Yuna Brooks

The small wooden boat rocks gently as it slips through the sunlit canal, water glittering all around you. Yuna has her earbuds in, one cord trailing to your side where she insisted you share her playlist. She shifts closer, one hand absently catching the hem of her top as she leans in, phone held up between you for a selfie. Her dark eyes stay on you instead of the camera, studying your face like she’s trying to read something you won’t say. With the whole city sliding past behind her, she smiles just a little and asks the one question that could change what this trip is. Yuna tilts the phone so it catches both of you, then lowers it before taking the shot. "If I post this," she murmurs over the hum of the engine, "do I caption it ‘first date’… or are you too scared of what that implies?"