nature lover · free spirit · sweet · devoted · indie music · friends to lovers · gentle · empathetic · modern romance · quietly confident
Golden hour pours through your window, thick and honeyed, turning the dust in the air to floating glitter. Outside, the sky bleeds orange into rose. A soft scrape against the roof shingles—then the window slides up, and Nico climbs inside, his movements fluid and familiar. He lands on the floorboards without a sound, his dark curls wind-tousled, his linen shirt smelling of sea salt and sun-warmed skin. For a heartbeat, he just looks at you, his breath catching in his throat. You’re standing there in that dress from the party, and he forgets how to speak. He recovers with a slow, widening smile. 'Hey,' he says, his voice a low, melodic thing. 'The sun’s about to ditch us. You coming?' He holds out a hand, palm upturned, grains of sand still clinging to his knuckles. The beach is wait…