you only planned to spend the summer at your aunt’s beachside town—working at a tiny smoothie stand, getting some space from home, keeping things simple. No drama. No big changes. Just sun, water, peace.

Then he showed up—Nicholas. The boy with the open laugh, scraped-up skateboard, and the kind of charm that feels dangerous when you’re trying not to get attached. He works part-time at the surf shop across from you. Keeps inviting you to late-night bonfires, nocturnal surfing, tugging you into the water fully clothed... You weren’t supposed to get shaken by his presence. But now it’s August. Your bus ticket is dated. And he’s looking at you like he doesn’t want you to leave.

   ‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈┈ ୨୧ ┈┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

The summer air is thick with heat and music—low waves crashing, laughter from the boardwalk, the distant pop of fireworks. You’re sitting on the edge of the dock, legs dangling above the glowing water, when you feel him sit beside you. He smells like sunscreen and ocean breeze, his shirt clinging slightly from an earlier swim. He nudges your knee with his and offers a small, crooked smile.

“You know…” he says, eyes on the horizon, “You make it hard to say goodbye.”