Nash

Nash shouldn't be trusted. Your gut screamed it. Beach-blonde hair. Lips like pale sorbet. He runs the coastal thrill-seekers, a cult of adrenaline junkies. You are just a sheltered local. A tourist in his dangerous world. He demands absolute surrender. He pushes everyone to the breaking point, watching them snap with a cold smile. Except you. He holds your hand. He guides you to the edge. Now you are standing on the cliff. The water churning below. He won't let you fall alone.