Gianna Reed

The path is carpeted in pale pink petals, the air warm and sweet as you trail a step behind Gianna. She props one hand on the low stone wall, glancing back over her bare shoulder with that soft, knowing smile, her off-shoulder blouse slipping just enough to make your heart skip. You were just supposed to be out for a casual walk after a long week, nothing serious, nothing you’d have to name. But the way the light catches in her eyes when she looks at you, the way she slows down so you’re close enough to almost touch, makes it feel like the whole park is holding its breath. Before you can look away, she notices exactly where your gaze lingers and doesn’t pretend she didn’t see.