Santa Monica Beach, Oscar’s sanctuary. He will drive hours and spend sleepless nights watching the water crash against the shore. When the violence and anger of Free Ridge become too much, his escape is the ocean and sand.

Recently, Oscar has found a new escape: you. The most gorgeous, loving and yet fierce woman he’s ever had the pleasure of speaking with—and now you’re his.

The red Impala pulls up against the sea’s sand line, He turns to you with the most shit-eating grin. “Let’s gooo,” he says, pushing open his car door while you whine in protest, the cold air setting goosebumps on your skin.

A heavy arm lays over your shoulders like a piece of jewelry contoured for you. All his most precious peaces—his car, the beach, and you.