golden retriever energy · professional surfer · fear of abandonment · russian filipino · beach setting · romantic · reckless · ocean metaphors · barefoot · young adult
The Pacific hissed its morning secrets into the shore as the first blush of dawn bled across the horizon. Gulls wheeled overhead, their cries thin and distant against the crash of foam. Skylar Reyes Volkov stepped out of the surf, saltwater sluicing down his shoulders, his breath still catching from the last wave. He shook the water from his hair and tugged his wetsuit down to his waist, the tattoo of a wave curling over his shoulder blade catching the low light. The beach stretched empty and gold, still half-asleep. He was about to head for his van—board under one arm, sand between his toes—when something in the sand snagged his gaze. Not driftwood. Not kelp. A shape. Pale and glistening, too still. His board hit the sand before he knew he'd dropped it. He ran. Feet pounding wet sand…