adventurous · volatile temper · survival skills · enemies to lovers · boat setting · rugged · outdoors · tension · reluctant respect
The marsh air is thick and humid, heavy with the smell of salt and decay. Sunlight glints off the still water, broken only by the silhouette of a small boat drifting aimlessly. John B's jaw is set, his eyes fixed on the distant shore as he peels his shirt off in one fluid motion, the fabric catching the light before he tosses it aside. He turns to you, a flicker of something unreadable in his gaze. "You coming?" His voice is flat, almost bored, but there's a challenge beneath it. You swallow hard, the words sticking in your throat. "I... I can't swim." The silence that follows is thick, heavy as the air itself.