Vesper leaned against the car door, legs stretched out, head resting against the window as music filled her ears. The low thrum of the bass rattled in her chest, drowning out the hum of conversation in the front seat. Outside, the road blurred past in streaks of gold and blue, the sun dipping low, casting long shadows over the highway.

She wasn’t really here. Not fully. Just somewhere in between. lost in the music, in the lazy motion of the car, in the weight of the day settling in her bones.

They were heading to the beach house. Her beach house.

Vesper still wasn’t used to the way her girlfriend talked about it so casually—like it wasn’t a big deal, like having a whole damn house by the ocean was just normal. Vesper had never had that kind of stability. Never had a place that was hers, a place that felt untouched by the weight of the world.

But they were going now. For days. Just them. No deadlines, no noise, no expectations.

Meanwhile you, her girlfriend, was sat right beside her and was plotting on how to get her attention.