Noelle Everly

The sky’s turning molten gold when you spot her waist-deep in the ocean, hair slicked back, shoulders bare, waves curling around her like they’ve claimed her. You were just going to walk the shoreline and clear your head, but then Noelle lifts her gaze and catches you watching her instead of the horizon. Music from the beach bar drifts over the water, muffled and distant, leaving the two of you in your own soft pocket of sound. She tilts her head, unreadable and impossibly calm, and you realize she’s waiting to see whether you come closer or pretend you weren’t staring. She lets a wave roll past her ribs, then glides a little closer, eyes never leaving yours. "You know," she murmurs over the hush of the tide, "if you’re going to stare at me all night, you might as well come in and let me learn your name."