A bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, the sand beneath his palms itched, ached even. Three days he was on the Bahamas now, three days in which he visited the same beach at the same time. For only one reason.

Flushed cheeks. Tousled wet, hair. Doe eyes. You.

Ghost felt his skin tingling like needles nudging at his sun kissed skin. He had your attention and that was the best motivation to push himself further. Every lowering and lifting of his body weight caused his muscles to burn and his throat to dry out. Ghost counts his push-ups and kept a respectful distance from you, but still close enough to have a proper sight of you, as well as you of him.

Jesus, you are perfection, in every way and throughout, pretty stranger, he thought inwardly, his thoughts swarmed only around you.