Page 45 of Tyler (Bummerset Shore University #2)

It’s quiet here. Most people are still inside, enjoying Thanksgiving, eating with family, catching up, laughing. A few wander along the edge of the water, but this stretch feels like it’s just ours.

We make our way toward one of the little changing huts to change into our wetsuits without flashing half the damn coast, and duck inside.

It should’ve taken, what, five minutes? But shit, Jace is all warm skin and wandering hands, tugging at my clothes like they offend him.

I try to focus, really, I do . But then he leans in, mouth brushing my jaw, all smug and sweet and seductive, and suddenly I forget wetsuits even exist.

By the time we finally stumble out—flushed as hell, chuckling, our boards in hand—we’re shoving each other like damn kids, trying to tackle each other as we jog for the waves. And I swear, my heart hasn’t been this full in fucking forever.

The sand kicks up as we race each other to the shoreline, whooping loud enough to startle a few gulls, before we crash into the surf like we’ve been counting down the days to this, and I have. Shit, how I have waited for this.

Salt hits my skin, cold and electric, and Jace laughs as a wave knocks into him sideways, that stupid beanie thank fuck left behind in the hut. We paddle out under a sky streaked in soft orange and pink, the last light of the day stretching across the water like a piece of damn art.

Eventually, we’re far enough that the beach is just a soft blur behind us and we sit on our boards, gently rising and falling with the rhythm of the waves, waiting for the perfect one. No noise but the sea and the wind and the content sigh of my lover.

Jace leans back slightly, tilting his head toward the sky with his eyes closed as he pushes the damp blonde strands back. I watch him exhale, like the sun and salt are calming something fundamental in him.

He’s absolutely, unapologetically stunning like this. His face lit by the dying sun, cheekbones sharp, lips soft, a quiet, easy smile curling at the corners. His feet dangle beneath the surface, toes moving back and forth in the current, and all I can think is—

This . Right here. This is everything I’ll ever want. Ever need.

Him. Me. The ocean under us and the sky above—vast, endless, hauntingly beautiful.

I never want to be without this. I never want to lose him. Not to the public, not to pressure, not to the fucking visa situation, or whatever else might try to pull us apart.

And before I even register I’m speaking, the words are already out of my mouth.

“Marry me.”

They hit the air with no damn warning, no buildup whatsoever. It’s just raw, honest, mine.

I wince as Jace’s head snaps toward me. His gray eyes, glowing almost gold now in the reflection of the sky, go wide. He blinks once, then presses his lips together in a barely suppressed smile.

“Did you actually mean to ask that just now?”

I groan up at the sky. Loud. Embarrassed. Hopelessly gone. No, I wasn’t planning on it. Not here, not now, not… yet . But shit... the sunset, the sea, the fucking sand. Our damn trifecta. It’s perfect. He’s perfect… It just… happened.

“I won’t marry you for a green card, baby…”

“I know,” I sigh, dragging a hand through my hair. “That’s not why I— It’s not about that.”

“I will, though,” he adds quietly and my heart fucking stutters. “I’d marry you in a fucking heartbeat. You know that.”

My chest clenches. His voice is so sure, so soft.

“Good,” I say, my voice rough. “Because the same applies. You and me? We’re inevitable, Jacie. You’re my finale, my endgame, my encore.”

He smiles then. It’s slow, real, and so heartbreakingly devastating. It lights him the fuck up.

And god, I love him. Wholly, fully, completely.

“So it’s a no?” I tease, even as my heart hammers.

“Not exactly.” He shakes his head, eyes still on mine. “It’s a not yet .”

I stare, swallow the nerves away. He keeps going.

“We only get one life. And shit, I want to live it with you, however we can make that happen. Wherever we can make it happen.. And I fucking swear to you, I’ll say yes someday.

Ask me again when there’s no deportation hanging above our heads and I’m going to say yes.

Promise. But I want us to be sure . I want to say yes when it’s about us , and nothing else. ”

My throat is tight, but I manage to get the question out: “You don’t think we’re too young? Too inexperienced?”

He laughs, light and low. “Sure. Maybe. But so what? Most people spend their whole lives trying to find what we already have. Why should we pretend it’s not real just because it happened early?”

I can’t answer right away, because I’m still trying to breathe around how much I fucking love him.

The corner of his mouth pulls into his trademark smirk. “I love you more than I love French fries, Ty. That’s a whole lotta love.”

Shit, my heart. I reach out, grab his outstretched ankle, and tug him toward me until he’s close enough to kiss. I lay one on him—slow, grinning, absolutely fucking gone for this man.

“I also love you more than French fries,” I mumble against his amazing mouth.

His laugh vibrates between us, soft and warm. “Well, I for fucking sure hope so, since you’re not even a big fan of them.”

“I like French fries,” I scoff. “But I love you.”

“Good enough for me.”

We float for a second, just grinning at each other, the ocean gently rocking us, the sky stretched out in a colorful blur above. Then he squints past me, expression flipping from dreamy to devious in a heartbeat.

“I love you, Ty. But first—fucking paddle like your life depends on it. Big one coming.”

“What—?”

I twist to look over my shoulder. And holy shit. He’s not kidding. The swell behind us is rising fast, big and clean and beautiful .

“Go, go, go!” Jace shouts, already turning and paddling like hell.

I’m laughing as I follow, heart thudding with adrenaline and love and whatever else this perfect-ass day is made of.

And as we catch the wave together, dropping into the rush and speed and spray, I know, absolutely, unequivocally, that I’ll chase every wave with him.

For as long as he’ll fucking have me.