1 Chapter 1

1

Finn rolled his eyes for the fifth time and wondered if it was possible to sprain them. They were concealed behind a pair of aviator sunglasses, and with a staggering amount of willpower, he managed to keep his expression neutral. He was supposed to be looking straight ahead at the sea, not side eyeing the conversation beside him.

Brody, or as he was commonly known among the lifeguards, the beach brat, was retelling his dramatic battle with a shark. Apparently, he punched it in the face, and wrestled his surfboard from its jaws. Finn inwardly smirked at the gasps from Brody’s audience.

Brody’s popularity exploded as soon as he stepped on the sand, and a group of fans cheered him on when he surfed. Not one of them had been on the beach that morning when the shark ‘attacked’, but Finn had.

Shark attacks were really rare, but not unheard of off the coast of Cornwall. They were serious and traumatic when they occurred. Finn didn’t roll his eyes in mocking of such an incident, he rolled them because Brody was mistaken.

The shark that Brody described in great detail, wasn’t a shark, but a kid’s float that had drifted out to sea. As the day went on Brody’s descriptions of the shark changed from it being a mere juvenile, to a megalodon, a shark that had been extinct for millions of years.

Brody spread his hands as far as they would go, and Finn heard the word ‘teeth’. One of his fans, slapped her hand over her mouth and shook her head. Brody wrapped an arm around her and tugged her close, consoling the terror he had instilled in her. She immediately hugged him back tighter, and after a few minutes someone had to coax her away from Brody’s chest. Finn didn’t blame her for holding onto him as long as she could, but instead of being wrapped up in Brody’s arms, Finn wanted to hold the beach brat in his.

Not once since Brody had started coming to the beach, did he wear anything on the upper half of his body. The sight was distracting, to say the least. Brody was hot. Twenty-three, with an athletic body, windswept hair that curled into ringlets when it got wet. His eyes were blue as far as Finn could tell, he never got close enough to see the exact shade, and his lips were plump. When he surfed he had an expression of pure concentration, eyes focused, body positioned, and lips slightly parted. Finn had trouble tearing his gaze away, and so did most people watching from the beach. Brody was undeniably hot.

There was a slight chill to the wind, and Finn rolled his shoulders to hide his shiver. He wore a pair of board shorts, and his tight lifeguard T-shirt. He had a hoodie, thought about putting it on, but when he saw Brody bare-chested, and unbothered, he decided against it.

Families began packing up their belongings and the beach slowly cleared. Brody’s adoring fans got fewer and fewer until his two closest friends, Reece and Emily, remained. Reece looked a few years older than Brody, his hair was amber, and he wore dark clothes even in the height of summer. Emily was fresh faced, with big brown eyes and thick black hair. Her joyous laugh could be heard from the opposite end of the beach, and it made Finn smile. If she was laughing, Brody probably was laughing, too.

Brody got his beach brat nickname for being arrogant about surfing, but rightly so when he dazzled with his skills. He strutted the beach like the very sand was his to tread on, and he walked with his chin raised and his lips pouted. Arrogant, but adorable too. Finn saw glimpses of a different Brody that his friends and lifeguard colleagues didn’t see.

Over weekends Brody arrived at the beach when most guys his age would still be in bed. Many times, Finn had seen him admiring the sunrise. He searched the sand for shells, and the ones he liked he hastily shoved in his shorts. If there were birds twirling in the sky, he sat on his board and watched them fly. He admired the bracelets around his wrists, and ran his fingertips gently over the stones, caressing them. In short, Brody was adorable, and Finn’s chest tightened each morning he saw him, but through the day he morphed into the confident brat, and by lunchtime his morning-cuteness was forgotten under pouts and smirks.

Finn turned at the bump to his shoulder. Trent wore matching aviators, but unlike Finn’s static face, he grinned brightly. Finn stared into his glasses and saw his reflection. Trent’s red board shorts were damp, and he hid something under his T-shirt, stretching the word lifeguard until it was barely readable.