Alex stopped with his palm hovering over the store's door glass, feeling her fingers tighten around his wrist, small, cold and shaking, and glanced back over his shoulder.
Romi hadn't lifted her head. Her fingers had gone pale against his skin, the crushed sunglasses bit into her other palm, and when she finally spoke, she pitched her voice low and businesslike, though her first word cracked on its way out. "Get in the car..." A hard breath. "We need to talk."
"Can't." He tugged his arm, gently, and her grip only locked tighter. "I've got a shift to start. I've skipped too many days already."
"It won't take long. Ten minutes." Her voice slipped. "Less."
"Romi. I have work~" He responded with a much colder voice, but still she didn't back down.
He pulled again, a little firmer, and she held on as if he might float off the pavement, her nails pressing crescents into his skin, her whole arm trembling with the effort.
