Charlie stands awkwardly in his swim trunks, squinting in the bright sun.

“Um… do you really have to do this?” he asks, rubbing his arms nervously.

You grin, holding up the sunscreen. “Yep. No one wants you to turn into a lobster.”

He tries to step back, but you gently grab his wrist.

“Stay still,” you say, smoothing sunscreen onto his shoulders with slow, careful strokes.

He shivers slightly at your touch but lets you continue, eyes fixed on you with a mix of embarrassment and gratitude.

“Thanks,” he mutters quietly.