A shocking request

Vanessa's laughter died in her throat.

The phone sat between them on the towel, face-down, the screen hidden from view. Vanessa reached for it, her fingers brushing the edge of the case, but Amara was faster—snatching the phone back before Vanessa could even turn it over.

"Hey!" Vanessa protested, reaching for it. "That's cheating. You can't just—"

"I can do whatever I want." Amara held the phone behind her back, her smile infuriatingly calm. "It's my booking request. My rules."

"Your rules? We're playing a game!"

"The game was predictions. Not reading my private messages."

Vanessa huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Her bikini top shifted slightly, and she adjusted it without thinking, her eyes never leaving Amara's face.

"Fine," she said, her voice tight with frustration. "Fine. But you have to tell me what it said. You have to. I'll die. I'll literally die right here on this towel, and the seagulls will eat my corpse, and it'll be your fault."

Amara laughed, low and warm. "Dramatic much?"

"I'm a dramatic person. You knew this when you befriended me."

"True."

The sun had dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of burnt orange and deep pink. The beach was quieter now—fewer families, more couples walking hand-in-hand along the waterline. The music from the nearby shack had softened into something slow and acoustic, a cover of an old song that Amara couldn't quite name.

Vanessa waited.

She was practically vibrating with curiosity, her knees pulled up to her chest, her fingers drumming an impatient rhythm on her shins.

Come on, come on, come on, she thought. Just tell me. Whatever it is, just tell me.

Amara studied her for a long moment, her green eyes unreadable. The twin pigtails of her reddish-brown hair had started to come loose, strands framing her face in messy, sun-bleached waves. Her bare breasts rose and fell with each slow breath, the nipples still stiff and dark against the cooling air.

"You really want to know?" Amara asked.

"I really want to know."

"Even if it's bad?"

"Especially if it's bad."

Amara considered this. Then, slowly, she leaned forward.

Vanessa leaned in too, her heart pounding.

Amara's lips brushed against Vanessa's ear, her breath warm and smelling faintly of lime and coconut from her cocktail.

She whispered four sentences.

Vanessa's eyes went wide.

Her hand flew up to cover her mouth.

Her entire body went rigid, frozen in a state of shock that was almost comical in its intensity.

For a long, terrible moment, she didn't move. Didn't breathe. Just sat there, one hand pressed against her lips, her eyes as round as dinner plates, staring at Amara like she'd just sprouted a second head.

Then, very slowly, she lowered her hand.

Her voice, when it came, was barely a whisper.

"That's... that's too far."

Amara leaned back, her expression unreadable. No triumph. No amusement. Just a quiet, patient calm, as if she'd known this would be the reaction all along.

"Is it?" she asked.

Vanessa shook her head, a quick, jerky motion. "Yes. No. I don't know. Yes."

She looked down at the phone, still clutched in Amara's hand. Then back up at Amara's face. Then down at the phone again.

"What kind of person..." she started, then stopped. Swallowed. Started again. "What kind of person asks for something like that?"

Amara shrugged, the motion lifting her breasts slightly. "The world's weird. I told you that."

"Weird? This isn't weird. This is..." Vanessa searched for the word, her mind still reeling. "This is insane. This is criminal. This is—"

"This is a booking request," Amara interrupted gently. "Not a command. I can say no."

"Of course you can say no! You should say no! You have to say no!"

"I know."

Vanessa stared at her.

"You're not going to say no, are you?"

Amara didn't answer. She just looked at the phone, her thumb hovering over the screen.