Deon woke to sunlight sneaking past the curtains and his phone buzzing against the nightstand.
Amina: Hey, early bird? ☀️
Amina: It's my last day here. We should make it count.
Amina: Breakfast? I know a spot.
He stared at the screen for a second, the ghost of Sierra's warmth flickering in his chest. Then he exhaled and typed back:
Lead the way.
If Sierra wanted distance today, that was fine. He'd found someone who actually wanted him around.
⸻
The place Amina led him to was barely more than a corner café hidden between a laundromat and a bookstore. Handwritten menus. Steam-fogged windows. Locals only.
She waved to the old woman behind the counter like they were old friends. "Told you it's good," she said, sliding into the booth.
Deon grinned. "You're too comfortable here. You sure you're leaving tomorrow?"
She shrugged. "Some places feel like they were waiting for you. Doesn't mean you get to stay."
They lingered over coffee and pancakes that came stacked like a dare, laughing over the smallest things. Every time he made her laugh, she'd cover her mouth too late — that soft, snorty laugh that he was already addicted to.
By noon they'd drifted toward the market, shoulder to shoulder among stalls selling trinkets and handmade sweets.
Amina tugged on his arm at one stand. "We need matching bracelets."
"Need is a strong word."
"Fine. Want matching bracelets."
He tried to argue, but she'd already bought them — simple braided cords, blue for him, red for her.
They hit the beach next, the ocean stretching wide and blinding. She'd teased him about "wetting his appetite" earlier, and when she stepped out from behind the parasol in her swimsuit — tasteful, but lethal — he realized she hadn't been joking.
"See?" she said, spinning once. "Appetite properly whetted?"
"Starving," he said before he could stop himself.
She laughed, but her blush betrayed her.
They swam, they splashed, they drifted. Time disappeared. When she caught him watching her float in the surf, she just smiled. "Don't drown," she warned.
"You've seen me in shallow waters. You think I'll drown?"
"That was low tide. Might be high tide next time."
"I can ride a wave."
"Indeed." She said a blush coming to her cheek.
⸻
Afterward, they ended up in her room, damp from the beach, sprawled on opposite sides of the bed talking about nothing and everything.
He learned that she was also a nurse. They bonded over stories of the craziest patients they ever had, and how other nurses, not them of course, could be so lazy.
"It's like they can't be bothered to do anything. No I can't come roll your patient Sarah!"
"High key. It's worse for a guy though. Everybody always wants me to lift something or move something."
"Well we woman are delicate things you know?" She said batting her lashes. "On behalf of your co-workers we are sincerely grateful.
"Lol, miss me with all that and come help me roll this fat guy."
She snorted with laughter and quickly hid her face with both hands.
"Stop making me do that!" She laughed tossing a pillow his way.
"My bad, my bad." He chuckled catching the pillow. "Being a nurse was never really the vision for me though. I'm not much of a caring soul."
"I think you care more than you admit," she said softly.
"Maybe." He smiled at the ceiling. "You talk like you've known me longer than three days."
"Feels like I have."
A beat passed. Not awkward — just full.
Then she sighed, sitting up. "We should probably rest up before the festival tonight."
"Or we could skip. Order in." He countered
"Don't tempt me. It's the last night let's do the festival. I promise you'll be glad we did."
"Alright it's a promise. Guess I'll get going."
"Okay. See you later."
He didn't move. Neither did she.
⸻
Deon returned to his room reluctantly to get ready. Sierra hadn't texted. Keyon hadn't called. It was like the universe had given him a free pass to just be.
When he stepped out wearing the pale blue kimono she'd told him to bring, his phone buzzed.
Amina: At the gates. Look for Snow White with flowers.
He smiled. Of course she'd say it like that.
When he found her under the lanterns, dressed in that snow-white kimono with floral patterns blooming across the silk, she looked like she belonged in the light.
The crowd swirled around them. Drums in the distance. The smell of grilled meat.
She grinned, holding up two candied apples. "Dinner of champions."
He took one. "Guess that makes me a champion."
"Guess it does."
They ate, laughed, and wandered through the festival like they were kids again, the kind who still believed nights like this could last forever.
When she tugged on his sleeve and whispered, "Come on, there's a place I want to show you," he didn't hesitate.
The sound of the crowd faded behind them, replaced by the hush of trees and the faint hum of summer insects.
At the small, half-forgotten shrine, lantern light brushed across their faces.
Amina turned to him, cheeks pink from more than just the heat. "There's something I've only seen in manga," she said, voice soft. "Something I've always wanted to try..."
Deon's pulse kicked. "Oh yeah?"
Her smile tilted. "Wanna guess?"
"Guess? Don't insult me. I'm a man of culture as well."
"So much talking. Show me."
The rest didn't need words.