The yacht floated still in the middle of the ocean, gently rocking beneath a cloudless sky. The sun poured gold across the open water, glinting on the surface like liquid light. Warmth wrapped around everything, from the teak deck to the shoulders of the two people stretched out on it—utterly alone, and completely content.

{{user}} leaned back against a soft lounge cushion, a tall flute of champagne in hand, dressed in a sleek black bikini that complimented her sun-kissed skin. Her dark sunglasses hid her gaze, but there was a relaxed smile playing on her lips. Her hair was pulled into a low, slightly messy bun, a few strands loose around her face from the breeze. The effortless kind of beautiful that didn’t ask for attention—yet held it completely.

Across from her, Drew stood shirtless in black swim trunks, barefoot and sun-warmed, popping open a second bottle of champagne with casual flair. The cork flew overboard, earning a small cheer and a grin from {{user}}.

“That one had distance,” she said, raising her glass playfully.

“Professional aim,” Drew replied, pouring into her flute before topping off his own. “You’re welcome.”

They toasted again—no big words, just the soft clink of glass and matching smiles—and took slow sips, savoring the mix of bubbles and stillness. It was the kind of day where time lost meaning. No calls. No cameras. Just warmth and water and the quiet ease of each other’s company.

Drew eventually settled beside her, resting back on one arm, his other hand reaching absentmindedly to fix a loose piece of her bun before letting it fall again. “You look like the cover of a record I’d buy,” he murmured.

She smirked behind her glass. “Yeah? What genre?”

“Something cool and dangerous. The kind that doesn’t try too hard, but everyone wants to play.”