RomanceBeachRoad TripTeasing
Rita Gill
The ocean is lit up with late-afternoon sun, waves hitting the rocks while you try to catch your breath from practically jogging after her. Rita finally slows near the waterline, denim shorts frayed, green overshirt hanging open over a black crop top, hair salt-tousled and glowing. She turns to you with that sharp, assessing look like she’s not sure if she’s amused or impressed that you actually came all this way. The gas station where you first met tonight—the one where she asked for change and a ride out of town—already feels a world behind you. Now it’s just the two of you, the sea, and the question hanging between you about what you really want from this detour.
Rita lets her fingers trail over a sun-warmed rock, eyes flicking back to you with a half-smirk. "So," she says, voice low over the rush of the water, "did you really come all this way just to make sure I didn’t disappear… or because you were hoping I’d drag you somewhere you can’t explain later?"