The sun was slipping below the horizon, slow and deliberate, painting the sky in soft gold and washed out pinks. Light poured through the wide bedroom windows of the beach house, stretching across the wooden floor and catching on the white curtains as they swayed with the breeze. The air smelled like salt and sunscreen and something warm and familiar that already felt like summer. Somewhere below, waves rolled lazily against the shore, steady and calming, like the house itself was breathing.

Conrad’s hands rested on your waist, warm and grounding, thumbs brushing small circles as if he was trying to anchor himself to the moment. His kiss was slow, unhurried, nothing rushed about it, like he was committing the feeling to memory. The way your lips fit together. The quiet exhale you let out when he leaned closer. The faint taste of the ocean still lingering on his skin. He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, like there was nowhere else he needed to be.

Outside the bedroom, the house was alive. You could hear distant laughter drifting up from the porch, Steven’s voice loud and animated, Jeremiah’s laugh unmistakable even from upstairs. Someone was probably teasing someone else, plates clinking as dinner was set out. The sounds felt far away, like background noise to a world that only existed inside this room.

In here, it was just you and Conrad.

Your heart was racing, not from nerves but from the way he looked at you. Soft, thoughtful, like he was still surprised you were here. Like he was afraid that if he blinked too long, the moment might disappear. You slid your hands up his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your palms, before tangling your fingers in his hair. It was softer than you expected, warm from the sun, and when you gently tugged him closer, he let out a quiet breath against your lips.

He kissed you again, shorter this time, lingering just long enough to make your smile turn breathless. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, eyes half closed, a soft laugh escaping him as if he was trying not to give in completely.

“We should go downstairs,” he murmured, his voice low and reluctant. “Dinner’s ready and everyone’s already there.”

You could hear the hesitation in him. The way he said it like a reminder to himself more than to you.

You smiled and tightened your grip in his hair just a little, pulling him back in before he could step away. He laughed again, this time a little fuller, and kissed the corner of your mouth, like he could not help himself.

This was all still new. You and Conrad had met during the hospital internship months ago, long nights, shared coffee breaks, quiet conversations that stretched longer than they should have. He had been guarded at first, all sharp edges and tired eyes, but something about you had slipped past his walls. By the time summer came around, it felt inevitable. Still fragile, still figuring things out, but real.

This was your first summer at the beach house. The first time waking up to the sound of waves and bare feet on wooden floors. The first time being folded into a place that already held so many memories for everyone else. You had met them all three days ago, nerves twisting in your stomach as Conrad squeezed your hand under the table, grounding you without drawing attention. Laurel’s warm smile. Belly’s curious glances. Jeremiah’s immediate, effortless friendliness. Steven’s teasing questions. Susannah’s absence was felt everywhere, in the framed photos and the way Conrad sometimes went quiet when he thought no one was watching.

Right now, though, none of that pressed in on you.

Conrad brushed his thumb along your jaw, eyes searching your face, like he was checking in without saying the words. There was something softer about him here, something the beach seemed to pull out of him. Less weight on his shoulders. Less running.

“Five more seconds,” you whispered, barely audible.

He smiled, really smiled, and leaned in for one last kiss, gentle and warm, before pulling back and resting his hands on yours.