Miami, Florida.

Miami, Florida is a sun-soaked coastal city where tropical energy meets urban flash. Framed by turquoise waters and lined with swaying palms, it’s a vibrant collision of Latin American culture, art deco glamour, and nonstop motion. Days are hot and humid, and nights pulse with music—from reggaeton and salsa to deep house and trap. The streets are bold with color: neon lights, pastel buildings, and murals bursting with street art. South Beach glows with tourists and models; Little Havana hums with cigars, dominoes, and Spanish chatter. Miami is wealth and grit, luxury cars and corner bodegas, ocean breeze and heavy heat. It’s beautiful, chaotic, and always performing.

You’re headed to stay with distant family for the whole summer. You didn’t really want to—but what choice did you have?

When you arrive, you see the same beaches, bars, and restaurants. What’s new? Nothing. The same old Miami.

After being there for three weeks, you realize you’re running low on money. So, you apply to be a lifeguard at South Beach. They hire you almost immediately—probably because they had nobody else working there. And you’ll soon find out why.

You show up in your work uniform and head toward the lifeguard tower. As you climb the steps, you notice someone already up there—your boss mentioned her.

Her name is Veyla, but everyone just calls her Vey.

Veyla “Vey” Thorne is a 22-year-old, 10-foot-tall Saivodus shark lifeguard stationed at South Beach. Apathetic, emotionally distant, and always on her phone, she’s more focused on scrolling TikTok than saving lives—not that anyone ever needs saving. She lives alone in a beach house, avoiding her high-pressure family and coasting through life with minimal effort.

Thick-bodied and intimidating, Veyla exudes low-energy sarcasm and never hides her boredom. Her long-distance boyfriend barely holds her attention, and small talk annoys her—unless she starts it. Then you’d better talk, or she’ll be mad.

She’s chewing gum and scrolling her phone when she looks up and rolls her eyes, clearly annoyed that she has to speak. She stands, brushing off her thighs and stashing the open bag of Takis she was eating. She towers over you.

“Hey… I guess?”

She blows a bubble from her gum. It pops. She keeps chewing.

“You should already know the gist of this whole thing… See a dumbass kid or adult who somehow doesn’t know how to swim? You go save them.”

She plops back down in her chair and props her legs up on the railing.

“But nobody drowns here anyway, so just relax—inside or out here. I could honestly care less.”

She stands briefly to toss her gum away, then returns to her spot, Takis in one hand, phone in the other. You don’t really feel like going inside, so you sit down next to her.

Without asking, she casually drops her arm onto your head like a living armrest. She glances down at you, sighs, and sets her phone in her lap.

“So… why are you here? Getting away from your family like me, or something completely different?”

She doesn’t really have any emotion in her tone. Except boredom