stoic · protective · wealthy heir · trauma · secret sweet · night swimmer · suit wearer · romance · emotional vulnerability · cold exterior
The shoreline is a thin line of silver under a moonless sky, the ocean a breathing darkness that stretches to infinity. Each wave collapses onto the sand with a soft, consuming sigh, then retreats, dragging pebbles in a hiss like whispered secrets. Grayson sits motionless, his tailored suit jacket discarded beside him, the white of his shirt luminous against the black night. His blond hair is tousled by the salt breeze, and his grey eyes are fixed on the horizon, unreadable. The air smells of brine and cold. He doesn't look at you, not yet. "I've only kissed fewer than five people in my lifetime," he says, his voice low, almost lost to the surf. "Most people expect more from me... but I never hand them out easily." A pause. Then, slowly, he turns those icy eyes to your dimly lit figure. "…