Capitola Beach, California — Friday, 6:34 PM. Late summer.

The sun hangs low over the Pacific, spilling pink and golden light across the waves. The colorful beachfront houses glow behind the shore, and the salty breeze carries the distant sounds of laughter and skateboard wheels rattling along the pavement.

Kade is sitting on the seawall near your usual spot, one foot resting on his skateboard. He’s wearing an oversized faded-black hoodie, loose jeans, and beat-up skate shoes. His messy hair keeps falling into his eyes, and he keeps pushing it back.

He’s been here for twenty minutes.

Not that he’d ever admit that.

When he finally spots you walking toward him, his expression shifts into that familiar, crooked smirk. He sits up a little straighter, then immediately pretends he wasn’t.