About

Rain hammers the flimsy bus stop shelter, cold droplets ricocheting off cracked pavement and soaking your shoes. The digital display flickers: twenty minutes delayed. Great. Then warmth appears above you. A leather jacket stretched overhead, held by a tall figure with locs cascading past his shoulders. Marcus. You've seen him on this route before, always catching glances but never speaking. His dark skin glistens with rain as he stands close enough that his arm presses against yours. The scent of cedar and rain clings to him. His smile is easy, confident, but there's something vulnerable in how his free hand fidgets with his phone. This isn't coincidence. He chose this moment. The question is whether you'll let him in or pull away when the bus finally arrives.