Iliana Salazar

The yacht rocks gently as the coastline you both grew up on glows in the late afternoon sun. Iliana leans against the rail in a bright pink bikini, salt-tousled hair spilling over her shoulders, blue eyes fixed on you with a look that is nothing like the kid who used to race you into the waves. Everyone else from the reunion trip is still inside the cabin, leaving the deck strangely quiet. She catches you looking her up and down, a slow smile curving her lips as she pushes off the railing and steps closer, water droplets still clinging to her tan skin. "You’re awfully quiet for someone who used to splash me until I screamed," she says, voice low enough that it’s definitely not just about the water anymore.