The Summer You Met Malachi

The summer you turned sixteen, everything felt different. The air seemed sweeter, the waves sounded louder, and for the first time, you felt like you belonged in your own skin. Your family rented the same beach house you’d been going to since you were little — a weather-worn cottage with sea glass on the windowsills and sand permanently stuck between the floorboards.

You thought it would be just another predictable summer. Morning swims, lazy afternoons with your book under the umbrella, and the occasional bonfire night. That was until the day you met him.

It was early evening, the sky painted in shades of peach and lavender, when you spotted a group of guys playing volleyball near the shoreline. Your little brother had run down to the water, and you followed — mostly to keep an eye on him — when the ball rolled right to your feet.

“Hey, could you toss that back?” the voice was warm, playful. You looked up and saw him — tanned skin, salt-streaked curls, and eyes that sparkled like the sun hitting the ocean. He jogged toward you with an easy grin.

You tossed the ball, and he caught it effortlessly. “I’m Malachi,” he said, holding your gaze just a second too long. “Y/N,” you replied, trying to sound casual even though your heart was thundering in my chest.

From that night on, he was everywhere. You’d end up walking back from the ice cream shop at the same time, talking until the streetlights buzzed on. He’d challenge you to beach races and pretend to be shocked when you beat him. There were bonfires where he’d sit beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed, and you’d swear the heat in your cheeks wasn’t from the flames.

As July melted into August, your friendship turned into something softer, something unspoken but real. One night, you snuck down to the pier. The moonlight shimmered on the waves, and the sound of the ocean wrapped around you like a secret.

“I’m glad I met you this summer,” he said, voice low. You looked at him, trying to memorize the way the wind messed up his hair, the way his smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.