Lost Creek Hollow Lights are gonna blind me

Usually she was tripping over her own feet, or tripping over Okeanos, or falling in to slow moving creeks without any prompting. To run in to the plush chest of a young man wasn't something she'd ever done before — but she did it, nose-diving against his shoulder and withdrawing in one (surprisingly fluid) motion. As she drew back the water in the rims of her eyes spilled over, and as shock registered with the widening of those eyes Ibis gasped and felt her face flush in embarrassment. His voice was unfamiliar but laced with concern, it sounded endearing, like he really cared — and the girl could only squeak, Uhhm, sorry, so sorry, before her tongue felt too heavy.

The awkwardness pushed her sorrow away temporarily. She was caught with the fluttering sensation of moths in her belly as she looked at him, and Ibis couldn't help but be doe-eyed and inanimate for a few moments as she gathered her thoughts. In the dark of the evening he seemed so luminous (a byproduct of being so pale one might suspect), and she ducked away from him hastily to try and get away before she went as red as summer berries; surely he could see how flushed she was? She felt so warm and so stupid — and in her haste to escape around him, she blundered in to him again.

This was positively mortifying.