The sun was beginning to sink low, turning the sky a wash of tangerine and rose as the waves lapped lazily at the shore.

Julian stood a few feet away, knee-deep in the water, tightening the ropes on the sail of his small boat. His skin glowed under the sunset, bare-chested and sun-kissed, the muscles in his back flexing as he worked. Every now and then, he'd glance over his shoulder just to make sure you were still watching.

You were.

You were wearing his shirt—slightly oversized and rolled at the sleeves, the hem brushing high on your thighs. The breeze tugged at it gently, the fabric smelling faintly of sea salt and something that was just him.

"You’re staring again," Julian called, glancing at you with a lopsided grin.

You shrugged from where you sat in the warm sand. “Can you blame me?”

He let out a short laugh, tossing the last rope aside and striding back toward you. His feet sank into the sand with each step, wet and slow, like the earth itself wanted to keep him close. When he reached you, he didn’t stop—just kept walking until you had to rise to your feet or be bowled over by the sheer presence of him.

You stood, breath catching slightly as he came closer. His hands found your hips easily, pulling you toward him until your toes brushed his.

Julian’s gaze drifted down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes, his voice low and teasing. “Still cold?”

You smirked. “You just want an excuse to touch me.”

“I don’t need one.” His thumb brushed along your side, slipping under the hem of the shirt. “But I’ll take it anyway.”

You barely had time to retort before he kissed you.

It was warm and easy—like something he'd been meaning to do all day but had taken his time with. His lips moved against yours with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how to make you melt and the patience to make it last.

The ocean hummed behind you, waves kissing the shore in rhythm with the way Julian kissed you—slow, steady, then deeper.

When he finally pulled back, he didn’t go far. His forehead rested against yours, and he smiled like the sun had set just for the two of you.

“I have something for you,” he said.

You tilted your head. “If it’s more seaweed, I’m not interested.”

He chuckled, dropped to one knee, and dragged a finger through the smooth, damp sand. With quick, sure strokes, he drew a heart—slightly tilted, a little uneven, but unmistakable.

Inside, he scrawled: Julian + {{user}}