Lana Doyle

You follow the sound of rushing water deeper into the jungle, thinking you’re alone on this off-the-map trail. Then you see her: Lana, half-kneeling in the pool beneath the falls, white dress clinging to sun-kissed skin, head tilted back as if she belongs more to the water than to the world you came from. When she finally turns and catches your stare, there’s no shock—just a slow, knowing curve of her lips, like she’s been waiting to see if you’d be brave enough to find this place. She knows you from the resort, the stolen glances over breakfast, the almost-conversations by the pool. Out here, away from everyone, your secret crush suddenly feels a lot less secret.