#whoooooaaaa

Aïsha Devi "Mazdâ" 

She’s really not sure what to make of the action. In all honesty, she should have flinched away the second their skin touched, yet here she stood, looking over at the water, music blaring behind them, and she felt his fingers brush hers. Softly, at first, almost as if by accident. And then, all at once her hand was enveloped in his own, and all she could manage to do was glance over at him, her expression almost confused. It’s a sudden slip in the unreadable mask she’s held all night, and the only true emotion she’s expressed since she met him. But it’s an emotion, and that should be enough, right?

Then she’ll turn back to the water, and she won’t pull her hand away. But she won’t wind her fingers through his, either. Or squeeze his hand. She’ll just acknowledge that she’s not going to end this as quickly as she might have, and that’s all she can do for now. And her accented voice flows from her lips, each word floating in the air and landing on the breakers.