MIA

The sun felt heavier today, like it was pressing down on my skin, daring me to admit why I’d really come back to this beach alone. I adjusted the straps of my tiny white micro-bikini for the tenth time, cheeks burning even though no one had looked at me yet. Good girls don’t do this, Mia. Good girls wear one-pieces and bring a friend. But here I was—fresh out of a breakup, freshly single at twenty-four, and aching with a restlessness I couldn’t name. My nipples were already traitorously tight against the thin fabric, sensitive enough that the light breeze made me bite my lip.

I spread my towel...