She asked the question so naturally, it didn't even seem to register how suggestive it might sound in a setting like this.
Oakley Ponciano was, in every sense of the word, something else. Unbothered by conventions, charmingly unpredictable.
Grace Barron's eyes flicked downward, gaze settling on those full, soft lips. "What brought that on all of a sudden?"
She'd mentioned once—her last "relationship" barely qualified as one. A lonely equation that yielded nothing. She didn't like to talk about it. Mostly because there wasn't anything to talk about. Just a stretch of emptiness, silent and wide.
"I was just curious," Oakley replied lightly, smiling so sweetly that dimples appeared softly on her cheeks. Her slender frame tilted slightly toward Grace. "You just… look like you'd be a really good kisser. Plus, with lips like that? It'd be a shame not to use them."
They were already sitting close. Now, even the air between them seemed thinner.
Grace let out a quiet laugh, her eyes half-lidded. "Careful now, Oakley. You ask questions like that, I'll start thinking you want to kiss me."
Oakley giggled, resting her chin on her hand, her pale wrist elegantly bent. "Can I?"
Grace raised an eyebrow, neither confirming nor denying anything.
At that moment, a waiter approached with their food, effectively snapping the tension like a twig.
The rice platter came in a wide round tray, layered with deep green banana leaves. In the center sat a tricolor sticky rice dome, surrounded by golden lemongrass fish, smoky grilled pork belly, spicy chicken, dried beef, crisp vegetables, and fresh fruit—vivid and generous.
Only now did they both realize how lucky they were not to have ordered more.
The tray nearly covered the entire table.
Oakley gave the server a polite thank-you before pulling out her phone for a picture. "So flashy," she murmured. "But really pretty."
She hadn't posted in a while. This trip, at least, would give her enough content to prove to her friends that yes, she was still alive.
Grace set her own phone down. "It's not just pretty—it actually tastes good."
A rare combination of looks and substance.
Oakley reviewed the shot, then asked absently, "So we're supposed to grab it to eat, right?"
"Yep." Grace reached out and placed two plastic gloves in front of her.
"Thanks~" Oakley's smile was sweet. But before diving in, she hesitated, eyebrows delicately pinching. "Wait. How do you actually eat this?"
Grace looked at her suspended hands and smirked. "I'll show you."
"Please do."
"Like this." Grace flattened a lettuce leaf in her palm, added a scoop of sticky rice, then layered on meat and vegetables, finally wrapping it up. She held it out like a demonstration.
"Just like Korean BBQ," Oakley nodded, then began making her own.
She was far greedier with her portions, stacking her lettuce to near overflow. Thankfully, sticky rice holds its shape—it stayed mostly intact.
After the first bite, Oakley gave a contented thumbs up. "You're right. This is really good. No wonder my dad talks about it so much. I'm definitely bringing him next time."
She was always like that—whenever she found something delightful, she immediately wanted to share it with her family.
Unfortunately, her parents had been swamped lately, no time for little outings.
Grace looked up. "You seem really close to your parents."
"We are," Oakley said with quiet pride. "You know how some people hide their posts from their parents, split friend groups, that whole thing? I never do that. There's really nothing I hide from them."
"There was this one time they visited me at school—everyone was shocked at how we got along. Said it felt unreal, how free and affectionate we were."
It was clear—Oakley was proud of the relationship. Her eyes sparkled when she spoke of them.
Maybe that's why she turned out the way she did—so confident, unguarded, and full of ease. Among all the people Grace had ever met, Oakley was probably the only one who could shrink the distance between strangers with such alarming speed.
She'd had her share of scars, sure. Built a few walls. But they never lasted long. Not with her.
Oakley said what she wanted. Did what she pleased. Some would call it impulsive—but really, isn't that what living's supposed to be?
People who spend all their time worrying about others tend to forget who they are.
"It sounds… really good," Grace murmured over a sip of lemon water. "Your family's the kind most people dream about. And most never get."
Oakley, already preparing her third wrap, nodded. "Yeah. Took me a while to realize that."
It explained a lot—why she often felt like she rubbed people the wrong way just by being. Her family was rare. So her personality was rare too. It made things bumpy when she first entered the adult world.
She found people too sensitive. They found her too blunt. At first, it rattled her. But not anymore.
"Guess you saved the world in your past life," Grace peeled off her gloves. Too much rice too fast—she felt lightheaded.
Oakley laughed, eyes dancing. "Possibly! What about you? What's your family like?"
She suddenly noticed how she'd been doing most of the talking.
Grace lifted her gaze. "My grandma was very good to me."
"Your Grandma?" Oakley leaned closer. "What about your parents?"
Grace looked toward the nearby trees, her voice soft. "They're fine."
Oakley nodded, not pressing further. She chewed thoughtfully, then held up her drink and pointed at the lemongrass fish. "This one's amazing. You have to try it once you recover."
Grace smiled faintly. "Okay."
After dinner, they wandered nearby.
Grace asked, "Are you interested in caves? Like, the ones with stalactites?"
Oakley turned, curious. "You mean those limestone ones?"
"Yeah. If you're interested, I can book us a ride. We can go tomorrow."
"Sounds fun." Oakley strolled ahead, hair swaying behind her. "What time would we leave?"
"Around six." Grace calculated. "It's over two hours away. After we visit, we can have lunch, then walk in a park. Hit the night market in the evening."
"Perfect." Oakley stopped and turned. "You have pictures of the place?"
"Yeah." Grace opened her phone. "Give me a sec."
She scrolled and held it out. "This one."
"Oooh, pretty." Oakley scrolled with a fingertip. "Let's go there."
Grace opened another app. "I'll book it now."
"I'll set an alarm." Oakley unlocked her phone.
"No need," Grace said. "I'll wake you."
"Oh, right." Oakley laughed. "I forgot. You're basically my living planner. Love it."
She hated rigid schedules. And Grace, ever thorough, suddenly tilted her head.
"You know… Oakley, aren't you a little too trusting of me?"
Oakley blinked. "Hm?"
"I mean—Aren't you worried at all? What if I had bad intentions? You'd be in trouble."
Oakley giggled. "I trust you. I know you're decent."
Grace tilted her head. "Really? What makes you so sure?"
Oakley studied her face. "Because you're good. The kind of good that's not performative. You'd never do anything to hurt me."
That was high praise—too high.
Grace turned it over, then asked, "Is that so? You're certain?"
"Of course." Oakley looked right at her.
Grace smiled. "So you've decided I'm safe enough to shack up with long-term, huh?"
Oakley laughed. "We just met. Let's not get ahead of ourselves."
"Mm." Grace nodded. "So that earlier part—that was you giving me the 'nice person' badge, wasn't it?"
Oakley didn't reply, just smiled mysteriously and glanced at the time.
"We should probably head back, huh? Wash up, get some sleep. Big day tomorrow."
"Right."
They flagged a cab and headed back to the Airbnb.
—
Back at the room, Oakley still needed to remove her makeup. Grace went ahead and took the shower first.
When she emerged, Oakley was barefaced—and stunning. Some girls were pretty because of makeup. Oakley? She glowed without it. Softer. Younger. Still mesmerizing.
"Done?" Oakley asked cheerfully.
"Yeah," Grace said, reaching for her moisturizer. "All yours."
"Okay." Oakley grabbed her pajamas and slipped into the bathroom.
While she showered, Grace replied to a few messages, coordinated with their driver, and arranged tomorrow's schedule. Her phone was nearly dead. She reached for the charger.
A soft click—Oakley stepped out.
She wore a pearl-toned sleep shirt, oversized and silky, hanging delicately off her frame. It accentuated her lithe build in all the right ways.
Grace couldn't help but look—just for a moment.
"Do you have toner?" Oakley asked suddenly. "I think I forgot mine."
"Here." Grace handed over a travel bottle.
"Thanks." Oakley smiled, tapped it gently into her skin.
Once she was done, she climbed into bed, tugging the blanket over her legs, and looked over. "Almost done?"
"Almost." Grace tapped out her final message, then put her phone down.
She glanced over.
Oakley yawned lazily, already curled under the covers, her eyes fluttering.
Grace hesitated—just a beat—then rose and walked toward her.