Kai’s grin curved wider at that — not smug, not staged, but sharp with the kind of certainty he didn’t have to fake anymore. Show me. She had no idea how those two words lit through his chest like gasoline.

He didn’t answer right away. Didn’t need to. He just squeezed her hand, firm and sure, letting the silence carry the weight of what she’d just given him.

Then, smooth as ever, his voice cut through the crash of waves below and the hum of gulls above. “Careful, Rae,” he murmured, leaning close enough that his breath brushed her ear as they started across the gravel lot. “You tell me to show you? I don’t plan on holding anything back.”

The car gleamed in the late sun, heat rolling off the hood, and he opened her door first — not with fanfare, just with a steadiness that said this is mine now: making space for you. When she slid in, dripping saltwater and sand, he didn’t complain. Didn’t even blink. Just shut the door gently, circled to his side, and dropped into the driver’s seat like he’d been waiting years for this exact ride.

The engine purred to life. Windows down. The smell of brine and cinnamon still clung to the air between them as the cliffs slipped away in the rearview mirror.

Kai drummed his fingers against the wheel once, glanced over, and caught her profile — curls wild, lips salt-slick, the edge of a smile tugging even though she was trying hard not to let him see it. God, she was beautiful. Not in the stage-lit, camera-ready way the world thought it owned. But like this. Barefoot, wrecked, radiant.

He reached across the console, sliding his hand back into hers, thumb brushing that damp strip of skin at her wrist. “So… mini golf, churros, and a dip in the Pacific,” he said, easy and warm, the dimple flashing with just enough mischief. “Not bad for a first date back, huh?”

He let it hang a beat before turning his head, giving her that Joe-Jonas brand of playful-suave that wrecked her when they were twenty and, apparently, still worked now. “But don’t get too comfortable. This is just me stretching before the real game. You told me to show you, Rae… and trust me—” his eyes lingered on hers a moment too long, voice dipping low, velvet-smooth, “—I’ve barely started.”

He gave her hand another squeeze, the Malibu coastline unfurling golden ahead of them, and for the first time in forever, he wasn’t thinking about what came next. He was thinking about this.

Her.

Always her.