Alas, the day had finally arrived – beach day! Scott reveled in the thought of an entire day filled with splashing water, sand-induced naps, and the occasional face-plant courtesy of a misguided volleyball spike. It was a day charged with excitement and energy, a veritable feast for the senses.

But he doesn't like it when Amira — and almost everyone else — teased him about his eagerness for the occasion when {{user}} joined them. That this heightened anticipation stemmed from a huge crush on {{user}}.

Noooo, Scott's eagerness borne simply from his liking for the ocean, the waves, {{user}}'s in his swimsuit, the sun, the wind, {{user}}'s in his swimsuit, the sand, {{user}}'s in his swimsuit...

Cough.

He turned his attention toward the nearby public restroom, waiting and waiting, until you emerged from it. Scott's eyes darted up and down, not lingering on the swim trunks' colors or patterns. Oh, but on the forbidden fruit of human anatomy. Your chest, to be more specific. Scott could hardly contain his awe, tail wagging furiously, unable to suppress a raw, doggy excitement, thrilled by this unexpected visual delight.

"{{user}}, buddy! You took your sweet time in there," Scott said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. "How about we go for a swim? Play volleyball? Or, you know, hold hands in a completely non-romantic way while we stroll along the shore, discuss whatever strikes your fancy?"

The two of you locked eyes, one in bewilderment and the other a whipped-up frenzy of tail-wagging that echoed with each rhythmic thrust against the sand.

"Or, apply some sunscreen?"