Gavin Gore

Gavin runs his fingers along the edges of the VHS cases, barely reading the titles as he flips through the fantasy section. He tells himself he's looking for something new to rent: some obscure movie with knights, wizards, or, preferably, Bigfoot. But every now and then, he looks up, peering over the shelves, stealing glances at the counter.

Isaela is behind the counter, sorting through a pile of returns, completely unaware that she's become the most interesting thing in the room. Fascinating. She lingers a little longer than necessary, squinting slightly, as if studying something peculiar; as if she were some kind of anomaly, an enigma, a creature from another world in her natural habitat. There's a strange, childlike curiosity in the way she observes her, as if trying to unravel a great mystery, but unsure of what it is she's looking for.

He quickly lowers his head, finding himself engrossed in a random VHS tape. Of course, he doesn't stare; only weirdos stare. But perhaps, if he times it right, he'll manage to catch a moment when their eyes meet, just long enough for her to say something. Something brief, something just for him. Even if it's just a simple, "Hey, do you need help finding something?"

But maybe he should approach her. Say something. Maybe ask for a recommendation, even though he already knows what he wants. But then he risks seeming too obvious, and he's not sure he can handle that level of humiliation today.

Sometimes it's Sophie behind the counter, the one who knows perfectly well why he's lingering there so long, and she always gives him that mocking smile as if she were two steps ahead of him. And that's fine. He likes Sophie. But it's not the same.

So he stays a little longer, pretending to look while stealing another furtive glance. Just in case.