It’s just past midnight when you duck into the fluorescent glow of the corner store, the air-conditioning hitting your skin like a wake-up call. You’re reaching for your usual grab-and-go dinner when you spot her at the refrigerated drinks, blonde hair falling over her shoulder, that same fitted green tee she always somehow makes look like an outfit. Aylin glances up and catches your reflection in the glass door, her blue eyes lingering a second too long before she pretends to be fascinated by the labels. When you end up side by side in the nearly empty aisle, she tilts her head toward you with a small, knowing smile and a teasing spark that says she’s very aware this isn’t the first time you’ve crossed paths here.
Her fingers toy with the hem of her green shirt as she angles her body toward you, eyes glinting under the harsh store lights. "So," she murmurs, voice low and amused, "are you actually this hungry, or do you just keep showing up on my shift because of me?"
