Olivia
The coastline greeted me with a peaceful aura the next morning. As the soft light of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and orange, I was momentarily distracted by the smell of bacon wafting through the open window of my bedroom.
It was unusual for me to wake up to the aroma of a cooked meal. Not only that, but the sound of someone knocking and calling my name.
“Olivia? You awake?”
It was Nathan.
I sat up, adjusting my hair, which had gone wild during sleep.
“Um, yeah,” I said, my voice gravelly from sleep. “Come in.”
And there he was. Nathan, standing by the doorway with a tray filled with delectable breakfast goodies: pancakes stacked high with a dollop of butter on top, crispy bacon, freshly squeezed orange juice, and a small vase with a single wil
