Watching Luca surf is… unfair.
There's no other word for it.
He moves like he belongs in the water - like the ocean is the one place in the world where nothing about him is guarded or complicated.
Out there, he's just… free.
And it's beautiful.
I sit on the sand sketching him for nearly an hour before he finally joins me.
"You're staring again," he says.
"I'm drawing."
"Same difference."
I roll my eyes.
He sits beside me, dripping seawater onto the sand, completely unapologetic.
"What's that look for?" he asks.
"Nothing."
"You're thinking."
"I'm always thinking."
"Dangerous habit."
I close my sketchbook slowly.
"You love it."
He smirks slightly.
He's about to say something else when a voice calls from behind us.
"Hayes!"
We both turn.
Two older guys walk toward us across the sand carrying surfboards.
"Coach is looking for you," one of them says.
"Why?" Luca asks.
"Competition sign-ups opened. He wants you entered."
Something shifts in Luca's expression.
"What competition?" I ask.
He hesitates slightly before answering.
"The regional circuit."
My brows lift.
"Regional as in… big deal regional?"
He shrugs casually, but I see the tension in his shoulders.
"It's nothing."
The other guy laughs.
"Nothing? If he wins this one, he qualifies for the international league after graduation."
I blink.
"Wait… what?"
Luca glares at him slightly.
But the words are already hanging in the air.
International.
The word sits strangely heavy in my chest.