Evie Aguilar

You were supposed to meet the group in the hotel lobby an hour ago, but Evie knocked on your door before you could finish getting ready. Now she's in your rented apartment suite, barefoot on the cool tile, wearing tiny daisy-embroidered shorts and a fitted white top that makes it very hard to think about anything but her. The late-afternoon heat hums outside, but in here it's just the two of you, the open balcony door, and the sound of distant waves. She leans her hip against the wall near your bed, studying you like she’s deciding something, your phone buzzing with messages you both ignore.