The sound of bare feet against sand reached Amy before she saw him.
A tall figure stepped into view, moonlight catching on bronzed skin and water-slicked muscles. He wore low-slung navy-blue beach shorts, damp at the hem, his upper body bare, sculpted in a way that felt effortless rather than deliberate. Broad shoulders. Defined arms. A lean waist that spoke of strength built through habit, not vanity.
He looked effortless, like someone who didn't need to try to be noticed.
And yet… he commanded attention anyway.
"Rex. Sit."
The dog froze instantly.
Then obeyed.
Amy blinked.
The boy stopped a few steps away from her, eyes sharp but calm. "I'm sorry about that," he said evenly. "He doesn't usually charge like that."
He extended his hand.
She hesitated only a second before taking the hand he offered.
His grip was firm, steady, grounding.
"It's fine," Amy said as he pulled her up. "I've survived worse."
A flicker of amusement crossed his face. "What are you doing out here?"
Before she could answer—
"Rex. Come."
Another voice cut through the air, colder, heavier.
A man rushed forward from the shadows, panic written all over his face. "I—I'm sorry, sir. I should've been watching him more closely. I—"
The owner of the voice stepped closer.
Even without speaking, his presence shifted the air.
"How could you be careless?" he demanded. "You know how dangerous that dog is. Someone could've been seriously hurt."
"I'm sorry," the man repeated desperately. "It won't happen again."
"Cut him some slack," the man in blue shorts said calmly.
The other man's gaze snapped toward him.
A glare followed.
"Take Rex and leave," he ordered.
The handler nodded frantically. "Yes, sir. Come on, Rex."
The dog paused once, glancing back at Amy—then followed.
The man turned back toward them.
"Who is she?" he asked coolly. "And what is she doing here?"
The man in blue shorts stiffened. "Jaylen play nice."
Jaylen? Amy muttered under her breath as she turned—
And that's when she saw him.
He wore black beach shorts, cut low and casual, his upper body bare, water tracing slow paths down firm muscle and sharp lines. He was devastatingly handsome in a way that felt untouchable. Cold. Beautiful. His presence was commanding without effort—like the beach had reshaped itself to make room for him.
Amy forgot how to breathe.
Jayden chuckled. "Wow. You managed to get another one speechless."
"Shut it," Jaylen snapped.
His eyes locked onto Amy. "What are you doing here?"
The temperature dropped.
Amy snapped out of it. "I got lost," she said evenly. "I was trying to find my way back when your dog attacked me."
"Well, you can get going now."
"Excuse me?"
"In case you didn't read the obvious sign," Jaylen said flatly, "this area is private property. No one else is allowed here."
"Are you freaking for real right now?" Amy shot back, eyes flashing.
"That's enough clashing," Jayden said quickly. "You two are freezing the beach."
"Why is he being such a jerk?" Amy muttered.
Jayden smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry about him. My name's Jayden Norman, and the jerk beside me is my twin, Jaylen Norman. He's annoying, but under all that ice, he's actually a sweet kid."
Jaylen shot him a murderous glare.
"Anyways," Jayden continued, unfazed, "what's your name?"
"Amy. Amy Fernandez."
"Nice to meet you, Amy." He smiled—bright, charming, lethal.
"If you're done embarrassing yourself," Jaylen cut in coldly, "let's go finish your stupid livestream. I've got an appointment by seven, and Lucius still needs to pick me up."
Jayden sighed. "Fine." Then he turned to Amy. "Want to join?"
"Jayden," Jaylen warned quietly.
"Join you?" Amy asked, confused.
"My livestream."
"What livestream?"
"You don't recognize me?" Jayden blinked.
"Am I supposed to?"
"You don't know who I am?"
"We just met," Amy replied calmly. "How am I supposed to know you?"
"Finally someone with a brain," Jaylen muttered.
"Jaylen!" Jayden snapped.
"Well," Jayden said after a moment, regaining composure, "I'm Jayden Norman. Celebrity. Want an autograph?"
"No thank you," Amy said plainly. "I'm good."
Jayden stared after her retreating figure, his usual dazzling smile still fixed on his face.
That smile never failed, he thought. Not once.
Yet she hadn't even flinched.
She's not normal, Jayden realized, a spark of excitement curling in his chest.
A slow, mischievous smile tugged at his lips.
This summer might actually be fun.
"Are you coming with him or not?" Jaylen asked Amy coldly, his words clipped, his gaze sharp. Amy's eyes widened slightly at his bluntness.
"If you don't mind me being there, then sure," she replied, trying to keep her tone casual.
"Why would I mind your presence? You're not important," Jaylen said, turning on his heel and striding away, each step measured and commanding.
"Make sure I don't get there before you, Jayden, or I'll leave," he added over his shoulder without looking back.
"Jaylen, if I never told you this before, then I'm telling you now — I hate you!" Jayden shouted, breaking into a sprint after his twin, leaving Amy standing behind, caught between amusement and exasperation.
"What are you waiting for? Princess treatment?" Jaylen called over his shoulder, his voice mocking, carrying that effortless authority.
"I'm coming!" Amy called, jogging to catch up, a small smile tugging at her lips as she watched their backs.
Guess the fun begins.
"Hey Amy, hurry up or this stone cold human is gonna kill us," Jayden turned his head and said, smiling.
"Coming," Amy replied, smiling back.
Up ahead, Jaylen's head turned.
He glanced back once.
Just once.
His gaze landed on her — on that smile.
Amy. Amy Fernandez.
Her name echoed in his mind, sharp, deliberate, impossible to ignore.
A slow, sexy, devilish smirk curved across Jaylen's lips — sharp, deliberate, and magnetic.
It didn't warm his face, didn't invite comfort. It warned.
The kind of smile that never reached his eyes…
The kind that appeared only when something—or someone—unexpected dared to cross into his world.
And right now, she had.
Because Jaylen Norman had already seen her name before.
And anyone who crossed into his private territory without permission—
never did so by accident.
And somehow… he found it impossible not to notice her.