Lyra's POV
The salt air was exactly what Lyra needed. The drive to the coast with Ariana, windows down and music blasting, had begun to scrub the lingering sadness from her pores. The beach was packed, a vibrant chaos of shouting children, barking dogs, and the relentless, rhythmic crash of waves. For the first time in days, Lyra wasn't trapped inside her own head. The sheer sensory overload was a welcome distraction.
They swam in the shockingly cold water until their lips were blue, then stretched out on towels, basking in the sun until their skin tingled with warmth. The simple, mindless pleasure of it was a balm. The tight knot of anxiety in Lyra's chest had begun to loosen.
"I'm starving," Ariana announced, sitting up and shaking sand from her hair. "And I require a drink with a little umbrella in it. Tiki bar?"
Lyra nodded, grateful for the plan. "Lead the way."
The tiki bar was a bustling, thatch-roofed oasis at the edge of the sand. They found two stools at the far end of the polished wooden counter, and Lyra was happily focusing on the menu, debating between fish tacos and a burger, when a familiar laugh cut through the din.
Her head snapped up. It was a sound she'd know anywhere, a sound that had recently featured in both her waking thoughts and her unsettling dreams.
There, three stools down, was Selene.
She was with Eliza, of course. They were leaning over a shared plate of nachos, and Eliza was saying something that made Selene throw her head back and laugh. The sight was like a punch to the gut. All the progress she'd made, all the peace she'd found in the sun and surf, evaporated in an instant. The old, familiar ache returned, sharp and immediate.
She must have been staring, her expression a dead giveaway, because Ariana followed her gaze. Her friend's eyes narrowed, then widened with recognition.
"Well, well," Ariana murmured, leaning close so only Lyra could hear. "Is that the lucky girl?"
Lyra couldn't speak. She just gave a tiny, stiff nod, her eyes fixed on Selene's profile, willing her not to turn around.
Ariana's face broke into a mischievous grin. "Oh, this is perfect," she whispered, her voice laced with playful scheming.
Before Lyra could ask what she meant, Ariana slid off her stool and stepped in front of her. She turned her back to the bar, effectively blocking Lyra's view of Selene, and wrapped her hands around Lyra's waist, pulling her close in a way that looked far more intimate than it was.
Lyra stiffened in surprise. "Ari, what are you doing?" she hissed, her hands coming up to rest awkwardly on Ariana's shoulders.
"Shhh," Ariana whispered, her grin unwavering. She leaned her forehead against Lyra's, her voice a low, conspiratorial hum. "Just go along with it. She's looking at us. Let's try and make her jealous."
Lyra's first instinct was to pull away. This felt childish, deceptive. But then she caught a glimpse over Ariana's shoulder. Selene had indeed turned. Her laughter had died, and she was watching them, a faint frown creasing her brow. A petty, wounded part of Lyra, the part that was still raw from being left behind, flared to life.
Let her see, that part whispered. Let her see that you're not just sitting at home waiting for her.
Ariana laughed, a bright, flirtatious sound that was for Selene's benefit alone, and nuzzled her nose against Lyra's cheek. "See? She can't look away."
Lyra didn't laugh. But she didn't pull away either. She let her body relax into the charade, offering Ariana a small, tight smile. She let her friend hold her, using the embrace as a shield against the hurtful scene just a few feet away. She was going along with it, not for the petty jealousy, but for the distraction. For the few moments where she could hide in the illusion of being wanted, instead of being the one left behind. It was a game, a silly beach-side performance, and for now, she was content to play her part if it meant a temporary respite from the pain.