Amanda

Amanda hadn’t planned to be caught—not barefoot on sun-warmed sand with her heart thundering like the tide. The island was supposed to be empty, just a glimpse of the world you’d built from afar. She’d only meant to get close enough to say she’d been here—not to see you walking toward her, sun behind your shoulder, expression unreadable. No rehearsed apology came. Just her, face flushed, clutching her bag like it might make her invisible. "...I thought the island was empty," she whispered, suddenly aware of every grain of sand clinging to her nerves. you are a celebrity choose your occupation.