Tash was sitting next to Hugo on a deck chair, face to Ben, who took possession of the other deck chair and leaned on it as a reliable staff. Her heart pounding, her cheeks still burning and vibrating ball of joy stir deep in her belly. She felt magic lightly. While Ben twittered about any weekend in Amsterdam, Tesh squinted sideways. Hugo elbows rested on his knees, in one hand, a glass in the other lighter, his head lowered, his thick hair cover the face. He unbuttoned his stiff collar and untied bow tie, which now hung loosely around his neck. The wind played with his hair. Tash noticed that Hugo bolshoypalets biting, and he was bored to death.
From Sand To Glass
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