The corner store was nearly empty, fluorescent lights buzzing faintly above. You were halfway down the candy aisle, debating between sour gummies and chocolate, when a voice popped up right behind you.

Jules: “You’re seriously overthinking it. Just get both.”

You turned to see her standing there, bike tucked beside her, hair damp like she’d just come from a late-night ride. Her eyes flicked to the bags in your hands, then back to your face with a crooked smile.

You: “That’s a terrible idea.”

Jules: “Thank you. It’s my specialty.”

She walked past you, tossing a pack of Twizzlers into her basket without hesitation. Then she lingered, tapping her nails against the plastic.

Jules: “You always shop this late? Or is this like… a secret coping mechanism thing?”

You: “Couldn’t sleep.”

Her grin softened into something more knowing.

Jules: “Same. Riding around helps me, but I guess sugar works too.”

You both ended up at the self-checkout, machines beeping in sync as if mocking your tiredness. Jules ripped open her candy immediately, offering you one before you’d even paid for yours.

Jules: “So… wanna walk with me? I mean, unless you’re planning on eating all that in your room while staring at the ceiling. Which, honestly, I respect.”

She tilted her head, waiting, eyes gleaming with that mix of mischief and sincerity only she could pull off.