Tina stood in front of her mirror, adjusting the strings of the bikini top—two tiny triangles of turquoise fabric held together by nothing but hope and a thin strand between her shoulder blades. She turned sideways, watching the curve of her hip, the way the micro thong disappeared between the cheeks of her ass, leaving almost nothing to the imagination. Behind her, reflected in the glass, Tyler sat on the edge of her bed, already dressed in board shorts and a loose button-up, watching her with that quiet intensity that still made her stomach flip.

"You ready?" she asked, turning to face him, letting him get the full view. The bikini top barely covered her nipples. The thong was a string and a triangle. She'd chosen it because she knew exactly what it would do to him.

Tyler's throat moved as he swallowed. "I—I mean, yeah. I just—you're gonna wear that?"

Tina walked toward him, her hips swaying, and stopped between his knees. She ran her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead, tracing the scar through his eyebrow with her thumb. "You don't like it?"

"No—I mean yes. I like it. Too much. That's the—the problem." His hands found her waist, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin just above the waistband of the thong. "Everyone's gonna—they're gonna stare."

"Let them." She leaned down and kissed him, soft and slow, her tongue brushing his lower lip before she pulled back. "I'm yours. They can look all they want."

His hands tightened on her waist, and she felt the slight tremble in his fingers. She loved that. That he still got nervous. That after everything they'd done, she could still make his hands shake.

They walked out of her room together, his hand finding hers in the hallway, their fingers threading together like they'd been doing it their whole lives. She smiled, and he blushed, the pink spreading across his cheeks, and she squeezed his hand harder because she couldn't help it—he was so fucking cute when he did that.

The beach was a ten-minute walk from her house, down a path of cracked pavement and overgrown grass that led to the sand. The bonfire was already roaring when they arrived, orange flames licking at the darkening sky, a crowd of their classmates scattered across blankets and towels with coolers and speakers and the smell of salt and smoke and coconut oil.

Tina felt the shift the moment they stepped onto the sand. The way conversations stuttered. The way heads turned. The way eyes dragged across her body like hands she hadn't invited.

A whistle cut through the noise. Sharp. Deliberate.

"Damn, Star—you trying to make someone die tonight?"

It was Marcus, one of the jocks from the cafeteria, lounging on a blanket with a beer in his hand and a grin on his face. The guys around him laughed, their eyes raking over her, and Tina felt Tyler's hand tighten around hers.

She didn't look at them. Didn't slow down. She kept walking toward an empty spot near the fire, her bare feet sinking into the warm sand, the thong riding up between her cheeks with every step.

"Tina—" Tyler's voice was low, strained. She glanced at him. His jaw was tight, his eyes fixed ahead, but she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his free hand had curled into a fist.

She stopped walking and turned to face him, blocking his view of the jocks with her body. She reached up and cupped his face in both hands, forcing him to look at her.

"Hey." Soft. Just for him. "Look at me."

His eyes met hers. Dark. Troubled. The firelight flickered in his irises, casting shadows across the sharp lines of his face.

"I don't care about them," she said, her thumbs stroking his cheekbones. "I never did. I only care about you. Okay?"

He let out a breath, his shoulders dropping slightly. "I know. I just—I don't like the way they—"

"I know." She rose on her toes and kissed him, right there in front of everyone, her lips soft and warm against his. She let it linger, let the whole beach see who she was kissing, who she had chosen. When she pulled back, his eyes were dazed, his lips slightly parted.

"Better?" she whispered.

He nodded, a small smile tugging at his mouth. "Yeah."

She squeezed his hand and led him to an empty spot near the fire, where she spread out a blanket and set down the bag she'd brought. The jocks were still watching—she could feel their eyes on her back like a physical weight—but she didn't give them the satisfaction of turning around.

Tyler sat down on the blanket, his knees pulled up, his hands resting loose on his shins. He looked out at the water for a moment, the waves catching the last light of the sunset, and Tina watched him. The way the firelight played across his skin. The way his chest rose and fell under the loose button-up.

She wanted to see more.

"Take off your shirt," she said.

He turned to her, eyebrows rising. "What?"

"Take it off. I want to see you."

A flush crept up his neck, but he didn't argue. He reached for the buttons, his fingers working slowly, methodically, revealing inch by inch of his chest. The muscles in his shoulders. The broad expanse of his torso. The trail of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his board shorts.

Tina's breath caught.

She'd seen him naked before, obviously. Multiple times. But somehow it was different here, under the open sky, the firelight catching every ridge and hollow of his body, the salt breeze brushing over his skin like it was touching something sacred.

He was beautiful. All of him. The way the muscles moved under his skin when he shifted. The way the scar through his eyebrow caught the light. The way he looked at her like she was the only person on the entire beach.

A sly smirk spread across her face.

She stood up.

"Tina—what are you—"

She reached behind her back and untied the strings of the bikini top. It fell away, her breasts spilling free, her nipples hardening instantly in the cool evening air. She heard a sharp intake of breath from somewhere behind her—one of the jocks, probably—but she didn't look. Her eyes stayed on Tyler.

She hooked her thumbs into the sides of the thong and pushed it down her hips, stepping out of it, leaving her completely naked in front of the fire. The heat of the flames kissed her skin. The breeze moved over her like a whisper.

She was bare. Completely. Her pussy smooth and exposed, her nipples tight and dark, her body gold in the firelight.

She heard the murmurs ripple through the crowd. The low whistles. The whispered curse words. She heard Marcus say something she didn't catch, and the rough laughter that followed.

But she only saw Tyler.

He was frozen. His mouth slightly open. His eyes running over her like he was memorizing every curve, every shadow, every place where the firelight made her glow.

"Sunscreen," she said, her voice steady, almost playful. She tossed him the bottle she'd pulled from her bag. "I need you to put it on me. Everywhere."

He caught it—barely—nearly dropping it, his hands fumbling. He stared at her, then at the bottle, then at her again.

"I—you—everyone is—"

"I don't care." She turned around, presenting him with her back, her ass, the smooth curve of her spine leading down into the round swell of her cheeks. She looked over her shoulder at him. "You care?"

His throat moved. He shook his head slowly. "No. I mean—yeah, but—no. I—"

"Then come here."

He got up, the bottle in his hand, and walked toward her. She felt his presence behind her, the heat of his body, the slight tremor in his fingers as he uncapped the sunscreen and squeezed a line of white lotion onto his palm.

His hands touched her shoulders first. Warm. Slightly rough. The sunscreen cold against her skin for a moment before his hands warmed it, spreading it across her shoulders, down her arms, across her upper back. She let out a soft breath, her eyes fluttering closed.

His hands moved lower. Following the curve of her spine. Spreading the sunscreen over her lower back, his fingers pressing just a little harder, massaging the lotion into her skin. She heard him swallow. She felt him pause at the top of her ass.

"You—you want me to—"

"Everywhere," she said softly. "I said everywhere."

His hands cupped her ass. His fingers spread the sunscreen over the round curves of her cheeks, sliding over her skin with slow, deliberate strokes. She felt the heat of his palms, the intentional slowness of his touch, the way his breath caught when his fingers slipped between her cheeks and grazed the sensitive skin there.

She bit her lip.

He squeezed her ass gently, spreading the lotion, his fingers lingering. She leaned back slightly, pressing into him, and felt the hardness of him against her back through his board shorts.

She smiled.

When he finished, his hands rested on her hips for a moment. She turned around, facing him, her breasts brushing against his bare chest. She looked at him—at the pink flush on his cheeks, the wonder in his eyes—and she reached up and kissed him.

Behind them, the fire crackled. The crowd watched. The jocks stared with hungry, jealous eyes.

But Tina didn't see any of it. She only saw Tyler. His hands warm on her skin. His lips soft against hers. His heart beating under her palm, fast and true.

She pulled back, her forehead resting against his, and whispered, "I love when you look at me like that."

"Like—like what?"

"Like I'm the only thing that matters."

He swallowed. "You are."

She kissed him again, deeper this time, her fingers threading into his hair, her naked body pressed against his. The fire painted shadows across their skin, and the whole beach watched them burn.

She pulled back from the kiss slowly, her lips lingering, her fingers still threaded through his hair. The fire crackled and popped, sending sparks spiraling into the dark sky. She could feel the weight of every stare—the jocks, the cheerleaders, the random classmates who'd gathered around the bonfire—but she didn't care. Not when Tyler looked at her like she was the only real thing in the world.

Then she turned her head. Just slightly. Just enough to find Marcus standing near the cooler, a beer in his hand, his eyes fixed on her naked body with a hungry, arrogant grin.

"You want a picture?" she called out, her voice cutting through the bass and the chatter. "It'll last longer."

The words landed like a slap. Marcus's grin faltered. A few people laughed—nervous, surprised laughter. Someone whistled low. Marcus's face flushed red, and he muttered something under his breath, turning away, shoving his beer bottle against his lips.

Tina didn't watch him leave. She turned back to Tyler, her voice softening instantly. "Sorry. I just—I hate the way he looks at you."

Tyler blinked. "He—he was looking at you."

"He was looking at us. And he was enjoying the fact that it bothered you." She traced her fingers along his jaw. "I don't like anything that bothers you."

His throat moved. He reached out, his hand settling on her hip, his thumb brushing the curve of her waist. "You—you didn't have to do that."

"I know." She leaned in, her lips brushing his ear. "But I wanted to."

A beat of silence. The firelight painted shadows across his face, catching the scar through his eyebrow, the soft wonder in his eyes. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, his stutter catching the words.

She waited. Patient. Smiling.

"I—I really—" He swallowed hard, starting over. "I really love you, Tina."

Her heart stopped. Then restarted, faster than before. She'd heard him say it before—once, in the dark of her bedroom, muffled against her skin—but out here, under the stars, with the whole beach listening, it hit different. It hit harder.

"I love you too," she whispered, and she meant it more than she'd ever meant anything.

He pulled her close, his arms wrapping around her, her bare skin pressed against his chest. She felt his heart hammering—fast, steady, real. She buried her face in his neck, breathing him in: salt and sunscreen and something warm underneath.

Someone called from the crowd—a girl's voice, teasing: "Get a room, you two!"

Tina laughed against his skin. "We have one. It's called everywhere."

Tyler snorted, a surprised sound, and she felt his chest shake with a laugh. She pulled back to look at him, grinning, her eyes bright with joy.

"You're ridiculous," he said, but his voice was soft, full of affection.

"You love it."

He didn't answer. He just kissed her again, slower this time, his hand cupping the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair. The fire crackled. The waves whispered. The crowd's murmur faded into background noise, meaningless, distant.

When they broke apart, she was breathless. She looked at him—at the sand dusting his shoulders, the firelight catching the sweat on his skin, the way he looked at her like she was a miracle he never expected to hold—and she felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes.

"Hey—" His voice dropped, concerned. "What's wrong?"

She shook her head, blinking the tears away. "Nothing. Everything. You." She laughed, wet and happy. "I just—I never thought I'd have this. Someone who looks at me the way you do."

"Tina—"

"No, I mean it. Everyone looks at me like they want to fuck me. But you look at me like you want to know me." She pressed her palm flat against his chest, feeling his heartbeat under her hand. "That's why I chose you. That's why I'll always choose you."

His breath stuttered. He pulled her into a hug, tight, almost desperate. "I—I don't know what I did to deserve you."

"You existed," she said simply. "And you didn't look away."

They stood like that for a long moment, wrapped in each other, the bonfire warming their backs, the sand cool beneath their feet. She didn't care that she was naked. She didn't care that people were watching. All she cared about was the boy in her arms, the one who stuttered and blushed and looked at her like she was the whole world.

He was.