( a breath momentarily seizes in her lungs. tiny, beaded droplets at the ends of her eyelashes scatter, on a flurried blink. there's something statue-still to the pause her body takes, seasoned fight-or-flight instincts at the ready. it's over much too soon for her to know what she might have done — if the warmth of his touch might have humiliated her into fumbling for more, if she might've welcomed it elsewhere. judging by the little pinprick of disappointment that stabs through her, she thinks she has her answer.

her mouth ticks upward into a delayed smile. when she dunks herself beneath the water and resurfaces, she's more confident she's rinsed the flustered shock from her face, where a pink flush has started to lather itself into her skin. then again, she's not sure she looks less ridiculous brushing the sopping, sticking curtain of her hair from plastering itself to her face. )

Not everyone here is — ( she pauses, lowers her voice into a more intimate hush, with a less than subtle glance over her shoulder. unsurprisingly, no one seems as interested in their conversation as they are in their fellow guests. hastily, she looks away, as if she's stumbled into someone's private moment, rather than being made to witness it. clearing her throat awkwardly, she mutters, ) — like us, if that's what you're thinking. You're the first person I've met here that's like me.