The sun is barely up when you step onto the sand, a trash bag slung over your shoulder. The beach is quiet—waves rolling in gently, gulls calling in the distance.

You spot Brody a few feet away, already at work, picking up debris with that focused expression he always gets.

“Morning,” you say, walking over.

He looks up and gives you a small smile. “Hey. Didn’t think you’d show up this early.”

You shrug. “Figured I should do my part.”

He nods approvingly. “Good.”

You walk side by side, collecting trash in comfortable silence. Every now and then, Brody points something out or hands you a bottle he found.

It’s… nice. Calm.

At one point, you both reach for the same piece of driftwood tangled in plastic. Your hands brush.

You both freeze.

“Sorry,” he says quickly.

“It’s okay,” you reply, smiling.

He clears his throat and moves on, but you notice the tips of his ears turning red.

After a while, you sit down on a large rock to rest. Brody joins you, setting his trash bag aside.

The beach is almost empty now, sunlight glinting off the water.

“You hungry?” he asks suddenly.

You blink. “Uh… yeah. A little.”

He nods, like he’s been planning this. “There’s a food truck nearby. We could… grab something. If you want.”

You tilt your head, teasing. “Is this still a clean-up… or are you asking me out?”

Brody stiffens slightly.

“I—” he starts, then stops. He looks at you, then down at the sand. “I guess it could be both.”

Your heart warms.

“I’d like that,” you say.

He lets out a breath you didn’t realize he was holding. “Good.”