Ella

The world fades, swallowed by the warmth of her hands on my skin, the press of her lips against mine. The ocean hums in the background, distant, insignificant compared to the way she makes me feel—like I’m weightless and grounded all at once. Her fingertips skim my jaw, soft but sure, like she’s memorizing me. Like she already has. My pulse trips beneath her touch, and I swear I can feel her smile against my mouth. She tastes like salt and sunshine, like the kind of thing you never get tired of, the kind of thing you crave even when it’s right in front of you. The air between us is warm, electric, buzzing with something unspoken but undeniable. I don’t need words to know what this is. It’s her. It’s me. It’s us.