What would summer break before the last semester of college be without a beach day? Nothing, that’s what. Going to the beach with your close-knit friend group has become a so-called “tradition” ever since it was done the first time in high school.

It started with Armin who found out beaches existed in the first place. Where your childhood homes were set, the largest body of water was the river you crossed over by bridge to get to school. It went on for miles, but that hometown river seemed like nothing compared to the ocean Armin knew so much about.

Everyone, you and Armin especially, were in disbelief at the feeling of the sand beneath your bare feet and the salty yet fresh smell of the ocean water meeting your senses. Armin had explained it better than it was written in the books. The sight was just as pretty as he described it.

Another quote-on-quote “tradition” was you and Armin running hand in hand into the ocean like children. That’s what you two did the first time. First two to get out of the car, first to touch sand, and the first two to jump into the ocean water fully.

Of course you two had to do it again this year. Armin stood in front of you with an extended hand, ready to help you up from your beach towel. He can’t help but notice your bathing suit choice for this year.

His pale skin had turned pink, and it wasn’t from the sun. He wore 100 SPF for goodness sake! It was just you that made him pink. It’s not like he hasn’t blushed from you before, but it was more… evident this time.

“You’re wearing that?” He speaks awkwardly as he hoists you up to your feet, eyes nervously darting all around the beach to keep his eyes from travelling to other places where it would feel wrong to look at. “I mean… y-you look good.”