A/N: Drabble based off a prompt by a Tumblr friend. It's short, just two Word pages. Nothing huge.
Set in a real world AU.
"Can I help you? Are you looking for something?"
Her eyes fell, her face heated, her hands screamed for a book, any book, she could grab to distract her from asking if she needed help, because she would obviously fluster and—
"Do you need anything?"
Her sight now fell on the little plastic card on her shirt, the card only she and the hired employee she had on the bookstore wore as uniform. "Hello! My name is VANELLOPE. And I'm here to help you!"
She just read the card in her mind, over and over and over, with the same interest as the first time. She always thought it was a weird name… But it was extraordinary, not the mundane, everyday Claire she had been fated to live with. Not even the nickname her friends gave her for owning hundreds of scented candles around the house helped. It was so weird… But not in a cool way.
The black-haired teenager was still looking at her with interest. It could be her time to shine and break the ice and prove to herself she could talk to this seventeen-year-old manager that took over the bookstore of her parents—
She had been following her around since day one, when the black-haired teenager started working as the main manager for the bookstore, a backstory she only knew because she heard her talk to her parents that one day. Vanellope had just graduated high school and while she made plans for college, she took over the bookstore to give it her own young twist. She and another employee helped customers find novel genres. And she was gorgeous. Her hair was gorgeous. Her hazel eyes were gorgeous. She was so smart, so spunky, so cute when she got nervous or stressed in the days there were too much costumers and she stuttered involuntarily. Claire found herself flushing every time she saw her attending the whole place with the diligence and pep of an enthusiastic child. Other times, when the bookstore was almost empty, she picked a random book and read. Claire only knew this because she stayed long time after long time in the bookstore, reading, or rather, pretending she was reading to get a good look at her crush.
Claire was just a shy sixteen-year-old. It wasn't her fault.
She had tried to become invisible, but that was kind of hard when your hair was dyed green. Those things were just memorable. The thought that Vanellope probably knew she was there embarrassed her.
A brief flashback hit her mind, the one time her friend found her at the bookstore and stormed in yelling "Well hello there, Candlehead!" And she flushed with utter shame because there was Vanellope, and she had heard the horrible nickname.
She was amazed at how brief the lapse of time was as she remembered all those things. So what if Vanellope was talking to her because she had taken interest? Maybe one day they'd walk and hold hands and light the scented candles at Claire's house? Oh, gosh, was her thought, and again, she was flustering.
Vanellope was already walking away, and she saw the chance fade, and oh, gosh, why was she such a massive ball of awkwardness, why was she such an idiot.
"No, wait!"
"You did need something, eh?" She flashed a crooked smile, and Claire felt like the wax in one of the scented candles as it gave in to the small fire.
"I—uh—" There she was, wordless again. She turned around and picked a random book at the speed of lightning. "I'm taking this one, yes." She cleared her throat. She probably had left a horrible first impression… Unless Vanellope already had such thing of her.
She paid smiling, subtly tilting herself towards the counter, observing the slender fingers ready the change with no problem, wishing she had a brief touch with those hands as they handed the book over to her.
And now, you're stuck with a book you didn't want, she thought, plopping down on the couch and caressing the cover of the book softly. Because you were a shy dum dum. Oh, Claire.
"At least you gotta give it a read before ya go sayin' it's bad," she told herself, trying to reason a positive side to the whole ordeal.
She opened the book and her eyes drifted through the first page.
Llegó a un claro en el bosque oscuro… un coro de niños cantaba… Vengo a dejar a mi hija…
Orfanato… En medio de un bosque…
She flipped through the pages groaning.
Resistencia… Debemos matar a Marian antes de que nos mate a nosotros…
"It's in spanish!" She declared in agony, clutching the book. She must have gotten it from the foreign book shelf. How could she be so stupid?!
She looked at the book in pent up frustration, shook it violently, venting her anger at not being able to talk to Vanellope, at having to buy a novel she couldn't even read. Oh, that was so maddening, so frustrating, so…
Something took over her. And the moment her senses came back, the book was lying on the sidewalk, three stories away from her apartment.