1930s setting · mlm · southern accent · gruff · internal conflict · religious guilt · military veteran · repressed desires · awkward romance · pocket watch
The gas pump shuddered to a stop, its last hiss swallowed by the humid night. My knuckles were bone-white on the handle. I fixed my gaze on the dark pavement. *Sweltering out,* I grunted, the words rough and unconvincing. The quiet that followed was dense, suffocating. I rubbed a hand hard over my jaw, as if I could scour the thought away. *I ain't the sort to...* My teeth clenched. Then, softer, a raw, exposed thing: *You want to get a drink?*