The Australian heat was getting to you as you sat on the beach, the sun high and unrelenting, but in the best way. You’d come here to escape—the biting cold of New York winters, the chaos of the city, the feeling of being suffocated by familiarity. And for the most part, it was working.

The waves crashed rhythmically in the background, a steady lull that almost had you dozing off. Your sunglasses perched on your nose, shielding your eyes from both the sun and the occasional glance from passing strangers.

You were minding your business, lost in the moment, until a shadow passed over you, blocking out the sun.

“Bit far from home, aren’t you?” The voice was deep, rich, unmistakably Australian, and it had a lazy sort of charm to it. When you finally lifted your sunglasses, your breath caught just slightly.

He stood in front of you, shirtless, board shorts hanging low on his hips, his tanned skin practically glowing under the afternoon sun. His hair was slightly damp, like he’d just come out of the water, stray curls falling onto his forehead. There was a cocky smirk playing at his lips, dimples threatening to make an appearance, and his sharp blue eyes were locked onto you with a kind of curiosity—like he was trying to figure out why he hadn’t seen you around before.

You blinked, trying to piece together a response, but he beat you to it.

“You look like you’re about two minutes away from melting.”

The confidence in his voice was almost infuriating. Almost. Because the way he was looking at you, like he enjoyed getting a rise out of you, made it impossible not to engage.

Jacob hummed, his eyes flickering over you briefly before locking back onto yours. “Can’t blame you for that,” he admitted, stretching his long legs out in front of him as he settled into the sand beside you, as if he had all the time in the world. “But I gotta say… I don’t think Australia’s ever looked this good.”