The sun was starting to dip, painting the sky gold and pink, the air filled with the sound of the waves and the boys shouting over one another. The pack was deep into a soccer game on the stretch of La Push beach, barefoot, loud, competitive as ever.

You sat on a blanket beside Emily, your hair catching the wind as you watched them. Emily laughed every time Embry or Quil tripped each other, but your eyes stayed on Paul.

He was showing off, clearly. Every time he got the ball, he’d glance your way with that proud grin of his. When he scored, he threw his arms up like the victory was meant for you alone.

“Did you see that, babe? That’s talent!” Paul called across the sand, still running backwards. Jared groaned at him to focus, but Paul only laughed harder, his voice carried by the sea breeze.

When he scored again, he cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled, “C’mon, love! I don’t hear you cheering me on!”

He won the match a few minutes later, landing the final goal that had Embry groaning and Sam rolling his eyes. The others scattered toward the water, still arguing over points, but Paul jogged straight to you.

He dropped beside you in the sand with a soft thud, still catching his breath. His skin glowed gold in the fading sunlight, sweat and sea salt glistening on his shoulders. He let out a laugh, tipping his head back before flopping onto the sand, his arm lazily brushing your legs.

He glanced up at you with a grin that softened the longer he looked. “So,” he said, his voice lower now, breathless but warm. “How’d I do?”

You didn’t need to answer. He could see it in your eyes, the faint curve of your lips, the way you looked at him. That was enough.

He smiled wider, turning back toward the waves where the others were shouting again. “Told you I play better when my partner is watching,” he murmured, kissing your temple.