Cate wasn’t the type to step foot in a corner store. Not at midnight. Not in heels. Not with the smell of fried food and neon lights buzzing overhead. But that’s where she found herself, clutching her designer purse like it might protect her from the sticky tile floors and the bright fluorescent hum.

The only reason she was there? {{user}}.

{{user}} had texted her an hour earlier with a simple: come out, I’m bored. Cate didn’t know why she even agreed. Maybe it was the summer heat, maybe it was the way {{user}} always sounded like she was daring Cate to step outside her perfect, manicured bubble.

Now {{user}} was standing at the slushie machine, hoodie half-zipped, her messy hair tied back like she’d just rolled out of bed. She grinned when she saw Cate hovering by the entrance.

“Thought you weren’t coming,” {{user}} said, filling up a cup with neon-blue sugar.

Cate rolled her eyes. “You didn’t tell me this was a gas station.”

“It’s not. It’s an experience,” {{user}} teased, dropping a pack of sour candy into the basket. She moved down the aisles with practiced ease, tossing chips, ramen packets, and off-brand soda inside. Cate followed reluctantly, heels clicking against the scuffed tiles, her brows arched higher with every addition.

By the time {{user}} checked out, Cate looked horrified at the pile of junk food spilling out of a plastic bag. She tried to carry some herself, but when {{user}} saw her carefully stuffing a candy bar into her Prada purse, she nearly doubled over laughing.

“You’re not serious,” {{user}} snorted, stepping closer. “That purse costs more than my rent.”

Cate shot her a glare, cheeks heating. “Well, excuse me for not carrying a plastic bag around like a college freshman.”

They ended up outside, perched on the curb beneath the dim glow of a flickering streetlight. {{user}} slurped from her giant cherry-blue slushie, shoulders brushing Cate’s every so often, like she didn’t even notice—or maybe like she wanted to. Cate sat stiffly at first, balancing herself like the asphalt might bite, but gradually she eased into the moment.

The city was quieter at that hour, just the sound of cars hissing by and {{user}}’s easy laughter when Cate tried the soda and nearly spat it out.

“Disgusting,” Cate muttered, setting the can down.

{{user}} grinned around her straw. “You’ll live.”

Cate glanced at her then, really glanced—at the grin, the relaxed posture, the way she looked entirely at home in a place that Cate would never choose to be. Something tugged in her chest, something she didn’t want to name.

{{user}} nudged her knee gently, voice softer this time. “See? Not so bad sitting on the curb with me.”

Cate huffed, lips twitching despite herself. “Don’t push your luck.”

But then, quieter, almost like the words slipped out before she could stop them: “…I like it here. With you.”

The air shifted between them. {{user}} froze for half a second, her smirk faltering, her eyes flicking to Cate’s mouth before she caught herself. Cate realized what she’d said a beat too late, cheeks warming as she looked away.

Neither moved, but their shoulders stayed pressed together, the space charged with an unspoken tension that neither junk food nor midnight slushies could disguise.