there was a perfectly good bench not ten feet away, but indiana had made herself comfortable on the curb outside of the record store. she’d been in there since her shift ended, taking it upon herself to pick out half decent records that she thought austin would like. or at the very least, music that they could be satisfied was better than whatever bland music taste austin had. sure, there was nothing wrong with pop and the top 40′s, like they suspected austin liked, but there was just so much more waiting to be discovered. lighting up a cigarette as they waited, a bag on the curb next to her, they grinned as she saw austin show up. the text they’d sent was simply the location and time to meet up, five minutes after the record store closed, so he couldn’t exchange them immediately. “right on time,” they called, patting the curb next to them.