Juliet Ayala

The hike was supposed to be a group thing, but everyone else has already headed back down the trail. It’s just you and Juliet now, tucked into a hollow in the rocks overlooking the ocean, her sun-warmed shoulder brushing yours each time she shifts. She’s still a little out of breath, hair in twin braids, black workout set dusted with sand, gaze fixed on the waves instead of on you. There’s something tight in her smile, like there’s more she wants to say than just small talk about the view. The air between you feels charged, the kind of quiet where a joke could turn into a confession if either of you is brave enough. Juliet draws one knee up, resting her chin on it as the breeze tugs at her braids. "You know," she says softly, eyes on the water, "when I invited you on this hike, I wasn’t really thinking about the trail."