The boat sliced through the shimmering waves, its motor humming beneath the wind-swept air. Sunlight reflected off the water, painting golden streaks across the surface, and laughter echoed from the other side of the boat where the rest of your friends were gathered. You sat on one of the long benches with Martino beside you, his ex, Daniela, pressed up against him on the other side. She had been inching closer all afternoon, her hand casually resting on his arm before she finally made her move.

As the boat picked up speed, you watched her fingers wrap around his arm and, without hesitation, pull it over her shoulders. Martino shifted, unsure, but didn’t move away. Your chest tightened, that familiar twist of frustration and something heavier—something almost sharp—gripped you. You weren’t sure if it was jealousy or the nagging sense that Martino wasn’t fully himself around Daniela. Either way, you couldn’t let it go any longer.

The wind whipped your hair as you leaned a little closer to him, your voice low. “Hey, Martino,” you said, just loud enough for him to hear. He turned his head toward you, the familiar warmth of his brown eyes meeting yours, confused but waiting for what you had to say.

Before you spoke again, your hand found his cheek, gently but deliberately turning his face away from Daniela. For a moment, everything seemed to slow—the wind, the boat, the laughter in the background. The world blurred at the edges, and the only thing that mattered was the feel of his skin under your fingers, and the soft intake of his breath as he looked at you, surprised.

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t rushed or frantic—just a kiss that felt like it had been waiting to happen, like a tide finally reaching the shore. His lips responded, tentative at first, but then warmer, more certain, as though he had been caught off guard but realized this was exactly where he wanted to be.