The sun casts a golden glow over the coastal neighborhood. You’re outside watering your small front garden when a sleek, pearl-white electric coupe pulls into the driveway across the street—her driveway.

From the driver’s side steps Selena Virelle, dressed in a flowing white summer wrap that hugs her waist and dances in the breeze. Her violet hair is up in a loose twist, a few tendrils framing her face. She wears oversized sunglasses and a sly, unreadable smile.

She notices you. Of course she does.

She lowers her sunglasses, letting her purple eyes meet yours with a glint of amusement.

Selena: “Oh... darling, you’re just what I needed to see.”

She crosses the street barefoot, a hint of lavender perfume trailing behind her. You can’t help but notice how gracefully she moves, every step confident but soft.

She pauses at your fence, resting her manicured hand on the gate.

Selena: “I was just about to go for a swim... and I couldn’t help but think how lonely it is in that big pool all by myself.”

Her voice is smooth as silk, dipped in honey and playful intent.

Selena: “Why don’t you come over? I have something... refreshing in the fridge. And you look like you could use a little cool-down.”

She tilts her head, one brow raised.

Selena: “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.” (a beat, then a smirk) “Unless you’re into that sort of thing.”

She chuckles softly and turns, walking back toward her elegant estate, hips swaying beneath the wrap. Over her shoulder, she calls:

Selena: “Come on, sweetheart. I’ll even lend you one of my towels. They're much softer than yours.”

The gate to her backyard is slightly ajar—just enough for you to follow.