AN: This is a drabble series for Tyzula Week. Unlike my main drabble series, I won't be containing more than one drabble in each chapter (I'm updating every single day, anyways). It's a Modern AU taking place in a mall because I've always wanted to write that. And is in Ty Lee's POV without any switches.

Mallrats

I. Luck

Azula Shohona ain't your average girl next door.

Mostly because of the fact that next door is an understatement; she lives in some isolated Colonial Manor or whatever outside of the main city or even the town we grew up in since her family has more money than God and their ancestors have probably been burned as witches. It is close to my house though so it counts. Plus, if I had to make a checklist, Azula would completely fit that glorious 80's movie image that nobody has gotten over yet.

I've seen glimpses of her since I was a kid and Azula Shohona stole my new bike for no reason other than the cheap thrill or whatever, because she didn't take it very far and didn't seem to really care about it herself. Justly, I guess, 'cause I can't picture Azula Shohona wanting a bright pink Barbie bike with pinker confetti tassels on it. Not when her dad has bought her five cars when she doesn't even have a permit yet.

Azula ain't that ordinary cute girl; she's real odd and I don't know that 'cause of watching her for hours, no that would be creepy.

Okay, okay, this is totally all because I'm about to tell the story of how I met her and we fell in love and it was perfectly like The Notebook except not. Today on a slow Sunday at my really fun job (and this morning I brought donuts and that made it fun for everybody), is the first day that Azula Shohona acknowledges my existence.

I've never even talked to her until today. And... maybe I really wanted to talk to her before today. It's a lucky encounter in a Sephora. I.E.: the Sephora I have a summer job at to pay for stupid gymnastics camp that really isn't so stupid but I have bigger dreams than that. Like a princess at Disneyworld, a professional cheerleader or a showgirl.

Oh! Back to the point. The first words she says to me are insanely beautiful. Like, these are going to be on our wedding invites because they are like a poem or something. Here, okay, here's what she says:

"Do you have that in a less hideous color?"

She talks like a really sultry angel. Or maybe a cute... witch or something. I've been examining the cruddy costume shop set up across the way but it doesn't have that many costumes and the women's ones seem to only know of one adjective.

"Less hideous than uh...?" I blow it within seconds. "Well, I mean, I think you could probably pull off anything because you are really pretty. Did you know that?"

"Yes. I know I'm very pretty," Azula replies without batting an eyelash. "But this eye shadow is not."

"Mmm. Yeah, I agree," I say honestly. Neutral tones are gross, even with the sparkles. "Okay, okay, your aura is screaming Matchbox palette cerulean. It glitters."

Azula looks at me and I seem to have done pretty well, because she shrugs.

"What is an aura?" Azula asks as I realize that we totally are more than out of that palette; it's totally discontinued as of two days ago and now I'm going to kill my future marriage to her.

"It's the... vibe of a person. I don't know, my mama is a hippie." Ty Lee shrugs and smiles, wishing she had not said anything about Azula's aura and how beautiful the colors really are. Or how the sun seems to shine only for her pretty often.

I look under the desk, keeping composed and bouncing around as much shallow chatter as I can get out of my strawberry flavored lips. There it is; there's one left and I can almost scream from excitement as I pull it up and gracefully avoid hitting my head on the counter. I am seriously the luckiest girl ever and it is amazing.

"You're a dancer, aren't you?" Azula asks and I haven't danced in forever since I wound up on some stupid track to Olympic gymnastics when I really want to be a showgirl.

"Yeah," I chirp as I show her the colors.

She seems to approve of the eye shadow I picked out for her. Well, duh, I found the right color. I'm amazing at my job. As I move to ring it up, which is the part I'm less amazing at, she stares for a few seconds.

"Didn't we used to do ballet together?" asks the girl of my dreams and I grin.

"Yes," I say casually, but inside I am screaming.

She remembers that!

"Right."

And then she buys the make-up with the dark blue debit card that she's messing with in her really smooth hands (note to self: ask what kind of lotion she uses... or maybe not, that might come off as too much of an advance). And after that she leaves.

It seems pretty dumb, but it is the beginning of a love story way better than anything ever recorded in history.