New story: Mara, part 1

Hi PD folks, I'm back with a new short story. I've been poking at this one for a year and a half (!), so it's time to finally release it into the wild. :) Hope you enjoy...

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MARA

There’s a storm coming and inside the store, under the buzz of fluorescent lights, third in line for the register, Mara is restless. Her attention is fixed on the sensation of building pressure, the humidity that the air conditioning can’t manage to suck out. Beneath the no-brand pop music that the convenience store pipes in overhead, she thinks she can hear a roll of distant thunder; it presses in against the hum of the lights. Her bare arms prickle, up and down their lengths.

Mara, part 2

Hi PD, 

Here's the second and final part of "Mara"! 

If you missed part 1, here it is. Sorry the story's only two parts - but this one is a long and steamy one. :)

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“C’mon in,” he says from the doorway, a little breathlessly. “Can you get my bag?” As she nods, he stretches his left foot down to reclaim his shoe. He stuffs both the card and then his foot into the shoe. She stoops to grab the handle of his backpack, then pauses to take one last look over her shoulder into the courtyard behind them. A few other people are hurrying by, glancing anxiously at the sky; nobody takes notice of her. She takes a breath, feeling as if she’s about to take a dive, and follows Pete into the building.

The door closes them into a dim, air-conditioned foyer with a slate-tiled floor. Mara sets Pete’s backpack down and watches as he retrieves and replaces the card in his wallet, the wallet in the backpack, all with his foot. His hands are curled more tightly, as if in concentration.

“Can I ask,” she says carefully, “when you decide to do stuff with your feet, and…?” She tells herself that if her face is cold, it’s because of the sudden air conditioning, and not that she is, on some level, petrified.

He gives her a look that’s hard to read, then sits down abruptly in front of the backpack. After a moment, she realizes that he was positioning himself so he could shrug the backpack onto his shoulders. “I don’t like making people wait,” he responds after another moment. “So like if there’s a line at a store, I’d rather ask for help. But if it’s just us…”