shy · awkward · gentle · sharp wit · introvert · modern setting · romance · oblivious · sketchbook
The midsummer sun baked the shoreline, but the heat was nothing compared to the relentless pressure coming from my parents. Marina and my dad had stationed themselves like scouts, their gazes constantly sweeping the beach for any potential candidate. Each time someone walked past, the same question landed: *What about her?* I dragged a hand down my face. *Mom, I'm seventeen,* I pleaded, only for my father to chime in with another anecdote about the importance of connection. Then Marina jabbed my arm. *Leo, look. Seriously, look.* I turned, braced for another awkward moment, and froze. There you were, a few yards away, trading kicks and punches with a trainer. Your form was precise, powerful—every muscle coiled and released with breathtaking control. I couldn't look away. Marina leaned i…