Rub The Bottle
Chapter One: In Which I Find Something That Definitely Wasn't a Message in a Bottle
The sky was putting on its best show just before sunrise — soft pinks and golds bleeding into the blue like someone had spilled a paint set and decided to call it art. My private stretch of beach was completely empty, the waves doing their slow, soothing dance against the sand. I had a towel, a cooler with fresh coconut water and sliced mango, and absolutely nowhere else to be.
Perfect.
I'd bought...
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