How do you navigate a world that has always seemed just out of grasp?
Isabela has always known how to navigate life without sight. Growing up in a small town on California's coast, she relied on her instincts, her unbreakable connection to the sea...
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I couldn't take my eyes off her. Isabela's face was flushed with embarrassment, her cheeks glowing a deep red, and somehow, I found it... cute. She was handling this ridiculous dare with so much grace—more than I expected from someone who'd spent the last day recoving in a hospital bed, as well have bandages and stitches all over her body. Honestly, I hadn't really taken the time to look at her yesterday. I'd felt too guilty, knowing it was my fault she was there in the first place. But now, I saw her differently.
Her skin had that sun-kissed glow, the kind that spoke of years spent by the beach. Little freckles dotted her nose, only visible if you looked closely, adding to the natural beauty she had. Her hair, chestnut brown with streaks of blonde, probably lightened by the sun and saltwater, cascaded down in natural big culrs. It suited her perfectly—like she was still a part of the ocean, even though she was here, sitting in a dressing room, far from the waves.
She wore a few gold necklaces, each one holding a seashell or a natural pearl. They fit her laid-back, beachy vibe, and somehow, they felt like little pieces of her home, wrapped around her neck. I remembered her telling me about how hard it was to leave the beach behind to move to the city. At 22, she had made the shift to pursue environmental law, trying to protect the ocean she loved so much. I admired that. She wasn't the type to stay comfortable; she was willing to change, to make sacrifices, for something she believed in so strongly.
As I watched her, I wasn't even really listening to the conversation happening around me. The only thing I could focus on were her green eyes—honestly, they were the most beautiful eyes I'd ever seen. Even though she couldn't see with them, they still sparkled when she laughed or when she concentrated. There was something almost painful about knowing that, despite how beautifully green her eyes were, the universe had dealt her this cruel hand. She never even got to understand what colors were. Still, when she laughed and joked with everyone else, you'd never guess that she was blind. She fit right in, even playing silly games like this with the rest of us.
Suddenly, I snapped back to the present when I realized Isabela's mom was ranting in rapid-fire Portuguese on the phone, her voice animated and loud. Isabela's face contorted into a grimace—something I wasn't used to seeing. I preferred her smiling, and I could tell from the tension in her expression that she wasn't enjoying this as much anymore. Her mom must've been going on for a few minutes because Isabela hadn't gotten a word in yet.
Through all the noise, I caught a part of her mom's rant. Isabela Kalani Silva. That was her full name. It sounded... beautiful. It was perfect, really—just like her.
Julian and the guys could barely contain themselves, practically biting their lips to keep from laughing as Isabela sat there, squirming with embarrassment. But I didn't find it funny. I didn't like seeing her like this, under pressure, with her mom going off on her. Even though it was all part of the dare, it just didn't seem fair.
Her mom's voice broke through again, this time in English, her accent thick with agitation. "Isabela, why are you calling from James' phone? Don't tell me you actually got pregnant from him!"
