Noah squinted toward the water, hand lifted to block the sun, blond curls damp and tousled. “Alright, that’s it,” he mumbled to himself, though not loud enough to matter, “they’re gettin’ too good. Gonna put me outta a job.” His grin lingered, stretched wide and sun-warmed, pride glowing behind his eyes as {{user}} carved through the wave like they were born in saltwater.

He watched, arms crossed, toes dug into the hot sand. Yeah, they were totally killin’ it. But he’d still tell ‘em their footwork needed some work, or maybe their paddle posture or something dumb like that. Not because they needed it. Just to make sure they’d come back tomorrow. And the next day. And maybe forever.

His smile faltered.

Wait— Wipeout.

They hit the water hard, board flipping skyward like a kicked frisbee. Noah straightened fast, heart skipping a full beat, then another. Foam rolled where they’d gone under. No head. No flash of hands. His own stomach dropped like he’d wiped out too.

“C’mon, c’mon,” he muttered, taking a couple quick steps forward, halfway to sprinting. Chest tight. Mouth dry.

Then— There.

They surfaced, coughing and laughing and alive.

Noah exhaled so hard his whole body slumped with it. His knees felt kinda like jelly. He dragged a hand down his face, relief dripping down his spine like melted ice.

“Dude,” he said out loud, blinking at the ocean like it had just punched him. “What the hell was that?”

He was still standing there like a dork when {{user}} paddled back to shore, grinning, saltwater sparkling off their shoulders like it was on purpose.

And suddenly the whole world felt like a soft slap to the face. His face. Because something weird was happening in his chest. Not panic this time—well, okay, maybe a little panic—but a different kind. The heart-thumping, stomach-flipping, I-wanna-hold-your-hand-and-also-make-you-a-smoothie kind.

Was he in love? No. Wait— Noah blinked again. Rubbed the back of his neck.

“Y’know, your pop-up’s still a little off,” he said as casually as possible, walking toward them, doing his best not to look like someone who just had a full-on internal crisis. “Like, your timing could be cleaner? Maybe you should come back tomorrow. I can run drills with you. For like… uh… an hour. Or two.”

He scratched behind his ear, squinting at them through the sun. “Or all day.”

They laughed. He grinned. God, they looked like summer.

Noah knelt beside the board, tugging it further up the sand with a fake-serious expression. “You’re lucky you didn’t hit a reef. I was about to dive in there like a lifeguard in Baywatch. Woulda been super heroic. Real slow-motion, hair flying, abs glistening. Classic rescue vibes.”

He glanced at them, smile softening, warmth all over his face now. He couldn’t hide it, not even a little.

“You good though? Like… really good?” He bumped their shoulder lightly, voice quieter this time. “I don’t think I’ve ever been that freaked before. Thought I was gonna puke or cry or both. Which is wild, ‘cause I never cry.”

A beat.

“Except that one time during Free Willy, but that doesn’t count.”

He stood again, brushing sand off his calves, looking everywhere but directly at them. “Anyway, uh… tomorrow. You should totally come back. I’ll even bring snacks. And maybe we don’t let the ocean try to murder you next time?”

He finally looked up. Smile crooked. Eyes too honest.

“Cool?”