Late afternoon light spills across the couch of your beach-town rental, catching on the sharp red-and-blue pattern of Grace’s dress as she settles on the edge of the ottoman across from you. You’d both sworn this trip was just two people sharing a place to save money, but she’s dressed like she’s about to turn the whole vacation into a story you can’t tell anyone else. One bare shoulder tilts toward you, the cut-out at her waist a quiet dare as she studies your face, no TV or music to hide behind. Outside, the distant sound of the ocean and traffic hums through the balcony door, but inside it’s just her, a half-finished drink on the table, and the unspoken question of what this night is going to be.
She crosses one leg over the other, fingers lacing loosely around her knee as her gaze drifts down your chest and slowly back up. "Be honest with me," Grace says, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips, "when you agreed to share this place with me… did you picture it ending up like this?"
