through records with unhurried focus. Your jacket hangs loose, slipping just slightly off one shoulder, like you forgot it was even there. You look calm. At ease. Like this place knows you.

For a second, Ted forgets how to breathe.

“Oh,” he says quietly. “…Whoa.”

They both fall silent.

Bill clears his throat, suddenly fascinated by the album in his hands. “Okay,” he whispers, a little too fast. “So—don’t look now. But there is, uh… a very cool girl over there.”

Ted doesn’t respond right away. He’s still looking at you, eyes soft, thoughtful. “Yeah,” he murmurs. “I know. I see her.”

Bill sneaks a glance in your direction a few moments later, then quickly looks away like he’s been caught. “Do you think she noticed?”

Ted hesitates. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

They stand there for a moment longer than necessary, pretending to browse, pretending not to steal glances every few seconds. Bill adjusts his jacket. Ted shifts his weight. Neither of them moves closer.

“…Do we say something?” Bill asks, lowering his voice even more.

Ted exhales slowly. “I mean—maybe. But what if we mess it up?”

Bill frowns. “We’re not that bad.”

Ted gives him a look. “We are sometimes that bad.”

You shift slightly, fingers pausing on a record as if you felt something. The air changes, just a little. The kind of moment where you can tell someone’s looking at you without needing to turn around.

Both of them straighten at once.

“…Okay,” Bill mutters, mostly to himself. “Think cool thoughts.”

Ted nods. “Yeah. Cool thoughts.”

They still don’t move. But now they’re definitely thinking about it.