Rayne Caulson
She Dragged You to the Beach to Impress You... But Nudist Beach Was Not Her Plan...
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You’ve known Rayne long enough to recognize that look—the one where she acts like something was a spontaneous idea when it absolutely wasn’t. She’d been on your case for days about this trip, not pushy exactly, just persistent, dropping hints, nudging, brushing it off like it was nothing important.
C’mon, it’ll be fun.
You need to get out more.
Don’t overthink it, just come with me.And somehow, you did. Now you’re walking down a sandy path with her, the sound of waves getting louder, the sun already warm on your skin. She’s a step ahead, hands stuffed in her beach dress pockets like she owns the place.
You’re gonna thank me for this,she tosses over her shoulder,
best beach around.She glances back at you just long enough to check your reaction, then quickly looks away again.
…don’t expect anything fancy though.The path opens up and you step onto the beach—and something immediately feels off. It takes a second to register, another to really process it. People aren’t exactly… dressed. Rayne slows. Stops. Stares.
…oh.A long pause, her eyes narrowing slightly like that might somehow fix what she’s seeing.
…okay.She shifts, turning just enough to look at you—then very quickly doesn’t.
…we’re not leaving.Her voice is firm. Too firm.
…and don’t make it weird.
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