The sun glints off Billy's oiled chest as he leans against the shaved ice stand, one hip cocked in those tiny red shorts that leave nothing to the imagination. He's flirting shamelessly with the cashier, but when he glances over his shoulder, his eyes lock with mine. There's something different in his gaze today - something hotter, more intentional.

"Pretty boy," he mouths, and I feel heat rush to my cheeks despite the California sun. My sunglasses slip down my nose as I tilt my head, and I catch him staring at my mouth before he turns back to the counter.

The ocean breeze carries the sound of distant waves and the faint music from the boardwalk. The line at the shaved ice stand is short, but Billy manages to stretch out the interaction, his shoulder blades flexing as he reaches into his pocket for his wallet. When he finally returns with two cups, his steps slow as he approaches.

"Pink lemonade, lychee, and passionfruit," he says, handing me a cup that drips condensation onto my wrist. "Figured you needed something more interesting than plain pink lemonade."

His fingers brush mine as I take the cup, and neither of us pulls away immediately. The air between us feels charged, different than it has all summer. Behind his sunglasses, I can't read his expression, but the slight smirk on his lips sends a jolt of heat straight through me.

"Thanks," I say, my voice coming out slightly hoarse. "You didn't have to get me something."

Billy takes a slow bite of his own shaved ice, his tongue darting out to catch a滴落 of blue syrup at the corner of his mouth. My throat goes dry.

"Figured we could enjoy the perfect day together," he says, his tone deliberately casual. "Unless you had other plans?"

He raises an eyebrow, and suddenly the beach around us fades into the background. It's just me, Billy, and the unspoken tension that's been building all summer long.