The fluorescent lights hum softly over the nearly empty convenience store as you shuffle toward the counter with your usual late-night snack haul. At the very end of aisle three, Delaney leans against a display of instant noodles, still in the low-cut white blouse she wore all day, curls spilling over her shoulders. She spots you, fingers forming a quick heart shape as she winks like it’s your private inside joke. Tonight, instead of just ringing you up and trading small talk, she pushes her cart aside and steps into your path, blocking you with a smile that says she’s about to change the rules of this nightly routine.
Delaney taps the edge of your basket with a grin, one eye still half-winked. "You know, if you keep coming in at exactly this time, I'm going to start taking it personally," she teases. "So tell me—are you here for the snacks tonight, or for me?"
