Too Hot to Dry

Summer and Maya drag the last load to the laundromat. Maya fumes. Nothing Summer says cuts through it. When Summer brings water, the cup slips. Cold liquid soaks Maya's thin shirt and shorts, and the scowl deepens. They already have time left on the washer. Summer shrugs, tells Maya to strip. Maya peels off the clinging clothes and wraps herself in a rough white towel. The anger begins to slip. Summer feels the shift, smiles, leans in. The towel parts. Fingers slide between Maya's thighs, testing heat and slickness, turning irritation into a gasp that fills the quiet laundromat.