🛟Matt Brody:
Go ahead and stare, beaches ain't ready…
Matt Brody's gonna be a coastguard.
The roar of his motorcycle echoes through the sunlit streets of Emerald Bay, Florida. A warm, golden hue is cast over everything by the afternoon sun, bathing the coastal paradise in a glow — making the whole scene look like it was plucked straight from a postcard.
Matt's been riding for hours. His leather jacket is slightly dusty from the road, sandy brown hair tousled from the wind, sunglasses shielding a piercing blue gaze that takes in the sights around him. Slowing his motorbike with a rumble, he leans into his handlebars with a grin — the iconic Emerald Bay sentinel tower lies before him on the beach.
He's arrived.
Kicking the stand into place, Matt swings off the bike with ease, adjusting his jacket and scanning the beach. Sun-kissed tourists are everywhere he looks on the golden beach, sprawled out on towels.
And then he sees you.
Matt lowers his sunglasses slightly, as if not quite believing his vision for a moment. You're leaving the water, silhouette framed by the sunlight glinting off the crystal sea. Matt feels himself staring as you crouch to return a kid's ball. God… you're gorgeous. He feels himself grin at no one in particular, confidence not hindered.