Page 120 of Hawaii Can Suck It

We stay suspended like that, holding each other in the gentle current, until our lungs remind us we’re not actually equipped with gills. With synchronized kicks, we rise to the surface.

I rip off my mask, grinning so hard my face hurts. “Tell me you got that on video! ¡Dios mío! That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen in my life!”

“Baby, I think I did, but I can’t be sure. Your ass was pretty distracting.”

I splash him. “Seriously? That’s what you were focusing on? My dream of seeing a sea turtle, and you were filming my rear end?”

“I got the turtle too,” he laughs.

“Give me the camera so I can check the footage.”

I reach for the handle—but instead, he pulls me in. His lips find mine in a kiss that tastes of salt water and adventure.

When we break apart, Reece’s expression shifts, his gaze so intense that it makes the rest of the world fade to nothing. “My dream is floating right here in my arms. Everything else is just bonus footage.”

My heart stops, skips, then races as I slam my lips onto his, hungry to communicate to his body what I’m not ready to acknowledge to myself.

***

Ishouldnotbethis comfortable.

Wrapped up in one oversized beach towel, legs tangled with Reece’s, his chest firm and warm against my back, I’m completely cocooned in him—trapped in the best possible way. His arms are locked around me, not as a restraint, but as a claim, a silent promise that I’m not going anywhere.

Which works for me. I have no interest in wiggling free.

“These moments,” he murmurs against my ear, his breath entirely too distracting, “are why I love filming.”

I angle my head back, resting against his broad, stupidly comfortable chest. “Snuggling with me? That’s your takeaway?”

“Obviously,” he teases, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “I’m saying… most people will never get to experience swimming with sea turtles or being above the clouds watching the sunrise. So at least I can help them experience it, you know? With my videos.”

His arms tighten around me, pulling me closer.

“Especially for my younger audience,” he continues. “Kids like Keoni—it shows them how big the world is, sparks ideas about places to visit, careers to explore, and adventures they may want to try someday.”

“I’ve never thought about it that way, but you’re totally right.” I turn my head slightly to meet his eyes. “You are the reason I picked up a camera in the first place.”

“Wait. Seriously? You meant it when you told my moms that?”

“I used to rewatch your videos the way film students dissect their favorite directors. I’d take notes on your transitions, your tracking shots, how you built tension before a stunt. My friends were all thirst-following for your abs. I was fangirling over your dolly zooms and depth-of-field choices.”

His chest vibrates against my back with silent laughter.

“You drew me in with your visual storytelling. Nobody else was making skateboarding down a hill resemble an epic Hollywood production.”

“But what about my abs? You liked them too, right?”

I elbow him lightly in the ribs, earning another laugh. “Yeah, yeah, they were and are spectacular.”

“I never imagined that filming my dumb videos would lead me to the most incredible girl I’ve ever met.”

I twist in his arms, nearly dislodging our carefully arranged towel fortress, needing to see his face—to assess whether this is just another line, another performance, another practiced charm offensive.

But his eyes… God, his eyes. They’re wide open, vulnerable in a way I’ve never seen before, holding none of the calculated charisma he deploys for his audience.

I swallow, forcing words out. “I think you’re incredible too, Reece.”

“I know I don’t deserve to be here with you, but there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to make this last.”

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