Milan loved the beach, but even the warmth of the sun and the peaceful splashing of waves couldn't fully distract her. Hazel was where her attention roamed along the beach, giggling as she kicked sand, the light playing in her hair. Milan's gaze stuck, tracing the lines of Hazel's long, straight legs, the wave-like curves, the smooth motion in her steps. Hazel's innocent face, her broad, questioning eyes and gentle features, contracted Milan's chest. She chastised herself immediately inwardly. Hazel was naive, a virgin, a girl who had gone the way of the nun. Milan's thoughts were not to stray here.
But they did.
As the group was building sandcastles, frisbeeing, and playing with the waves, Milan was always sneaking peeks, noting the small things Hazel did: the way she brushed the sand off her towel, the way she leaned her head when she laughed, the rosy glow on her cheeks from a run in the sun. Every movement, every laugh, pulled at something deep inside Milan fascination, admiration, a thrill she did not mean to indulge. Hazel was still innocent, unsullied by the adult world, and Milan respected that.
As Hazel pulled out the sunscreen and attempted to reach her own back, Milan's heart stuttered. "I can help you," she said gently, stepping in. Hazel hesitated, then nodded, trusting Milan. As she applied the lotion, her fingers lightly brushed over Hazel's shoulders. The action was innocent, gentle, yet the slickness of Hazel's skin beneath her fingers produced tiny, thrilling shivers along Milan's spine. Hazel's voice, so soft and songlike as she whispered thanks, only added to the draw.
"Thanks… I couldn't have made it on my own," Hazel blushed, shyly.
"No problem," Milan replied, speaking casually. But to herself, she lingered on the moment a fraction longer than she might have.After that, they laid a towel across the sand, near the water, and let sand stick to moistened skin. Hazel kicked at the sand, laughing, letting it stick to her toes.
"It's been forever since I've been to the beach," Hazel said softly, her gaze on the horizon. "I didn't know how peaceful it would feel… even with all these people running around."
"Yeah," Milan said, tilting her head to watch her. "There's something about it. The sound of the waves, the wind… it makes everything a little slower."
Hazel's eyes sparkled. "Do you come here a lot?"
"Sometimes," Milan admitted. "Normally when I have to focus. Or escape the noises of the city. Even when it's crowded, it's like it is private."
Hazel nodded thoughtfully. "I can understand why you'd love that. To be able to somewhere where you just. breathe. I've been away for so long. Sometimes I forget what normal feels like."
Milan smiled. "I think we all could use a place like that. A place where we can just… be. Without expectations, without rules, just… uncomplicated."
Hazel cocked her head. "It's odd… when I was at the convent, it was serene too. But differently. Everything's organized. Quiet. Serene. But here, it's alive. Free. I like this."
Milan leaned back onto her elbows, the sun's warmth on her shoulders. "Freedom occasionally is terrifying. But moments such as these. They're worth it. You can simply be without worrying about what next."
Hazel smiled softly. "I'd remain like this forever, I think. Just. sun, sand, surf, and. little talk. No hurry, no stress."
"Too much talking is fine," Milan replied. "It's amazing how much you notice by talking about the small things. You see the world differently."
Hazel stared at her, amazement shining in her eyes. "Really? What do you mean?"
"I mean… how you notice things, the way the sun catches the water, or the way the waves crash differently on either shore. The little things most people don't notice," Milan said, her tone soft. "Even people. The way a person smiles, or laughs… it tells more than words.".
Hazel's cheeks grew pink. "I… I enjoy paying attention. I enjoy when life is genuine. When people are genuine." She turned to Milan. "You make it easy to talk. I feel… comfortable."
Milan's chest tightened at the words. "I'm glad. You're easy to be around, Hazel. You notice things most people don't, and it makes even small moments seem… more alive.".
Hazel smiled shyly. "Thank you. I like being here… talking with you. I feel. lighter."
Milan nodded, letting a warm softness settle in her chest. "That's good. That's exactly how it should feel."
They fell into comfortable silence, both of them watching the waves, listening to the laughter and gulls far away. Hazel's hair stuck to her sun-warmed shoulders, and the wind tossed a strand or two across her face. Milan was drawn to each little movement, yet she kept herself protected, unspoken fascination, unbridled admiration, the connection intact.
The afternoon proceeded in boisterous laughter: they darted barefoot along the surf, splashing one another, building sandcastles with absurdly-turreted tops, and torturing each other ruthlessly. Hazel laughed so spontaneously it was painful to Milan to see, that uncontrolled joy provoking a sharp, compelling need to protect her.
While they competed to construct sandcastles, Hazel leaned over Milan, asking for advice on how to construct the tallest turret. Their fingers brushed against the damp sand. Hazel laughed with the coarse resultant, and Milan shivered, relishing the innocent closeness so spontaneous on Hazel's side, so compelling on Milan's.
As the sun dipped towards the horizon, the group collapsed onto towels, exhausted but happy. Hazel's hair clung to her damp shoulders, her cheeks flushed with laughter and the sun. She lay out, reclining back, and Milan stood there quietly, soaking up every little thing. Hazel's innocence, her naivety, the way she trusted Milan so readily was captivating.
That night, lying in her bed, Milan's thoughts replayed every moment. Hazel's laughter, the sensation of her skin when she applied the sunscreen, the gentle, trusting quality of her voice as it all suspended there. She chomped on her lips, rebuking herself. Hazel was wholesome, a nun-in-the-making, out of bounds. Anything more, thoughts about it, were not allowed… yet they lingered in her thoughts.
Even as she drifted off to sleep, Milan knew she would wake up with the same gentle ache in her chest, drawn to the girl whose innocence only intensified the attraction. She would recall Hazel tomorrow, observe her, protect her, remain a little closer in thought than necessary.