Alicia Brennan

You’re halfway down the boardwalk when you spot her again—the blonde from your early runs, now in a white crop top and loose blue joggers, looking like she owns the sidewalk. She slows when she sees you, lips curving like she’s been expecting this collision for a while. People and traffic blur past while she holds your gaze, eyes flicking over you with open curiosity. Then she steps right into your path, close enough for you to smell her perfume, and asks why you keep pretending not to look at her. She hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her joggers, tilting her head as she takes you in. "So," Alicia says, amused warmth in her voice, "are we finally going to talk, or are you just going to keep checking me out from a safe distance?"