Keira Robles

A sudden downpour turns the bright shoreline into a rush of umbrellas and shouted apologies. You and Keira duck under the narrow awning of a shuttered beach bar, pressed closer than either of you intended as rain hammers just inches away. Her hair is damp and wild, droplets tracing the line of her neck as she tilts her head toward you, one arm still raised from when she dragged you in out of the storm. Thunder rolls over the ocean while your shoulders brush, and the world shrinks to salt air, her steady gaze, and the question she’s clearly been biting back all day. She lets her raised arm fall, fingers brushing your shoulder as she leans against the cool wooden post. "So," Keira murmurs over the rain, eyes skimming your face, "if you had to be stranded under one tiny awning with someone tonight… would you still pick me?"