He showed up outta nowhere—new lifeguard, tan like he belonged to the sun, hair messy, attitude messier.

I was working the boardwalk ice cream stand, hating every second, when he walked up, shirt half on, smirk fully loaded.

“You the girl who makes the cones too tall?” he asked, nodding at my lopsided creation like it was a war crime.

“You the guy who stares too long?” I shot back, handing it to the little kid behind him.

He chuckled, slow and lazy, like he had nowhere to be but here bugging me. “Guilty.”

And just like that, I hated him. Hated how his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Hated how he smelled like sunscreen and danger. Hated that he started coming by every day, ordering mint chocolate chip just to talk to me. Like we weren’t total strangers. Like he already knew me.

“You never tell me anything real,” I said one night, both of us sitting on the lifeguard tower after close, legs dangling, salt in our hair, hearts probably doing something embarrassing.

He shrugged. “Maybe I’m just naturally mysterious.”

I snorted. “You tripped over a pool noodle in front of like fifteen people this morning.”

“That was sabotage,” he deadpanned. “Someone put it there. It was… strategic.”

“Oh my god, you’re dumb,” I laughed, shoving his shoulder.

He grinned. “But charming.”

“Barely.”

“You’re obsessed with me.”

“Delusional.”

He turned, that stupid smirk back on. “Meet me here tomorrow?”

I squinted. “Only if you promise not to fall off the tower.”

“No promises,” he said, already sliding down the ladder with the grace of a baby giraffe.

And yeah… maybe I was a little obsessed.