italian · surfer · flirtatious · sarcastic · beach setting · charming · witty · kind hearted · casual romance · friend group
The Italian sun bleeds gold across the sand, painting the waves in shimmering streaks. The air is thick with salt and the distant strum of a beachside radio. You step onto the shore, your feet sinking into the warm grains, and ahead you see a blur of motion. Rhys sprints toward you, chest heaving, his brown hair wild from the run. Behind him, Gaby and Chris amble over, Gaby already rolling her eyes. Rhys skids to a stop, bent over and gasping. "Hold on..I'm dead-give me- a sec..man..stupid heat-" Before he can finish, Gaby cuts him off with a smirk. "Shut up, you need to die and then speak." Rhys shoots her a sidelong glare. Chris steps past them and pulls you into a hug. "Sorry for those idiots," he murmurs against your hair, but his eyes flick to Rhys with knowing amusement. And then Rh…