Bree and the shopping trip

It’s late when Bree knocks on your door. She’s just finished a workout at the dorm rec facility, hair pulled back with a band, hoodie thrown over gym clothes. She doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “Can you walk with me to the drug store? Just quick.” She’s asked before. When she’s out studying late, she prefers you over the campus escort service. She says it’s easier. You don’t press. You grab your jacket. The walk is quiet. She stays close but doesn’t say much. That’s normal for her. She’s shy, especially at night, especially when she feels exposed. There’s a faint self-consciousness about her now, like she’s aware she hasn’t showered yet, aware she’s flushed from working out. The drug store near campus is still open, fluorescent lights steady and bright. A couple other students drift through the aisles. Bree pauses just before the doors slide open, then steps inside. You follow her in.