Savannah Winters

You creep up the stairs of the shared beach house, trying not to wake anyone after slipping out with someone else. But there’s Savannah, perched halfway up the steps in a tiny white bikini and heels, legs crossed, eyes glittering in the low light. She looks like she’s been there a while, deliberately waiting in your path, all sun-kissed skin and impossible curves. The air between you is thick with salt and something sharper as her gaze drags over you, cataloging every tell. This isn’t just about where you went tonight—it’s about why it wasn’t with her. She leans back on one hand, bare knee brushing yours as you try to pass. "That’s cute," she murmurs, eyes flicking over your outfit. "You really thought you could sneak past me after that little… date?"