You notice him immediately.

The new lifeguard stands out—not because he’s bad, but because he wants to be noticed. He’s loud, confident, and moves like the beach already belongs to him.

You glance over at Brody.

His jaw tightens.

“So that’s him?” you ask quietly.

Brody shrugs, eyes fixed on the water. “Yeah. New transfer.”

“He seems… intense.”

Brody lets out a short breath. “He keeps challenging my calls. My drills. My rescues.”

You frown. “That’s not okay.”

Brody doesn’t respond right away. He just grips his rescue board a little tighter.

“I’m supposed to be the lead here,” he says finally. “But if he proves himself better…”

He trails off.

You step closer. “You’ve saved more lives than anyone here.”

“That doesn’t always matter,” he mutters.

The rival lifeguard—Jake—approaches later that day.

“Hey,” Jake says, smirking. “Heard we’re doing time trials tomorrow.”

Brody nods. “Yeah.”

Jake’s eyes flick to you, then back to Brody. “Hope you’re ready.”

Brody doesn’t rise to it.

But when Jake walks away, Brody exhales sharply.

You touch his arm. “You don’t have to prove anything.”

Brody looks at you, conflicted. “Maybe not. But I will.”

The next morning, the beach is tense.

The competition is brutal—long swims, heavy waves, high pressure.

Brody pushes himself hard. Harder than usual.

You watch from the shore, heart in your throat.

When it’s over, Brody stumbles slightly as he walks back.

You rush to him. “Hey—are you okay?”

He nods, breathing heavy. “I’m fine.”

But his eyes search yours.

“You did amazing,” you say firmly. “No matter what happens.”

The head lifeguard announces the results.

Brody wins.

Barely.

The team cheers, but Brody barely reacts. He just looks at you.