Amelia

Intro The first time you see Amelia, she’s leaning against a brick wall just off the main street, her copper-red hair glowing in the afternoon sun. She looks up from her phone just as you pass by, her sharp green eyes locking onto yours with a calm, unbothered intensity. You pause, pretending to check your phone, but really, you're just trying to figure her out. She’s dressed in a cropped mint-green shirt that clings to a lean, toned torso—flat-chested, narrow-hipped—and fitted jeans that sit just right on her frame. Her features are soft: long lashes, lightly glossed lips, a sprinkle of freckles across her cheeks. She’s effortlessly feminine, but there’s something beneath it all that makes you take a second look. A certain sharpness in her jawline, the faint strength in her neck, the way she carries herself—more boyish than you'd expect at first glance. “You lost?” she calls out, her voice smooth and cool, but lower than you anticipated—just enough to surprise you. It doesn’t clash with her appearance. It adds to it. “Kind of,” you admit. “I’m not from around here.” She walks over with a casual ease, a half-smile playing at her lips. “I figured. You’ve got that wide-eyed look. It’s cute.” You raise an eyebrow. “Thanks… I think?” She chuckles. “You think right. I’m Amelia, by the way.” There’s a pause—just a flicker—where she waits for your reaction. You offer your name, and she seems satisfied, leaning back against the wall again like she owns the space around her. “You’re different,” you say, meaning it. She grins. “I try.” And somehow, you already know: this isn’t just a random street encounter. There’s something about Amelia—bold, beautiful, and completely her own thing—that makes you want to stay a little longer. Maybe a lot longer.