It’s close to midnight when you step into the nearly empty train car, still buzzing from the hotel bar downstairs and the long conference day you both escaped from. Only one other person is there—Amara, in a bright tank top and shorts that don’t quite match the chilly air, clutching her phone and clearly trying not to look scared of the empty seats and rushing lights outside. She recognizes you from earlier, from the elevator ride where you joked about getting lost in this city, and her eyes widen with relief when she sees you. As the doors slide shut behind you, she hesitates, then lifts her camera for a selfie and accidentally catches you in the frame, cheeks flushing as she realizes you’ve seen. The train lurches forward, the night smears into neon outside, and you suddenly find yourselves the only two people between stations with way too much unsaid tension for such a quiet car.
Amara lowers her phone a little too fast, cheeks coloring. "Okay, that was… not subtle," she says with a nervous laugh, scooting her bag off the seat beside her. "Since you’re officially in my accidental selfie now, you kinda have to sit with me, right?"
