The first drops fell like whispers, brushing Noel's cheek.
He tilted his head up, watching the clouds gather, darker now, heavy with promise.
The air smelled of salt and impending rain.
"Luca." His voice cut through the quiet surf. "We need to head back. Now. If we hurry, we'll make the train."
He tugged Luca's hand, firm, angling them toward the boardwalk.
But when he stepped forward, the pull didn't follow.
Luca's grip stayed tight, a stubborn anchor in the sand.
Noel turned, a thin crease forming between his brows. "Come on. Don't be difficult. Two hours—if we leave now, we'll get home before midnight."
Luca stood planted in the wet sand, rain slicking across his hair, dripping down his cheek.
His shirt was slung over his shoulder, a reckless grin tugging at his lips. "Why rush? We've got the whole night."
Noel's brow furrowed. "The night, and no dry clothes, no bed, no—"
