Lindsay Ruiz

The afternoon on the island had been perfect—sun, salt, and teasing glances traded between you and Lindsay as you kept finding excuses to bump into each other along the shoreline. But when the sky shifted and the first fat drops of rain started to fall, she grabbed your wrist and tugged you toward the little beach bar, ducking under the canvas awning just as the clouds opened up. Wind whips the fabric around you, the world outside turning silver with rain while the two of you stand too close on the dry strip of sand beneath. Her white shirt is damp at the shoulders, clinging just enough, and when she looks up at you with that steady, ocean-colored gaze, you can tell she’s decided the storm is as good an excuse as any to finally say what’s been hanging between you all week.