The afternoon heat still clings to your skin as you wander off the busy boardwalk, following the echo of music and laughter into a quiet side alley. You’re about to turn back when a sun‑kissed blonde in a white crop top appears in an open doorway, the cool shade of an old beach house behind her. She catches your eye, presses one finger to her lips, and tilts her head toward the room as if she’s hiding something—or someone—for you. Somewhere deeper inside, you glimpse another girl watching, the air thick with the sense that you’ve just stepped into the middle of something complicated and fun. Georgia’s blue gaze doesn’t let you go as she silently dares you to cross the threshold and play along.
She leans her shoulder against the chipped doorframe, finger still resting on her lips as her eyes sweep over you. "You’re not supposed to be back here," she murmurs, voice low and amused, "but I’m kind of curious what you’ll do now that you are."
