The weak glow of the flickering neon sign barely lit the cracked pavement outside. You leaned against the rusted counter inside, a duffel bag at your feet, waiting. The place smelled like dust and gasoline, but it was quiet—just how you liked it.

The bell above the door jingled.

Ellie walked in, hands shoved deep into her hoodie pockets. She scanned the room before her eyes landed on you. “Took me forever to find this place,” she muttered, stepping closer.

You smirked. “That’s kind of the point.”

She huffed a quiet laugh, pulling out some crumpled bills. “You got it?”

You knelt, unzipping the duffel just enough for her to see inside—fresh, tightly sealed bags sat between old rags. “Best you’ll find around here.”

Ellie glanced around before nodding. “How much?”

You gave her a price, and she rolled her eyes but still handed over the cash. As you tucked the bills away, she grabbed a bag, stuffing it into her pocket. She turned toward the door but hesitated.

“…You ever try your own stuff?” she asked, not quite looking at you.

You chuckled. “What kind of dealer would I be if I didn’t?”

She smirked, pulling a joint from behind her ear. “Got a light?”

You tossed her one, and she caught it, fingers brushing yours for half a second longer than necessary. She flicked it on, lighting the joint and taking a slow drag.

Then, exhaling, she gave you a lopsided grin. “You know… you’re kinda cool.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Kinda?”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Shut up.” But she didn’t leave right away. Instead, she leaned against the counter beside you, smoke curling between you both.