I was flipping through vinyl records, completely lost in my own world. The smell of old vinyl and the soft hum of indie music playing in the background made the tiny shop feel like a sanctuary. I wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just an excuse to escape the chaos of the day.

That’s when he appeared beside me.

“Good choice,” he said, nodding to the Fleetwood Mac album in my hands. His voice was smooth and warm, and when I looked up, I saw a guy who could have walked straight out of a vintage movie. He had a kind of effortless style, messy dark hair, rolled-up sleeves, and a leather bracelet on his wrist that made me wonder if he played guitar in some indie band.

I raised an eyebrow. “You’ve got good taste, then?” I asked, smirking a little, trying not to get too flustered by the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

“Always,” he replied, leaning casually against the shelf, his hands in his pockets. “But Rumours is kind of a classic. Hard to go wrong.”

We ended up talking right there in the aisle, surrounded by stacks of records and faintly flickering neon lights. He told me his name, Ethan, and I learned he was a regular at the shop, stopping by almost every week to add to his collection. He had a deep love for old rock and jazz records and teased me for spending so much time in the pop section.

“You’re missing out,” he said, pulling a record from the shelf and holding it out to me. “Coltrane. This will change your life.”

I laughed and shook my head. “I’m more of a lyrics person. Saxophones don’t sing.”

“They do if you listen closely enough,” he shot back, his grin widening.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, like we had known each other for years. I found myself lingering, my fingers brushing the spines of the records just to keep talking to him. Eventually, I picked a record to buy, and he offered to carry it for me.

“Chivalry isn’t dead after all,” I joked as we walked to the counter.

“Chivalry is alive and well,” he replied, his tone playful but his eyes warm.

As we stepped outside, the cool evening air hit my skin. The streetlights cast a golden glow on the pavement, and the world felt quieter than it had in a long time. Ethan hesitated for a moment, his hand brushing mine as he turned to face me.

“Mind if I do this?” he asked softly, his voice lower now, almost hesitant.

Before I could respond, he leaned in, his lips meeting mine in a kiss that was both unexpected and perfect. It was gentle but sure, like he had been waiting for just the right moment. The world seemed to blur around us, the passing cars, the faint sound of a street musician playing nearby, all of it melted away.

When he pulled back, I couldn’t help but smile, my cheeks warm despite the cool night.

“That was... unexpected,” I said, trying to sound casual even though my heart was racing.

“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?” he teased, his eyes twinkling.

“Definitely good,” I admitted, biting my lip to keep from grinning too much.

He walked me to my car, still holding the record I had picked out. Before leaving, he handed it back to me, his fingers lingering against mine for just a second longer than necessary.

“Next time you’re here, let me know,” he said, his voice soft but confident. “I’ll show you what real music sounds like.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “We’ll see about that.”

As I drove away, the record sitting on the seat beside me, I couldn’t stop smiling. It wasn’t just about the music, it was about the way he had stepped into my ordinary day and turned it into something unforgettable.