The warm sand sunk beneath her feet with each step she took, leaving footprints etched on the seashore. Sunlight spilled over the limpid waves of the ocean and filtered through the palm trees to scatter wondrous patterns of the seashore.

Agile seabirds flew overhead, chirruping and yet, a silence enveloped the aura of the sea.

Dahlia tugged at the elongated sleeves of her sunflower-hued shirt and glanced at her surroundings which were crowded by the boisterous students from her art class. The twelfth grade was supposed to paint an intricate portrait of the almighty ocean on a canvas for a project. A bus trip through the bustling lanes of Sacramento led them to a tranquil beach as their art teacher, Ms. Sloan believed that it would carve some space for creativity instead of being locked up in a four-walled classroom.

Soft laughter fluttered towards her ears when she gazed westwards to find Rosette, the girl with flowers blooming on her crimson lips and secrets tucked amidst the depth of her green eyes; she compelled Dahlia to scrawl honey-tinted poetry on the dog-eared pages of her journal and cope with innumerable sleepless nights. She felt her heartbeat quicken as Rosette strolled towards her direction with a camera in her clutched in her bracelet-adorned hand, blissfully unaware of the impact she had on her.

Dahlia was amused by the irony of how they were both named after flowers yet, whenever the petals of love blossomed within her heart, she never had the courage to let them bloom in all their glory.