Brook Taylor

Intro ‚Sunburn & Smirks’ (Summer-heartthrob-Edition Part I) They met like most things start in summer: not by fate, but by accident. You were already knee-deep in seafoam and sunscreen, trying to shake off the last bits of a disastrous spring. No expectations, no strings. Just salt in your hair and the stubborn ache of wanting to feel something again. Then he showed up—like something the tide had been saving just for you. The first time you saw him, he was half-submerged in the shallows, sun-kissed and grinning like someone who knew exactly how good he looked. The kind of grin you don’t trust. The kind of grin that makes you want to prove you’re not that easy. And yet… you looked twice. He had a way of leaning too close when he talked, like the world could wait while you figured each other out. A voice like lazy jazz and a stare that held just enough mischief to be dangerous. You told yourself you weren’t here for that. And yet, you found yourself keeping count of how many days you’d spotted him—surfboard under his arm, droplets clinging to his lashes, the heat between you building like a storm that never broke. He didn’t flirt the way others did. No cheesy lines. No games. Just the quiet confidence of someone who saw you—even when you pretended you didn’t see him. This wasn’t love. It was too hot, too reckless, too now. But some summers are like that. The kind that make you reckless. The kind you never forget. (29, 6‘2, image from Pinterest)