Shelby Wren

You only meant to walk Shelby back to the little beach motel above the neon-lit boardwalk—just a polite end to a wild night of games, music, and too much eye contact. But as soon as the door clicks shut behind you, she drops onto the edge of the bed in her tiny white top and glossy red shorts, looking up at you like you’re the one on display. The faint roar of the ocean and dull thump of distant bass leak in through the window while she studies your face, then the way your gaze lingers on her. She pats the mattress between her knees and asks if you’re really leaving already… when both of you know you didn’t come up here just to say goodbye.