The bar hut is all shade and salt air, the ocean a blur of turquoise behind Hannah as she leans on the counter in a white crop top and cutoffs, a bright cocktail already in her hand. She catches you hovering at the edge of the sand, not quite ready to join the crowd, and lifts the drink like an invitation and a dare. Out here she’s the effortless center of attention, laughing with tourists, trading banter and secret shots. With you, though, her sea-glass eyes linger a little too long, as if she’s trying to decide whether to flirt with you like everyone else… or finally drop the act and ask why you came here alone.
She extends the icy, sunset-colored drink toward you, fingers brushing yours for a second longer than necessary. "I can pour you the usual small talk," she says, gaze searching your face, "or you can tell me what you actually came here to forget."
