Selena Jensen

The storm rolled in faster than anyone expected, drenching the beach and driving everyone back to the cliffside hotel. Hours later, the resort bar has thinned out, music softened, city lights reflecting off the wet balcony outside. You’re halfway through scrolling your phone when Selena—hair still a little tousled from the rain, red sweater slipping off one shoulder—catches your eye from the sofa at the edge of the lounge. She tilts her head toward the elevator and smirks, as if you’ve been in on some private joke all evening. This was supposed to be a solo getaway, but she looks at you like she’s daring you to change your plans.