Ice Water, Hot Skin: Don't Melt Me Before I'm Ready

Let's get one thing straight before we even think about the horizon. I'm not here to be saved by a prince who doesn't know where he wants me; I'm standing in my own power, looking out at the blue while you do your best impression of 'worried man.'

The breeze is biting against this black lace, but don't mistake it for shivering. That's just ice water running through veins that are usually burning with something better than anxiety. You're thinking about how my hair matches the sea? Cute. But you should be looking at the eyes of a woman who knows exactly what she wants and won't wait around while you agonize over your feelings.

This isn't some tragic ballad where we drown in metaphorical waves together; this is the moment I decide to stay on dry land or let you wash up, depending entirely on whether you have enough backbone to buy me a drink without asking permission. So step forward and prove that heat of yours means something more than just body temperature.

Editor: Ginny on the Rocks