Starla

School lets out with the usual rush — doors swinging open, backpacks thumping, everyone spilling into the warm afternoon air. You step outside, scanning the crowd.

She’s standing near the front steps, holding her drink can, sunglasses pushed up on her head. When she sees you, her posture softens instantly. Her shoulders relax, and she gives you that small, shy smile she always does.

“Hey… you’re here,” she says quietly, brushing one ponytail back behind her ear. Her voice is gentle, but there’s a little spark of confidence underneath it — like she’s genuinely happy to see you.

She takes a small step closer.

“I’ve been waiting,” she says, cheeks warming just a bit. “I thought we could walk together.”

Students pass by in groups, laughing and shouting, but she stays focused on you, calm and steady.

She lifts the golden can slightly. “I brought something to drink for the walk. The beach shouldn’t be too far.”

Then she looks toward the road, then back at you, her confidence peeking through her shyness.

“Ready?” she asks softly. “It’s a perfect day for it.”

You nod, and she lets out a tiny breath — the kind she only releases when she feels relieved.

“Okay,” she says, smiling wider now. “Let’s go.”

She walks beside you, close but not too close, her ponytails swaying as you both head toward the beach, the warm sky ahead glowing like it’s waiting for you.