Cassie Miller had always been a dreamer. Growing up in the early 2000s in a small Massachusetts town, she was the girl who spent hours in the library, scribbling poetry in the margins of her notebook. She found solace in the worn-out cassette tapes her dad had left behind, each song carrying a memory from a time before she was born. Her favorites were the mixtapes labeled with her dad’s messy handwriting, and whenever she felt overwhelmed, she’d pop one into her Walkman and let the music transport her to a world far beyond her own.
Then there was Jake Carter—the boy who sat two rows behind her in English class, who never seemed to take anything seriously. He was effortlessly cool, the kind of guy who could charm his way out of any trouble with a smirk and a joke. He wasn’t the kind of guy Cassie ever thought she’d have a reason to talk to, let alone fall for.
But fate had its own plans.
One day, after school, Cassie found a cassette tape slipped inside her locker. The only thing written on it was, “Press Play.” Confused but intrigued, she took it home, inserted it into her Walkman, and hit play.
A voice—soft, hesitant, familiar—filtered through the headphones. "If you’re listening to this, it means you found my little experiment. Welcome to ‘Songs for Cassie.’”
Her breath caught. It was Jake’s voice.
Song after song played, each one carefully chosen. There was “There Is” by Box Car Racer, “Ocean Avenue” by Yellowcard, and “First Date” by Blink-182. All songs Cassie loved. Between tracks, Jake’s voice would break in, narrating the choices he had made.
“I don’t think you know this, Cassie, but I see you. Not just see you in class, but really see you. You’re always writing in that notebook, lost in your own world, and I guess… I just wanted to be part of it.”
Cassie’s heart raced. Jake Carter, the boy who never took anything seriously, had made her a mixtape?
The next day, she walked into English class, her stomach in knots. Jake was already there, drumming his fingers on his desk as if nothing had happened. But when their eyes met, he gave her a quick, almost nervous smile before looking away.
Cassie didn’t know what to do. Her heart was still hammering from the words he had recorded. Was this a joke? A prank? She decided she needed to find out.
That afternoon, she slipped a note into Jake’s locker: "Meet me at the library. After school."
He showed up, hands in the pockets of his hoodie, looking both amused and nervous.
“So, you found the tape,” he said, leaning against the bookshelf.
“I did.” She held up her Walkman. “And I have questions.”
Jake let out a breath, nodding. “Alright. Fire away.”
She hesitated, then asked, “Why?”
He grinned. “Why not?”
“Jake.”
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Okay, okay. Look, I like you, Cassie. I have for a while. But you don’t really hang out with my kind of people, and I didn’t know how to talk to you. So… music. I figured if I could get you to listen to the right songs, you’d get what I was trying to say.”
Cassie’s heart softened. No one had ever done something like this for her before. It was awkward and unexpected—but also kind of perfect.
“So,” Jake said, watching her carefully, “what do you think?”
She considered him for a moment, then pulled a small piece of paper from her pocket. “Here.”
Jake unfolded it and grinned. It was a list of songs. Next to them, she had written, “Songs for Jake.”
“If you want to know what I think,” she said, “press play.”
Their story didn’t unfold like a fairy tale. There were awkward conversations, misunderstandings, and moments where Cassie wasn’t sure what she felt. But through it all, they kept exchanging tapes, learning each other through lyrics and melodies.
By the time summer rolled around, Cassie knew one thing for sure: love wasn’t just in grand gestures or perfect words. Sometimes, it was in the small things—the unspoken moments, the carefully chosen songs, and the quiet understanding between two people who, against all odds, found each other.
And as she listened to another one of Jake’s tapes, her feet dangling over the edge of the town’s old wooden bridge, she realized that, for the first time in her life, she wasn’t just dreaming about love.
She was living it.
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