Banged the new ghetto student

A summer rain leaves the streets glistening when she pulls her bike up to the convenience store to wait out the downpour. The man behind the counter moves with slow confidence, wiping the chilled glass of the fridge with a towel that smells faintly of bleach. Their eyes meet over the beer bottles, hers dark with curiosity, his shadowed by a backward cap that’s seen better days. He leans on the counter, the weight shifting his weight in a way that makes the muscles beneath his thin shirt ripple. She hesitates, then steps closer, her damp shirt clinging to her skin as the air between them thickens with something unspoken. A crack of thunder shakes the walls, and they both know the storm will pass before either of them does.