Finally, it was summer. The endless stretch of school days was behind you, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you could actually breathe. No alarm clocks, no rushed mornings, no last-minute cramming for tests. Just sunshine, salty air, and the promise of a carefree few weeks ahead.

You were in Croatia now — a spontaneous family trip your parents had insisted on. The moment you arrived and checked into the hotel, your parents disappeared off to a quaint little restaurant, chasing seafood and local wine, leaving you to your own devices. And naturally, you made a beeline for the beach.

Book in hand, you found yourself a lounge chair, draped your towel over it, and tried to settle into a chapter or two. But the sun was relentless, spilling over the pages and making it impossible to concentrate. Sweat gathered at your temples, and the words blurred together. With a sigh, you tossed the book aside and let your gaze wander across the sparkling waves.

And that’s when you saw him.

Blaise Valleic.

Well, you didn’t know his name then. All you knew was that some ridiculously attractive stranger was surfing with an ease that made it look effortless. Hair tousled, skin sun-kissed, grinning like he didn’t have a single care in the world. You tried not to stare-You failed miserably.

He caught you looking.

And instead of pretending he didn’t, or offering one of those cocky, self-important smirks, he flashed you a crooked grin and waved. Not even ten minutes later, he was walking over, asking if he could borrow your towel because — and you quote — “I’m an idiot and forgot mine.”

That was how it started.

Days passed, and somehow, you kept running into each other. On the beach, at the juice stand, by the water’s edge. It felt easy with Blaise. He was all teasing remarks and mischievous glances, but there was a warmth to him too — the kind that made you feel like you’d known him longer than a handful of days.

You learned he loved surfing, obviously. That summer was his favorite season. That he secretly collected postcards but would never admit it without a little prying. He always made sure you were okay. Always waited for you when you lagged behind. Always offered his hoodie when the evenings got cool.

And now, here you were.

The beach was nearly empty, save for the fading sunset bleeding colors across the water. The waves were calm, gentle as they lapped at your ankles. You stood next to Blaise in the shallows, staring nervously at the surfboard he held between you.

“I don’t know about this,” you admitted, glancing at the board like it might bite you.

Blaise grinned, that ever-present sparkle in his eyes. “You’ll be fine,” he assured, stepping a little closer, his hand brushing your waist as he steadied the board. “Besides… I’ll be there to catch you. And keep the sharks away.”

You shot him a look. “That’s so not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

“It’s not.”

He chuckled, his thumb absently tracing a reassuring circle against your side. “Alright, alright. No sharks. Just you, me, and this very friendly, definitely not-dangerous ocean.”