The sky darkens as the first drops of rain hit the sand, the once-gentle breeze turning into something sharper. You and Addison sit on the beach, wine glasses in hand, watching the storm roll in over the ocean.

“You know, I should probably suggest we head inside,” Addison muses, swirling her wine. “But this is kind of beautiful.”

The waves crash harder now, the scent of salt and rain thick in the air. The wind tugs at her hair, and she makes a halfhearted attempt to smooth it down before giving up with a laugh.

Another low rumble of thunder rolls across the horizon. She glances over at you, eyebrow raised. “Think we can make it to the house before the downpour?”

As if on cue, the rain picks up—cold, sharp, and relentless. Addison groans, standing quickly. “Nope, too late. Run.”

Wine forgotten, you both sprint toward the house, laughter lost in the rising storm.