As the morning broke, Elias wasted no time in bed. He was up before his alarm, energized by a buzz he didn't quite understand. He folded his sheets, swept the room, and helped his mother unload the groceries, all while humming tunelessly to himself. There was a spring in his footsteps that hadn't been there in years.
"What's gotten into you?" His mom asked with a teasing smile.
"Nothing," Elias replied a little too quickly. "Just... the beach."
He brushed his hair with more care than usual, adjusted his shirt twice, and after a deep breath, he set out. In his chest, his heart beat a little louder than usual, thumping with a quiet hope: maybe Malik would be there again.
He retraced his steps from the day before, his sandals pressing into the warm wooden planks of the boardwalk, until he reached the flat rock where it all began. The breeze was there, familiar and soft. The tide was even lower than yesterday, revealing patterns in the sand that Elias hadn't noticed before.
He sat. He waited. He drew.
But Malik didn't come.
Minutes turned for an hour. The shade of the sun shifted slightly, and the thrill Elias had carried with him began to dim. His stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten. With a sigh, he stood up and slung his bag over his shoulder.
Just above the beach was a small café perched on a wooden ledge, with a wide glass window overlooking the ocean. Elias made his way toward it, telling himself he'd sit by the window. Just in case.
He opened the café door, and his breath caught in his throat.
"Oh, hey Eli," Malik said, standing near the counter with a drink in his hand and a bright, easy smile.
Elias blinked. "You're here."
"Yeah, I thought I'd grab something before heading down to the beach. I didn't expect to see you here. Or—well, I kinda hoped."
The words came with that same effortless charm that made Elias' stomach flutter.
"Want to join me?" Malik asked, motioning to the table by the window.
"Sure," Elias replied, trying not to sound too eager.
They sat across from each other, the sunlight casting shifting patterns across the wooden table. Elias stirred his iced tea slowly while Malik picked at a muffin.
"I wasn't sure you'd be back," Elias admitted.
"Me neither," Malik said. "But I wanted to see you again."
There it was again—that warmth; that spark that Elias felt the day before. It wasn't just an attraction. It was curiosity, comfort, and something harder to name.
"Do you draw every day?"
"Only when I feel something."
Malik's eyes didn't waver. "Did you feel something yesterday?"
Elias laughed softly, shaking his head. "You don't make it easy to play it cool."
"Why would we want to play it cool?"
That made Elias blush. He took a sip of tea to hide it. They chatted for what felt like minutes but ended up being an hour. Malik shared stories of helping his aunt with the boats, of growing up near the cliffs, of the time he accidentally drifted too far out in a canoe and had to be rescued. Elias shared his love for art, the way he always felt more like himself with a pencil in hand than with people.
When they left the café together, Malik's hand brushed against Elias' as they walked.
Neither of them moved away.