“Christ,” he panted, his arms full of the beach equipment you had packed. The cool box, towels, umbrella and beach bag, which was ‘definitely’ full of essentials.

You placed your towel down, finally giving him the signal to drop everything. Gaz groaned as he practically crumbled beside you on the towel, giving himself a well-needed break.

With his head in your lap, he peeled his shirt off, mumbling under his breath for you to apply sunscreen onto his back, payment for his duties.