He wondered if she'd come again today.

Ben Solo glanced out across the toy store, nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet, anxious for signs of a customer, or anyone, really. It was one o'clock on a Saturday afternoon, three days before Christmas, and this was the quietest the store had been his whole winter break.

Through the window, he could see people trail by, happily minding their own business as they tromped through the falling snow, arms laden with prettily wrapped parcels and bags. Sometimes, he'd see children pressing their faces against the glass, the cold making their noses run against the window before they were chided and called away. He used to laugh at the silly faces he'd see when that happened, until he eventually realized that he was responsible for washing the windows later.

This was his first Christmas season running the family store alone, and it was an honor that he had yet to fully stomach. This was the busiest time of year for them, and for his father to pass the torch to him, no matter how reluctantly, was enough of a gift for the college senior. For the past week, he had woken up at dawn, pulling on the long sleeved shirt every employee, family or not, had to wear before his drive to the shop. The business stood proud along the little town's main street, the little town of Alderaan so different from Naboo University, large liberal arts college he attended. He had played—ahem, tested—all the toys before he placed them on the shelves with care, arranging the dolls and building blocks just so, looking perfect and worthy of Macy's department store.

He was proud of the place, seeing memories in every aisle, letting himself reminisce, knowing that he would be unbothered for at least a moment. One year, his father had built him a fort from cardboard bricks, a memory that he was bent on recreating after closing up some night, remembering the canopy of fairy lights hung above his head when he looked up in his "castle." The tinkling of the front door's bell snapped him out of his reverie, smile shrinking for a moment, insincere "customer service" simper now widening into a grin as he saw who ducked in.

"My favorite customer!" His bellow made the girl jump, her cold cheeks remaining scarlet from blushing, no matter how far she ducked her face down into her navy scarf to hide from Ben and his dimpled grin. Rey chuckled self-consciously as she approached the counter, jutting an arm out to him, a travel mug in her gloved hand, grinning as he took it, sighing appreciatively. "Compliments of Poe. He said that it's your mom's new favorite?" She wrinkled her nose with her explanation, shrugging at him, her cheeks coloring again at his murmured thanks.

If you asked him, Ben wouldn't immediately admit his crush on the barista from the café across the street. He would possibly try to distract you with what he knew about her, such as how she always smelled like dark roasted coffee and vanilla, that her favorite holiday was Christmas, with New Year's Eve being a close second. He would tell you about how she was trying to make a new holiday drink with her manager Poe, that she always brought him a cup of their newest concoction whenever she stopped by during her breaks.

However, if you pestered him enough, he would fess up—that this girl standing before him, shrugging off her heavy winter coat and shaking the snow out of her chestnut hair, had caught his eye and he didn't know what to do about it, hadn't known what to do about it since coming home two weeks ago. Common sense told him to take a chance, to ask her out, but that wasn't realistic. Not for him.

Despite his cheerful demeanor and his willingness to wear a dorky Christmas sweater, he knew that he wasn't quite her type. Rey lived in soft sweaters, in girly skirts and preppy blazers, and always had a smile to offer. It was unsurprising that she was studying to be a teacher at the local community college, that she wanted to teach kindergarten—though she had made it clear that she'd be completely happy if she ever owned the café, her second home. She probably had a cute boyfriend stashed away somewhere, though he'd never know it—she was almost always working, be it at the café or as a kindergarten teacher's aide every Friday.

He, on the other hand, was covered in tattoos and was known around his college campus as a bad boy, even though the most he was guilty for was having a resting bitch face, preferring to spend his time constructing elaborate sculptures and reading. He was rougher around the edges, his bearded face usually grumpy and therefore intimidating. (Rey hadn't thought so, striking up a conversation shortly after they met, shrugging at his confusion, as if she didn't understand why no one wanted to chat with him.)

The most that they had going for them was that they both liked coffee and the holidays in their small hometown. Ben watched the girl drift away towards the aisles, wistfully staring after her, though he knew better. He considered himself lucky that his family owned the toy store, that he was privileged enough to see her almost every day. It was apparently a tradition of hers to wander through and examine each toy, his mother scolding him for not noticing her the previous year, something that he kicked himself over already, no scolding required.

Rey never bought anything, even though her fingers lingered thoughtfully on almost every toy she came across. He didn't mind though—even if he didn't have a crush on her, he didn't have the heart to shoo her away. There was something she hadn't told him yet, some reason behind her longing glances at the dolls, on the children chemistry set. It wasn't something he'd ask her about, not now. There was no good way to ask about it, and so he let it be, content with his delicious coffee (a peppermint mocha, a fact he filed away for when he needed to be on his mother's good side) and his beautiful view.

Today, she was looking at the trucks, picking one up and smiling, a finger experimentally spinning a wheel. It was a gentle touch, and it made Ben's heart ache for some reason, another thought to tuck away and ask someone about later. In the meantime, he was fine with staying safe in his space behind the counter, ever on the lookout for another customer.

On a typical day, Rey would peruse the store, making her way down each aisle meticulously before turning and heading back to work, throwing a cheerful goodbye over her shoulder before the wind swept her away. He'd maybe see her pass by later, when he was closing up, the girl always squashed between Finn and Poe, the two lovebirds who managed Jakku Java, and she'd wave—and he'd always forget how to hold a broom in his overzealous need to wave back.

Today though, she slipped up to the counter, chewing on her bottom lip, as if nervous about something. "What's up, Rey?" The clerk leaned across the counter, propping his elbows against the smooth wood, looking up at her now.

"I…I, um, just wanted to ask—and it's completely okay if you say no, I totally get it…I just wanted to ask if you wanted to go to an ugly sweater party with me?" She was flustered—it was obvious by how she forced her gaze at her feet, as if she wouldn't be able to stand his face, should he start laughing at her. Instead he stuttered back:

"When is it?" The relief that crossed her face made his stomach drop, and her smile had his heart in his throat. She shyly offered up a formal invitation, in reply, seeming to hold her breath as his eyes flicked over the writing, details neat and alternating in red and green ink.

"Oh, so Poe put you up to this!" She laughed at his teasing remark, at his accusing finger on the invitation's RVSP number. Rey could only shrug bashfully. "It's not that—he just got sick of me talking about you all the time, so he decided he'd play matchmaker…or something." She threw her hands up, exasperated, but still smiling as he chuckled at her.

"Christmas Eve, huh?" Her head bobbed frantically, another wave of relief rushing through her at his grin. "If you don't mind coming to dinner at my place first, then I definitely don't see why not." He chuckled at her confused face, brows furrowing and then smoothing with his explanation: "Family tradition. Mom would kill me if I ever tried to skip Christmas Eve with the family."

"I can believe that." Her smile was sunny, her cheeks warm for the fifth time since walking into the store. Ben had that effect on her, but she didn't mind. "I should probably be getting back…Poe will never let me live down coming back late, even if I was asking you out."

She pretended that she didn't hear his triumphant whoop as the door shut behind her, pretended that she was hoping over a drift of snow and not skipping, giddy from the favorable exchange. Rey knew that her coworkers would tease her, but she didn't mind all that much.

Ben watched her go, lingering by the window and waving with a grin when she turned on the café's door and looked back at him one last time. He didn't wonder about her odd little tradition for the rest of the day, shunting the curiosity aside as he bided his time until he could close up shop, smile playing on his lips well into the next day.