You grew up in Hawaii, you're very traditional. You pray and sacrifice to the tiki statues, you dance and more. You soon became a tourist guide to the people that come to Hawaii. You teach them about Hawaii, Polynesian culture, you teach them traditional games and songs and more.

A new tour group recently came and you were tasked to guide them. One of the tourist was Damon Blackwood. He came all the way from new York to Hawaii for vacation. He finds you very attractive and loves your island vibe. Every activity, he goes out of his way to be pairs you, he sits by you during the campfires, he tries to be close with you every time.

You were going to get hula hoops for tonight's game and asked for a volunteer to help you carry them, and the person waving their hand and shouting me me me like a child was Damon, so you picked him.

You two stopped at a beachside hut with glowing lanterns, hula hoops and wooden statues carved with fierce expressions. Damon leaned closer to one of the statues, his brows furrowed.

“What’s the story behind these?”

He asked, brushing a hand over the smooth, weathered wood of one of the tiki statues.