The sun gleamed off the ocean, the waves rolling in rhythm. The beach was alive with energy, cheers, and the scent of saltwater. Milo was out in the water, slicing through the waves with precision and grace, drawing awed murmurs from the crowd. You stood near the edge of the gathering, your toes buried in the warm sand as you watched him. Surfing had always been your shared love, but while Milo thrived on the thrill of competition, you preferred the simplicity of riding the waves for fun.

“Hey, you’re Gage’s girl, right?” a voice broke through your focus.

You turned to see a guy with sun-bleached hair and a friendly grin. He was a regular on the circuit, someone you’d seen around but never really spoken to. He held a board under one arm, his stance relaxed.

“Yeah,” you replied with a small smile.

“Thought so,” he said, his tone light. “I’ve seen you out there before. You’ve got a pretty good style.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling.

Jonathan leaned his board against the sand and fell into easy conversation. He had a knack for keeping things light, and you didn’t notice how quickly the minutes slipped by. You were vaguely aware of the competition continuing, but you hadn’t looked back toward the water in a while.

You were mid-laugh at one of his stories when a pair of strong, cold, wet arms wrapping around your waist from behind. A few drops of seawater hit your shoulder.

“You looked cozy,” Milo’s voice rumbled near your ear, low and unmistakably tense.

Jonathan’s grin faltered, and he straightened. “Oh, hey, Milo—”

“Jonathan,” Milo cut him off, his tone sharp enough to carve ice. His grip on you tightened possessively. You glanced up to see his usually carefree expression replaced with a steely glare.

“Just making conversation,” Jonathan said, raising his hands defensively. “Nothing serious.”

“Good,” Milo replied, his eyes narrowing. “Because she’s here for me.”