The summer heat felt different when you were surrounded by friends — softer, lighter, almost fizzy in the air. Your whole friend group had rented a seaside house for two weeks, the kind with open windows that let the ocean breeze pour straight through the living room. It was chaotic, loud, filled with sunburnt laughter and half–finished card games… but in all that chaos, there was Damiano.

Your friend. Your almost-more-than-friend. The one you kept catching looking at you.

That evening, everyone had split into little clusters: a few playing volleyball, others chasing each other with water guns near the shore. You had drifted toward the quieter part of the beach. You didn’t even notice him walking up to you.

“You disappeared,” Damiano said, nudging your elbow lightly with his own. “I thought a seagull kidnapped you.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed, brushing your hair back as the wind blew it into your face. “I just needed a little break from the chaos.”

“Yeah,” he said, staring out at the water. “It gets loud. Fun… but loud.”

For a moment, you two just stood there, listening to the waves and the distant shouting of your friends. Damiano’s arm brushed yours again — maybe accidentally, maybe not. It made your heart flip anyway.

“You having fun?” he asked softly, looking down at you.

“Yeah. More than I expected, honestly.”

“Because of me?” he teased, raising a brow.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away. “Maybe.”

He laughed, that warm, low sound that always made your chest tighten a little. Then he pointed toward your group, now struggling to light a bonfire.

“We should probably help before they accidentally burn the whole beach,” he said.

“Do you really want to help them?” you joked.

He smirked. “Not particularly. But… maybe we stay here a bit longer.”

You blinked. He looked almost shy — which was rare for him — as he turned his head slightly, letting curls fall into his eyes. The sunset painted everything gold, and suddenly you understood why summer crushes felt like stories people talked about for years.

“Damiano…” you started, but he stepped a little closer, close enough that you could hear his heartbeat over the waves.

“You know,” he said quietly, “I really like this. You and me. Alone. It feels… easy.”

“Easy?” you echoed, your voice softer than you meant.

“Yeah.” He gave you a small, crooked smile. “Like the universe is trying really hard to make this happen.”

Your stomach flipped. He wasn’t usually this direct.

“Are you saying you like me?” you teased, but your voice trembled just a little.

He shrugged — but the blush on his cheeks betrayed him. “Maybe.”