After dinner, the group thinned like fog pulled by moonlight. Chloe watched Jacinta slip into the bar's glow, heels clicking like punctuation. Bernard slung a towel over his shoulder and hummed something half-familiar. Michelle hadn't spoken much—just traced the rim of her cup with slow, absent-minded circles, her thoughts folded away.
When Chloe reached for her hand, Michelle looked up, eyes slightly unfocused, then nodded.
They walked in silence, sandals whispering against sand, the surf murmuring its ancient language. The sky had softened to indigo. The beach was wide, mostly empty, except for the stray footprints left behind—fading reminders of other connections trying to form.
Michelle stopped when the tide reached her toes. Chloe stopped too, close enough to feel the echo of her breath.
"You always lead," Chloe said, voice hushed.
Michelle glanced sideways, a smile touching her lips like a secret.
"Only because I thought you wouldn't."
"I do. I just move quieter."
Michelle's lips parted, unsure. Curious. Chloe leaned in—not to claim, but to ask. Her thumb brushed Michelle's cheekbone gently, a request folded into touch.
She stepped behind her, arms wrapping around Michelle's waist. Her cheek nestled against Michelle's shoulder blade, her breath steady and warm. Michelle tilted slightly—leaning without quite realizing, her body seeking something that had already arrived.
"I want to feel you lean," Chloe whispered.
Michelle exhaled. She did.
Chloe turned her slowly, fingers catching at the hem of Michelle's hoodie. Inch by inch, she lifted it—not with urgency, but reverence. The ocean breeze kissed newly exposed skin, damp with mist and moonlight. Michelle shivered, not from cold.
Their lips met like a slow discovery. Chloe kissed as if she were translating something sacred from silence. Her tongue traced Michelle's lower lip, savoring the salt, the softness, the vulnerability offered up freely. Michelle's knees wavered.
They sank onto the sand in a nest of limbs and exhalations. Chloe hovered above her, fingers pressed lightly to Michelle's stomach, as if trying to memorize the rhythm of her heart.
"You always kiss me like it's a question," she murmured.
Michelle's eyes opened slowly, lashes wet with night.
"And you?"
Chloe smiled.
"Tonight it's an answer."
She kissed down Michelle's body, each press deliberate. Her fingers traced Michelle's ribs, the dip of her waist, the edges of her hips—like cartography made with devotion.
She slid beneath Michelle's swimsuit, hand easing between warmth and waiting. Michelle arched—not dramatically, just enough to say yes. Chloe leaned into her again, mouth finding the inside of Michelle's thigh, tongue tracing circles of promise, her breath making waves against skin already shimmering.
Michelle moaned softly, her hands clutching sand and Chloe's hair with equal desperation. Chloe didn't rush. She danced between giving and teasing, between contact and longing. Her fingers curled inside, stroking as Michelle gasped.
"I can't," Michelle whispered.
"You already are," Chloe replied.
And when Michelle finally cried out, Chloe muffled her with a kiss—so the ocean could carry the sound like a confession only stars would hear.
They lay there afterward, skin glistening, clothes tangled at their ankles. Michelle's chest heaved, her fingers trembling.
Chloe pulled the hoodie from the sand and wrapped it over them both. She curled beside Michelle—forehead against her neck, arm cradling her side.
The waves kept crashing. The stars kept blinking.
But neither girl moved.