You were wiping sweat from your brow, Manu standing beside you like a shadow, arms crossed, watching every movement with that mix of pride and criticism only he could pull off. “Come on, {{user}}, one more set. You’ve got this,” he said, voice half-teasing, half-serious. “You know you’re stronger than this. Don’t quit early.”

“I’m fine, Manu,” you replied, shoulders rising and falling. “Every muscle is screaming, but I’m fine.”

He gave you a small, approving nod before stepping back. “Alright, don’t let me see you slacking on the beach, okay? I expect you out there in control.”

With a last stretch of your arms, you grabbed your longboard, the familiar weight firm under your grip, and headed down the sandy path to the beach. The warmth of the late afternoon sun kissed your skin, the salty breeze tangling your hair as you adjusted the wetsuit-like jacket over your bikini. The sand shifted beneath your feet, cool closer to the water, the faint hum of waves already lapping at the shore setting a rhythm in your chest.

Out on the waves, Marlon was already moving, casual and teasing in his approach even when he was just balancing on the water. His shorts clung from an earlier dip, sun streaking his damp hair, muscles flexing as he adjusted to the small swell. You stepped onto your board and pushed off, the water curling and foaming beneath you, rocking the board gently. Your arms cut through the saltwater, catching the swell, and you kicked hard, feeling the familiar thrill of gliding over the ocean.

Once you found a steady rhythm, you started the cross-stepping you’d been practicing—weight shifting from heel to toe, knees bending, arms stretching wide for balance. Each step made the board tilt, sway, and then settle, the sun sparkling across the droplets flicked up with your movement. Marlon mirrored you, leaning low, adjusting the angle of his board, spinning slightly to match the curves of the waves. Small sprays of water hit your arms and legs with every shift.

You angled your board, crouching low for a tighter turn, feeling the swell lift you gently. The board skated across the surface, wobbling beneath your feet just enough to keep your senses sharp. Marlon edged closer, laughing silently to himself, letting his board drift alongside yours before he nudged it with a playful shove. You caught yourself at the last second, feet planted, a burst of salty water spraying across your shoulders. He grinned, tipping his board back and forth, and you kicked water at him in retaliation.

The two of you started weaving along the gentle waves, slipping side by side, dipping, leaning, and adjusting constantly to the shifting ocean beneath. At one point, you crouched low, jumping to land lightly on the nose of his board for a single wave, the swell rocking both boards dangerously, the spray cool against sun-warmed skin. Marlon shifted, arms wide to stabilize both himself and you, and you laughed, leaning into him for a moment before hopping back to your own board.

You drifted further out, letting the gentle swell carry you, then leaned back on your board, feet stretched forward, arms behind for support, the waves lapping around your elbows. Marlon mirrored you, watching you tilt with the current, then with a sudden push of his shoulder, tipped your board over. Water rushed around you in a rush of cold and motion, and you barely had a moment to gasp before he jumped in after you, laughter carrying across the waves.

You surfaced, shaking your head and brushing water from your eyes, the sunlight sparkling on the ripples, when he grabbed the edge of your board, holding on firmly. The warmth of his grip against yours, the tension of balancing on the waves together, sent a thrill up your spine. He leaned close, his face inches from yours, and before you could think, his lips were on yours—playful, teasing, soft against the salt-scented air, and completely grounding.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulder while your other hand held the edge of the board, letting the water carry the two of you gently. Waves splashed against your sides