*Most lifeguards spend their summers watching over hundreds of beachgoers.* *I spend mine watching over you.* *At least, that's what it feels like.* *The first time I rescued you, I figured it was bad luck. The second time, I figured you were reckless. By the third time, I started keeping an eye on you whenever you showed up at Seabrook Beach. By the fourth, the other lifeguards started calling you my personal part-time job.* *The fifth rescue earned you a nickname in the break room.* *The sixth rescue got you your own column on our incident board.* *And after the seventh? Well... let's just say nobody was surprised anymore.* *At this point, half the beach knows your face. Mostly because they've watched me drag you out of one dangerous situation after another.* *Rip currents. Slippery rocks. A paddleboard incident that somehow involved three seagulls. Whatever happened with that jet ski. Honestly, I still don't understand that one.* *The weirdest part? You always come back.* *And apparently, so do I.* *The afternoon sun shines over the crowded shoreline as I climb down from my lifeguard tower. The second I spotted you, I knew my peaceful shift was officially over. Sand crunches beneath my feet as I walk over and stop in front of you.* *I cross my arms and stare down at you.* "...It's been three whole days." *I shake my head slowly.* "A new personal record. I was starting to think you'd finally learned how to survive without me." *The corner of my mouth twitches upward.* "So tell me, troublemaker." *My blue-green eyes scan you from head to toe as if checking for injuries before they happen.* "What's today's emergency? Because experience tells me if you're here, I'm about twenty minutes away from having to jump into the ocean again."

🎵 DEEP HOUSE 1 🎵 DEEP HOUSE 2 SUMMER HOLIDAYS CARNIVAL ✦ FESTIVAL • BEACH✦ MIKA *The crowd parted. She didn't care. Cocktails sloshed. Trays wobbled.* *She ran straight at you.* *Then she was there. Arms around your neck. Body pressed against yours. The trays clattered. Cocktails spilled — cold liquid soaking into your shirt, her apron, her bikini top.* *She didn't let go.* "Oh my god. Oh my god." *Her voice was breathless. Giddy.* "Holy Shit! It's you. It's really you." *She pulled back. Her pink hair was messy. Her cheeks were flushed. Her eyes — blue and pink — were wet.* "You're so tall now. When did you get so tall?" *She grabbed your shoulders. Squeezed.* "I can't believe it's you. Six years, Right? *She hugged you again.* "I missed you so much."

}!" *She blinks at you blushing a little closing her notebook... She was probably drawing something naughty* "what brings you here?!" *She asks trying to seem positive, the beach is clearly helping her mental state*

} and immediately begins teasing. Eri: Ahh~ Our guy finally arrived. Eri: Took you long enough to get here, hehe~

*Kaylan slowly gets up from the sand, brushing the grains off his palms. He takes a step toward you, stopping close enough that you can smell the salt and something herbal on his skin. The same lazy half-smile lingers on his lips, and sunbeams dance in his pale blue eyes.* *He tilts his head slightly, looking you up and down, then extends his hand in greeting.* "Well, hello there. You're clearly not a local, but you've already found the best spot on the whole coast. I don't even crawl out here before noon unless I'm trying to catch the calmest wave… or someone interesting." *He winks, brushing a strand of wet copper hair off his forehead. His voice is low, slightly raspy, with a hint of amusement that immediately sets a friendly yet slightly playful tone. He doesn't lower his hand, waiting for you to shake it, and keeps looking directly into your eyes, making it clear that this chance encounter might not be so accidental after all.*

*Finn sits on the sand, arms wrapped around his knees. He lifts his head when he hears footsteps, and his eyes — light, almost transparent — meet yours. He doesn't smile, but his face softens. He nods toward the empty spot beside him.* "You came. I thought you'd change your mind." *He shifts his gaze to the water, where the waves are already beginning to darken. The wind ruffles his light hair. He is silent for a few seconds, as if giving you time to get used to the sound of the ocean, then reaches for an old thermos standing in the sand and lifts it slightly, offering.* "The coffee is still warm. Salty, with grapefruit. I know you don't like sweet things." *He looks at you with a faint, barely noticeable glint of teasing in his eyes, but there is no malice in it — only tired tenderness and a readiness to wait as long as needed.*

"Oh... I didn't expect to see you here. I wanted to escape the hustle and bustle, but it seems I've just found another reason to spend time with you." — *He let out a faint chuckle, running his fingers through his wet hair, and his blue eyes swept over the other man's figure with an open but elegant interest.* — "Though I have to admit, I wasn't planning on meeting anyone in this state. Someone decided my clothes made for an excellent souvenir. But, you know, it's actually for the better. Fewer barriers. So take your pick: do you want tea? I've got some excellent bergamot left in my bag. Or would you prefer to take a dip? The water is warm today, and I promise — no one will steal your things while I'm around."

}, amusement and embarrassment mixing in his gaze.* "I assure you, despite all evidence to the contrary, this is not normally how noble gatherings are meant to proceed." *Another pause.* "Though if you remain near me long enough, there is a reasonable chance we will witness at least three more catastrophes before the evening ends." *Louis let out a quiet sigh before offering his arm, his smile returning despite his obvious defeat at the hands of destiny.* "Would you care to accompany me, or would you prefer to preserve your safety while you still can?"

**Shores of Koror Island, Republic of Palau, Federated States of Micronesia.** *The first thing you notice when the boat reaches the island is the color.* *The water surrounding the small stretch of jungle-covered land is so blue it almost looks artificial. Sunlight dances across the lagoon, turning the surface into liquid glass.* *You stand at the bow, sea breeze whipping your hair across your face, and smile despite yourself.* *This.* *This is exactly why you became a maritime historian.* *For months, you've dreamed about this expedition. A recently discovered eighteenth-century shipwreck. Historical records that don't quite match. A multidisciplinary team of experts brought together to uncover the truth.* *Paradise and a mystery.* *What more could you want?* *The boat bumps gently against the wooden dock.* *Researchers begin unloading crates and equipment while you grab your backpack and step onto the island.* *The camp sits just beyond the beach—a collection of tents scattered beneath towering palm trees.* *Voices drift through the humid air.* *Laughter. Conversation. Excitement.* *You spot several familiar faces from the university and exchange greetings as you make your way toward the camp.* *Everything is perfect.* *Until you hear a voice.* "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." *Your stomach drops. You know that voice.* *You turn. And there he is.* *Seth MacGregor.* *Leaning casually against a stack of supply crates like he's posing for a magazine cover rather than standing in the middle of a remote island.* *Tall. Infuriatingly attractive. Dark hair tousled by the wind. A smug grin already spreading across his face. Steel-blue eyes lock onto yours.* "Historian." *You stare.* *He smiles wider.* "Oceanographer." *For one brief moment, neither of you speaks.* *The memory of that conference comes rushing back.* *The argument during the panel discussion.* *The way he'd dismissed your interpretation of a naval trade route.* *The way you'd publicly informed him that knowing the depth of an ocean trench did not make him an expert on eighteenth-century maritime history.* *The audience had loved it.* *You'd loved it.* *Seth clearly had not.* "What are you doing here?" *you ask.* "The same thing as you." "I thought this expedition already had an oceanographer." "It did." *He shrugs.* "They wanted a better one." *You close your eyes.* *Of course he would say that.* *When you open them again, he's still looking annoyingly pleased with himself.* "Nice to see you too." "It isn't." "Ouch." *The bastard actually looks amused.* *Before you can think of a response, the expedition coordinator, Professor Henderson, appears carrying a clipboard.* "Excellent, everyone's here!" *No.* *Not excellent.* *Anything but excellent.* *Henderson looks between you and Seth.* "Ah, you've already met." "Unfortunately," *you say.* "Likewise," *Seth replies.* *The liar.* *Henderson either doesn't notice the hostility or chooses to ignore it.* "Wonderful. Then this should be easy." *A chill runs down your spine.* *Nothing good has ever followed the sentence: this should be easy.* "What should be easy?" *you ask cautiously.* *The professor consults his clipboard.* "Accommodation." *Oh no.* "Accommodation?" *Seth repeats.* "Small issue," *Henderson says.* "Dr. MacGregor was added to the expedition rather late." *You don't like where this is going.* "He arrived without most of the equipment originally allocated to him." *You really don't like where this is going.* "The camp is already full." *You stare.* *The professor smiles.* "So," *he continues cheerfully,* "we'll need someone willing to share." *The camp suddenly becomes very quiet.* *Several researchers immediately find fascinating reasons to look elsewhere.* *Traitors.* *Absolute traitors.* *Then Henderson's eyes land on you.* *No.* *No.* *No.* "You have the spare cot in Tent Seven." *The world stops.* *Across from you, Seth slowly begins to grin.* "You can't be serious." "Only temporary." "How temporary?" "A few weeks." "A few—" *You nearly choke.* "A few weeks?" "It's a large tent," *Henderson says.* "It is not." "It really isn't," *Seth agrees.* *You shoot him a glare.* *His grin grows.* "Absolutely not." "Unfortunately," *Henderson says,* "there are no other options." *You glance around desperately.* *Nobody volunteers.* "Look at it this way." "I won't." "You get to spend the summer with me." *You contemplate murder.* *Briefly.* "Fine," *you say through clenched teeth.* *The professor sighs in relief.* "Excellent." "It is not excellent." "It'll be fun," *Seth says.* "It'll be a disaster." *His eyes sparkle with amusement.* "Same thing, sometimes."

}, closing the distance, and tilts his head to the side.* — Or... do you want to offer me something in return?