In college, I started working at the Whole Foods coffee bar after Petco rejected me. The 6am shift allowed me to make it to my afternoon/evening classes. I had every intention of working only, clocking in and out. One day, during the 8am rush, I was making drinks behind the bar. I overheard one of my coworkers talking with someone about a water bottle sticker, and my coworker pointed to me. Huh? I looked up. "That’s hers." I looked over to the person standing at the counter. "Where’s that record store?" I responded that it was in Tokyo. "Oh, that’s probably why I hadn’t heard of it." From the corner of my eye, I watched him take his cup, move over to the coffee pots, fill up on light roast, put the lid on, and walk away. It wasn’t until my heart rate had come down that I realized it had spiked. Does he like music? What kind of music does he like? What's in his record collection? Hmm. I knew so little about him, and I was too awkward to know how to learn more. From the coffee bar, I had a decent view of the kombucha aisle, which was near the drink refrigerator, which I knew he stocked. One day, I saw him over there. "I’m going to check on the kombucha," I told my coworkers. My heart spiked again for this person I didn’t know. I had no plan and nothing to say. Luckily, he started the conversation, "I wanted to ask you about something." Oh goodness. "Sure!" I put the kombucha kegs down and looked him in the eyes. He asked if I collected records. I had just started and knew very little, but I did go to a bring-your-own record bar, so I told him about this, hoping maybe he would say we should go together. He said he would “check it out” and I returned back to the coffee bar, realizing I did not learn anything more about him, get his contact, or set up a hang. Not much of a success, but I felt excited to just speak with him nonetheless. I strategically placed myself in more opportunities to speak with him, and in our two less-than-one-minute conversations about 1) my Vulfpeck sweater and 2) basketball podcasts, I felt some odd concoction of elation, nerves, and familiarity. Amidst all of this, another coworker had given me his number and asked me out on a date. I thought it would be worth a chance. The whole time, I wished it was Emmett, which was confusing but also affirming that I really did have a crush on this guy. On my last day at Whole Foods, I was hoping he would be there. However, we had some mutual friends, so my plan B was to get his contact information from them. He was there on my last day, and we exchanged contact. I was traveling for a month, so we messaged every day. He knew so much about my interests. And if he didn’t, he would learn. I had never met anyone who had heard of, let alone liked, both Andy Shauf and D’Angelo, two of my favorite artists at the time. Our friendship felt very special and I think I knew that we were already more than friends.

I didn’t know her name at first. I was a little nervous to ask, too. She was always engrossed in some sort of task (barista work is not for the faint of heart), and seemed to prefer not to socialize on the clock. Eventually, though, on one of my twice-daily trips to the coffee bar, I overheard a colleague call out to her: “Chanlynn!” Chanlynn, I whispered to myself. At the time, I had no designs on anything romantic, but for some reason, I knew I wanted to know more about this person. I started finding excuses to talk to her, and much to my delight, she reciprocated my energy. It slowly started to snowball from there. Over the next few months, I learned that Chanlynn consumed music with the same voraciousness and joy that I did. I learned that she had a brother with an NBA podcast (I subscribed and was surprised by how good it was) and a sister in LA who made YouTube videos. I learned that she was a climber, and watched her grip strength in action as she hoisted massive barrels of kombucha with just a few fingers. I learned that just beneath her gruff, professional exterior was an effervescent enthusiasm for life, and I learned how good it felt when she showed it off. I just had to learn one more thing - her phone number. Ah, the matter of Chanlynn’s phone number. This was no trivial exchange of information. I found out that she was leaving Whole Foods Market Newtonville on her very last day on the job, not from her, but from one of our coworkers. I can say with no exaggeration that I immediately threw down the yerba mate I was stocking while she was stocking kombucha, and (breathlessly) exclaimed, “I didn’t know you were leaving today!! Can I have your number?!” She looked me over. “No,” she replied, her lips curling into a smile, “but you can add me on Facebook…” We talked online almost every day for that next month. She was out of town for solo trips and family road trips, but we made plans to meet up when she got back to shoot some film in Allston. I was nervous as hell that night as I rounded the corner onto Lake Shore Road, but the nerves dissipated quickly once she bounded out that front door, tanned and radiant, wearing light blue shortalls and brandishing a cassette (Babyface’s "MTV Unplugged NYC 1997"). She handed it to me with a grin, climbed into my worn-down Toyota Matrix, and we were on our way.