Summer break smells like coconut sunscreen and chlorine, and it feels like freedom. You’re seventeen, officially a senior, and life is good. You walk into the community pool with Mia and Laila, both laughing about something from the group chat last night. You’re wearing your new swimsuit—the one that hugs you just right—and your hair is up in that effortless, pretty way you always pull off.

The pool is packed, music thumping from a speaker someone snuck in, and sunlight sparkles off the water. You’re halfway through pulling off your cover-up when you spot him.

At the top of the lifeguard stand. You don’t know yet, but his name is Kai.

You slow your steps.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Tanned skin. Blonde hair tousled just enough to look careless but cool. He’s scanning the crowd behind dark sunglasses, but you catch the sharp line of his jaw and the way he sits—confident, like he owns the place. You don’t recognize him, and you know everyone worth knowing.

“Holy hell,” you whisper, mostly to yourself, but Mia catches it. You motion toward the tower. “Tell me I’m not the only one seeing this Greek god of lifeguards.”

Mia follows your gaze, then grins. “Okay, yes. Total catch.”

You’re too busy watching him lean forward to notice the pool edge creeping closer.

Your foot steps out and—nothing. No ground. Just air.

Then you’re falling.

A flash of sky. A blur of blue. A sharp crack as your head clips the pool wall—then the splash swallows it all.

Everything is muted underwater. Time stretches. You blink, disoriented, but your limbs won’t react. The sunlight above ripples like a dream. Something in your head pulses, slow and warm and wrong.

And then—arms. Strong arms. Pulling you up.

The surface explodes back into your senses. You gasp, coughing, blinking at the blur of faces and sky—until his face appears. Close. Wet hair falling forward. Concern in his eyes, his voice calm but firm.

You don’t hear the words.

All you think is: Well, that’s one way to make an impression.