we show off our different scarlet letters
The sharp, emphatic fuck no lands like the final wave crashing over the last of her doubt. Flora winces; not because of the conviction in it, but because it only makes her feel more ridiculous for how far she’d spiralled. She knows it was a stupid misunderstanding, but gods, the dominos had been set up so neatly. One wrong push and the whole thing had come toppling down in her head.
When his fingers tug her back, she goes willingly, spinning in the water with a splash of phosphorescent light, the surface blooming beneath her in brilliant blue. It spills up their bodies like stage lighting, catching on his chest and collarbones, glimmering between them as the sea settles. Her feet find the sand, lifting her until the water barely hides her breasts. Her hair clings in curling waves down her back, and when she looks up at him, it’s with a gaze made bluer and brighter by the mirrored sea.
She searches him openly, eyes scanning the angles of his face, reading his sincerity like a horizon line, trying to tell if he’s just saying what she wants to hear. But the ring on her finger stays cool and quiet, no prickle of heat to warn her away.
Her lips part, a small huff of laughter escaping on an exhale as she lets her head tilt for a second, equal parts embarrassed and endeared. "It’s okay, you know. If you ever do want someone else, like, to spice things up or whatever." She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, the water lapping softly against her skin. "I hadn’t even thought about the race," she admits, glancing down. "Just...you’d joked about someone holding a light while, and then suddenly Melita was there and you said you wanted her here, and then she was laying down and you were reaching out for her, and..." Her brows inch upward with renewed confusion, eyes flicking back up to his.
And then she blinks, a sudden ripple of worry spreading across her expression. "Wait—do you think she’s okay?" Flora's voice is softer now, concern replacing the last of her tension as she curls her hand a little tighter around his. "Should we channel her again to check on her? Once we’re on shore?"
When his fingers tug her back, she goes willingly, spinning in the water with a splash of phosphorescent light, the surface blooming beneath her in brilliant blue. It spills up their bodies like stage lighting, catching on his chest and collarbones, glimmering between them as the sea settles. Her feet find the sand, lifting her until the water barely hides her breasts. Her hair clings in curling waves down her back, and when she looks up at him, it’s with a gaze made bluer and brighter by the mirrored sea.
She searches him openly, eyes scanning the angles of his face, reading his sincerity like a horizon line, trying to tell if he’s just saying what she wants to hear. But the ring on her finger stays cool and quiet, no prickle of heat to warn her away.
Her lips part, a small huff of laughter escaping on an exhale as she lets her head tilt for a second, equal parts embarrassed and endeared. "It’s okay, you know. If you ever do want someone else, like, to spice things up or whatever." She lifts her shoulders in a shrug, the water lapping softly against her skin. "I hadn’t even thought about the race," she admits, glancing down. "Just...you’d joked about someone holding a light while, and then suddenly Melita was there and you said you wanted her here, and then she was laying down and you were reaching out for her, and..." Her brows inch upward with renewed confusion, eyes flicking back up to his.
And then she blinks, a sudden ripple of worry spreading across her expression. "Wait—do you think she’s okay?" Flora's voice is softer now, concern replacing the last of her tension as she curls her hand a little tighter around his. "Should we channel her again to check on her? Once we’re on shore?"
