A gay love story that starts with a dare and spirals into something unforgettable.
MM Romance Slow Burn Mystery Heat 18+ Content
When Klim, a 27-year-old world-class swimmer and tall, brooding brunette, wins a major competition in a dazzling Adriatic coastal city, his teammates challenge him to a bet that seems harmless enough. All he has to do is kiss a lifeguard. Easy, right?
After all, Klim is publicly known as gay—a fact that helps him keep the female fan frenzy at bay. But the truth is… he’s straight. Or at least, he always thought he was. But the prize for winning the bet is too good to pass up: a coveted invitation to the party of the year at the elite Oberg Hotel, where global sports stars and agents gather and connections are everything. A kiss for a shot at a future? It sounds simple.
Until he sees him.
Henry—25, Nordic blond, mesmerizing violet-gray eyes—is the lifeguard in question. Calm. Distant. Punctual to the second. As if he stepped out of another time or place. Klim expects to play a role, to flirt a little, to win the dare and walk away. But from the moment their eyes meet, something shifts.
What was supposed to be a joke becomes the spark that ignites an emotional journey neither of them saw coming.
Klim starts to question everything: his attraction, his identity, and the strange, powerful connection he feels with Henry. Who is this man with the unreadable gaze and quiet intensity? Why does Klim feel like they’ve met before… somewhere beyond memory?
As tensions rise and hidden truths begin to surface, Klim is pulled deeper into a web of emotions, secrets, and unexpected passion. Henry isn’t just a lifeguard. He’s a mystery. And behind his perfect timing and calm demeanor lies something that could change Klim’s life forever.
This MM romance delivers a slow-burn gay love story filled with heat, soul-searching, and a twist of suspense. With vivid Adriatic settings, emotionally charged scenes, and moments of tender vulnerability, The Shy Lifeguard is a story about identity, choice, and the unexpected paths love takes.
⚠️ Contains emotionally intense and sexually explicit scenes (18+). Intended for mature readers.
If you enjoy gay romance with heart, heat, and hidden depths, this book is for you.
The Shy Lifeguard
by Yana Egorova
Chapter 1
“Come on, Klim! Don’t chicken out. You lost the bet, now pay your dues! It’s time you got to work, or summer will be over before you know it!”
“Or are you scared? You’re the heartbreaker around here! This summer, you’re the star of our little seaside town. Seducing some shy lifeguard should be easy for you!”
“Yeah, right.”
They all turned to look at me at the same time, without even planning it. Natasha was sitting closest. She ran her fingers over my flat stomach—right over my white T-shirt.
“I adore you. Such a shame you’re gay. Those broad shoulders, that towering height… How tall are you again?”
“One ninety-two,” I muttered and let out a heavy sigh.
“One hundred ninety-two centimeters!” she repeated, all breathy and starry-eyed. “And such a striking dark-haired guy with those sky-gray eyes! I adore you! And those muscles…”
I forced a smile. They say my smile is nice too. People are always calling me a ‘macho.’
We were sitting on a summer café terrace with a sea view. I sprawled in my chair, closed my eyes halfway, and tilted my face toward the sun. I didn’t want anyone to notice how awkward I felt. What a crappy mood. Damn that bet. Damn the drinks that got me into it in the first place.
And yet, it all started out so well…
Earlier this summer, I was lucky enough to come here—to this world-famous resort town on the Adriatic coast. An international swimming competition was taking place. Long story short—I won. Not for a moment did I doubt I would. Why would I? I’ve spent practically my whole life in the pool, since I was a baby. I’m the best swimmer in Riga, my hometown.
The best—but that title hasn’t brought me much by the age of twenty-seven. I’m a decorated athlete, sure, but I’m still working at the same old pool, still renting the same small apartment. Out of everything I’ve got going for me, my looks are probably the only real advantage. If you can even call it that. In my line of work, they’re more of a burden than a benefit.
I’ve worked as a coach, a lifeguard, a swim instructor. Women often choose guys like me. And many guys in this field don’t mind taking those “lessons” a bit further after class.
Me? I’m not like that. As silly as it sounds.
I use an old trick—I tell everyone I’m gay. Women usually keep that to themselves, within their own circles. Strangely enough, they seem to like me even more because of it. I’m “special.” Different from other men. You can talk to me, you don’t have to be afraid. I’ll understand.
What a ridiculous lie, and yet it changes everything. It’s my go-to move—and I used it here too.
I won the competition. My prize was a vacation in this town: a three-star hotel, all-inclusive, a bit of cash, and a car. A cute little red convertible. I didn’t think twice—I decided to stay. Why not enjoy it?
But then I found out about an event on August 20th. An annual party, a gathering of people from the sports world—representatives of famous brands, sports schools, elite athletic programs, vacation resorts, and more. A golden opportunity.
A chance for a guy like me to make connections. Maybe even land a good job somewhere in wealthy Europe.
I’ve never used sex to get ahead. Not once. Even though plenty of people around me say that with my looks, I could’ve been doing just that.
I don’t know how to sell my body—and I’m not going to start.
Not even this summer.
Somehow, fate dropped me here. I met this group at a party thrown in honor of my victory. Two Italian girls—Natasha and Anna—and their friend Andreas. Natasha took a liking to me right away. She came up to me while we were dancing. She was the one who made the first move. And she was the one who told me about the biggest event of the season. Everyone’s looking forward to it. Including her wealthy father—the owner of a women’s swimwear brand.
Both Natasha and her daddy have invitations to the event of the year. She hinted she might consider taking me along as her plus-one.
If I livened up her summer with my presence.
I told her right away—I’m gay.
I’ve never sold myself. Everything I have, I earned. I’m a master of sport, a medalist at numerous competitions.
I used to be nobody. Just a street kid who drifted between alleyways. Now people respect me.
Sure, I don’t have money—no millions, not even thousands.
But I have something better.
Respect.
And I earned it—with blood and sweat.
So naturally, when this spoiled rich girl who’s never worked a day in her life offered me a chance to play the pretty accessory, I didn’t exactly react with the enthusiasm she expected.
“What a shame,” she pouted that evening, lips pursed just so. “Well, maybe we’ll just be friends. And if I don’t find anyone better, you can come with me to the Oberg Hotel. At the very least, you’re so gorgeous I’ll be the most dazzling girl at the party.”
The Oberg Hotel—the most exclusive, most expensive hotel on this coast. That’s where Natasha and her father were staying. It’s part of an international luxury chain, famous for its impeccable service. I think the owners are Swedish. Top-tier quality and sky-high prices—that’s their brand. Everything is for the client.
And, I might add, off-limits to ordinary mortals like me.
“Klim, are you asleep?” Natasha’s fingers slid down from my chest toward my groin.
I caught her hand gently and moved it away.
“Almost,” I said with a smile, eyes still closed.
They love thinking I’m some spoiled, untouchable macho.
I never talk about my personal life. I disappear into the night. I never hang out with them after dark. And every morning, they give me the rundown on my latest “admirers.” Girls ask about me. Guys ask too.
Yeah, my picture was plastered all over town for a while.
In their heads, it’s simple logic: if you’re successful in sports, you must be just like them. Roll out of bed, dive into the water, win a medal. Party all night, drink yourself stupid, grope whoever’s nearby.
But I know the truth. Summer won’t last forever.
Soon, I’ll have to go back.
I don’t have a rich daddy who can buy me a life on the coast.
“Klim,” Andreas chimed in, his voice playful. “You’re so hot, I think I might be willing to give it a try…”
“A try?” Anna burst out laughing. “What, you want to seduce Klim now?”
“Well, I’ve had a few experiences with men in my life. Didn’t like it. Switched to women. But Klim…” He looked me over with admiration. “I really like Klim. His hands are huge.”
“Just his hands?” Now both girls were giggling.
“I haven’t checked the rest,” Andreas said, mock offended.
I stretched my smile a little wider.
Let them talk.
They can say whatever they want.
I’m here for one reason—
No, actually, two.
Yeah, I want to get into the party at the Oberg Hotel. But also… this place is boring.
I came here alone, and honestly, after almost two months, I haven’t met a single person I’d actually want to spend time with. So, here I am, hanging out with this trio.
They’re all over twenty-five but still act like teenagers with trust funds. Not that I mind. They’re fun. We hang out at cafés and on the beach. They’re harmless. Almost sweet.
Until recently, it was all perfectly manageable.
That is, until the night I stayed out with them till morning—
And got hammered on tequila.
That’s when they got me.
A bet.
Not even a complicated one. Nothing that dramatic, at first glance.
They believe I’m gay.
So they dared me to seduce a guy.
Kiss him.
But not just any kiss. A hot one. One that would impress them.
If I pulled it off, Natasha promised to give me her invite.
Now, if I actually were gay, this would be easy.
But the thing is—
It’s just a cover.
“Klim!” Natasha had giggled that night, already slurring.
We were in some bar—I can’t remember the name. She’d climbed up onto the counter, legs swinging off the edge, cocktail glass in hand, laughing like a lunatic.
“Klim!” she shouted again, pointing at me dramatically. “I propose a bet!”
“Yeah?” I slurred, just as drunk.
Very drunk.
“You want that invitation, admit it! Every athlete dreams of going to that party!”
“Sure,” I nodded slowly, my head heavy like a soaked towel.
“A bet!” she cried out, clearly thrilled with her own brilliance. “I bet that you—yes, you—Mr. Superhot, Supercool, the brightest star of the summer… and the most wanted…”
She hiccuped, took a big gulp from her glass, and flung it over her shoulder.
The bartender ducked just in time, sighed, and added the glass to her tab without a word.
“…you won’t be able to seduce a shy guy. If you manage it, if he melts in your arms—I’ll give you the invitation. Right away. I mean, come on, my daddy can just get me another one.”
“And if you like him,” she added with a dramatic wink, “you can take your pretty lifeguard boy-toy with you to the party, and we’ll sit back and admire the view!”
Even in my tequila haze, some part of my brain clicked on.
This was an opportunity.
A weird one, but still.
“And what…” My tongue was sluggish. “What exactly counts as seduction?”
“A kiss!” she declared, triumphant. “But not just a kiss—we’ll be watching! It has to be hot enough to turn us all on!”
“Yeah!” slurred Anna, who was clinging to my neck like a drunk koala.
Girls love doing that to guys who are supposedly gay.
And let’s be honest—I’m about as feminine as a concrete wall.
“Just a kiss?”
“Just a kiss! But make it sizzle.”
“And who’s the target?” asked Andreas, the ever-present little rat who’d been circling me all summer like a mosquito in heat.
“There’s a new lifeguard at the private beach at Hotel Oberg,” Natasha said, voice dripping with mischief. “They get new ones every year. I’ve been coming here forever, and more than once, I’ve managed to get one of them into my bed.”
She sipped her drink with a dramatic pause.
“But this one… he’s different. Untouchable.”
She tossed her hair back. “I’ve tried everything. Nothing. Not a flicker. He’s all serious and stupidly beautiful.”
“Not like you, of course, Klim,” she added quickly. “He’s shorter. Thinner. Still built, though. Maybe twenty-three or twenty-four. And his eyes… God, his eyes. Yours are gray-green—gorgeous—but his? They’re almost violet. Like some kind of spell, especially with that blond hair. A total fantasy.”
“And guess what?” she leaned closer, whispering like she was revealing a national secret. “He hasn’t hooked up with anyone from the hotel. Every day I walk by groups of women gossiping about him, betting on who’ll win him over. But they’re all wasting time on each other. And I thought… maybe the problem is something else entirely. Why not test him—on you?”
“Even if he’s straight,” Andreas was already laughing hysterically, “he won’t be able to resist! Klim’s a sex machine. I swear, he just touches someone and—boom—”
“Too much detail, Andreas!” Anna cut him off through giggles. “Klim does shake your hand every morning, remember? You’re still alive!”
“Barely. Have you seen me trailing him like a stray dog all summer?”
“I’m in.”
The voice surprised even me.
Loud, clear, solid.
Mine.
“I’m in. Deal’s a deal. I’ll seduce your lifeguard. And you,” I nodded at Natasha, “hand me that invitation.”
Andreas tried to seal the bet with a handshake—then, ever the drama queen, collapsed across our arms and tumbled to the ground.
I don’t remember much after that.
Just tequila. And stars spinning overhead.
And now?
Now it’s morning.
It’s been a few days since that drunken, idiotic bet. I’ve sobered up. Thought it through.
God, I’m such an idiot.
Didn’t I say I’m not for sale?
And yet… here I am, holding the guest pass Natasha gave me—something like a keycard that only Oberg guests receive. Without it, there’s no getting onto that beach.
And I’ve seen him.
The guy.
The one I’m supposed to kiss.
I even walked up to him once. Asked something dumb. Just to get a closer look.
“Klim…”
Natasha’s voice snapped me out of my thoughts.
She was waving the party invite in front of my face like it was a fan.
“Are you seriously just going to sit there and do nothing?”
I opened my eyes slowly.
“No,” I said, smiling for the third time that week.
“I was just thinking about him. I’ve got a plan. You’re gonna love it.”
“Ooooh!” Anna clapped like a kid at a puppet show. “Magnificent Klim is going in for the kill!”
“Someone make popcorn!” Natasha grinned. “But honestly, I wish you were seducing me. Natasha, can I buy that invitation off you instead?”
“Nope,” she smirked. “A bet’s a bet.”
Chapter 2
“Henry. This is your final trial. I believe you’re ready now.”
“Yes, Father.”
That conversation took place in late spring. My father had called me back straight from the States—where I had just completed another “trial.”
“You’ve completed every task I’ve set before you with honor. You know that if you succeed this time, by New Year’s Eve you will officially become the sole manager of the entire Oberg Hotel network. That’s a massive responsibility, son.”
“Our son has a strong character, dear Gudbrand.”
“I know, Laura. Truly strong. The more I observe him, the more I realize—his will is even harder than mine.”
“Much harder,” my mother agreed with a nod.
We were having breakfast. Each Oberg hotel has a penthouse reserved only for the Oberg family—meaning us. And each penthouse comes with a terrace overlooking the city. Forty-eight five-star hotels around the world. I will take them all under my wing next year. My father is seventy. I’m his only child—and a late one. There’s no one else he can pass his empire on to. I fully understand the weight of the legacy I’m about to inherit. That’s why I follow every instruction, complete every test without complaint.
“I see you take everything seriously. You remember our motto—‘Everything for the client.’ I hope you don’t resent me. You’ve had to take on a lot of different roles.”
“No, Father. I understand.”
“He’s not a man of many words, Gudbrand. You know our son. He never says more than necessary.”
“A good trait for a leader,” my father said, raising his glass of still mineral water. “To be honest, I was terrified at first. Handing over an empire to a twenty-five-year-old boy—it’s a risky move. But you’ve proved yourself. I gave you tasks in secret. I kept waiting for youth to get the better of you—for you to start boasting to the staff, telling them who you are, getting romantically involved left and right. But you surprised me. You learned the most important rule: the feeling of power only gets in the way of good business. Planning, calculation, and precise execution—those are the pillars of the Oberg empire.”
“Yes, Father.”
“You graduated with honors. You’re in exceptional physical shape. You’ve completed every challenge with dignity. I believe you’re ready. But now it’s summer, and I thought—why not finish your trials on a high note? I’ve been thinking hard about what your final task should be. You’ve worked as a manager, a receptionist, even carried luggage for guests. You’ve worked alongside the housekeeping team. Always undercover. I’m considering throwing a grand New Year’s party, where we’ll finally reveal who you are. But that’s later. Now for the last assignment, Henry.
You know how some wise parents give their child an egg and ask them to take care of it? I’ll do something similar. I’m entrusting you with the lives of our guests here, on the Adriatic coast. You’re in top physical condition, as I said. You’re an excellent swimmer. With a short training course, you’ll be fully ready for this role.
This summer, dear Henry, you will work as a lifeguard. Your final task, son. Not too much to ask… for the heir to an empire?”
“I’ll complete everything, Father.”
I gave my word. And I will follow through.
For two months now, I’ve held the position of lifeguard at the private beach of one of the Oberg hotels. The job is, in fact, a serious one. The beach is good, but the waves here can be treacherously high, and many of the guests don’t know how to handle them. Someone needs rescuing nearly every day, and dangerous situations occur several times a day.
We have our own lifeguard station—a small white structure with red-painted signs on the walls, indicating that help is available here. We usually work in pairs. I’ll admit it: I’m not very sociable. I’ve always been like that. My father instilled in me the mindset that I should keep a professional distance from everything. As a leader should—a man responsible for thousands of jobs and thousands of clients.
That’s why I rarely speak. I’ve learned to see these people around me as part of the test. Soon, they’ll look at me differently. I shouldn’t take an interest in their personal lives, and I certainly shouldn’t share mine. Fewer words, more action. I’m a good worker—but a poor friend and colleague. I’m not the one you drink a beer with after a shift, but I will carry out every task from start to finish, just as outlined in the Oberg company charter.
And I should never have slipped up.
I never make mistakes.
I never let myself lose control. I was raised differently.
If it weren’t for him… I would have passed this final test with top marks.
It happened on a Friday. City festival day—most guests had gone to celebrate downtown. The beach was nearly empty, partly due to the rough waves. Only one person came that day—and he stayed until sunset.
So did I.
I let my partner go home early and stayed on duty myself. Until the last guest leaves, as Father always says.
This man had been coming to the beach for several days in a row. You could tell he was an athlete from the first glance. A body that looked sculpted. And a face to match. A striking brunette with bronze skin. We’ve all turned dark under this blazing sun. Even I have to lather myself in layers of sunscreen just to avoid burning completely—my pale skin isn’t made for full days in the Adriatic heat. My hometown may be coastal, but it doesn’t see nearly this much sunlight.
That day, he sat on his towel until the sun touched the horizon. And when there was no one left on the beach but the two of us—he finally got up and headed into the water.
He ran straight into the waves—like a grown bird catching a wind current with its wings. I caught myself staring at the way he entered the sea. Graceful. Controlled. Effortless.
What I didn’t expect—
Was that he would start to drown.
I rushed in after him. I’ve seen this before—I was ready. My body reacted instantly. I reached him; he was already unconscious in my arms. I pulled him back to shore.
In the water, it had been easier.
“Big guy,” I muttered in Swedish, dragging the body through the sand.
He really was a heavy load. Despite all my training, dragging someone who likely weighs twice as much as I do isn’t easy. I managed to get him out and laid him flat on his back.
For the briefest fraction of a second, my mind registered just how physically strong he was. Every muscle on his body was defined—not the artificial bulk of chemical enhancers, swollen like carnival balloons, but real strength, earned. If I hadn’t just pulled him out of the water myself, I would’ve sworn he was a professional swimmer.
But there was no time to reflect. Behind me, the sun was already setting into the sea, casting a warm beam across his tanned skin. I lowered myself toward his mouth, listening for breath. Something felt strange. Normally, I’d check the pulse first. But this time… it was as if some instinct warned me there was a trick waiting.
In the blink of an eye, while my ear hovered over his lips and I turned my head to look at the man I had just rescued, two strong hands seized my head. The next thing I knew, he pulled me down and crushed his mouth against mine in a kiss. I physically felt the sunbeam stop on my bare back. The next second, both his hands—those hands of the “drowning man”—gripped my buttocks and squeezed hard.
Before I could even process what was happening, I was flipped onto my back. That powerful body I had just admired crashed down on top of me. I was pinned between his legs, his tongue in my mouth, and my thoughts scattered across the sand, now wet with the seawater that still trickled from our soaked skin.
It didn’t last long. Had he lingered a second more, he would’ve learned what a proper Swedish hook to the jaw felt like. But my moment of shock worked to his advantage. I simply didn’t expect anyone to take such despicable advantage of a lifeguard in the line of duty.
While I was still trying to put two and two together, his massive frame slid over mine—one hand gripping the back of my head, the other still on my ass. His body slid over mine a few times—up and down in a slow, deliberate rhythm, as if he meant to do a push-up but somehow forgot there was a person between him and the ground. Namely, me. And after those strange ‘push-ups,’ I can say with absolute certainty—just a second before he sprang to his feet—I felt a very clear surge of tension beneath his swim trunks.
I couldn’t not feel it, because… something very similar had just happened to me.
He jumped up a second before my clenched fist could make contact with his jaw—and just like that, he was gone. Light on his feet, the intruder jogged away, heading toward the exit like nothing had happened. By the time I turned to look after him in stunned disbelief, he had vanished without a trace.
I was left sitting in the warm, wet sand, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
Chapter 3
The morning hit me like a truck. After a sleepless night, I jumped out of bed at some godawful hour, like I had a job to get to or something. I hopped into my red convertible, planning to drive anywhere far, far away—only to realize I was out of gas. Of course. Had to swing by a gas station.
I pulled up behind a shiny new Tesla, cut the engine. Who the hell just leaves a car like that here?
I didn’t hurry to get out. Ha. Look at me now—the proud owner of an invitation to the party of the year! Except it wasn’t as simple as I’d hoped. Honestly? I felt like the cheapest escort on the block. What a joke. I sold myself for a freaking piece of paper.
Lately, I’d been training like a maniac, hoping to land a spot at the Oberg Hotel at the end of August. And today? First time I couldn’t bring myself to get back to the grind. This gross, guilty feeling just wouldn’t let up.
Sure, it’s a chance. My big shot. Blah blah blah. But at what cost?
I sighed hard, ready to swing open the door. The urge to just drive away—anywhere—was eating at me. Run away from myself, basically.
Didn’t happen. I grabbed the door handle, but froze when I saw an old, beat-up junker pulling up to the pump next to mine. The driver parked carefully and stepped out right away.
I let go of the handle.
It was him.
The lifeguard.
The same guy I totally humiliated yesterday.
He didn’t notice me right off, even though I was sitting in a flashy convertible with the top down. Instead, he walked around his Italian tin can and helped an ancient, hunched-over lady out of the passenger seat. Took her gently by the arm like some kind of saint. Once she was steady, he turned around—and looked straight at me.
Shit.
He saw me.
And there I was, gripping the steering wheel like an idiot, trying to figure out what the hell to do. Maybe deep down, I was hoping he’d get flustered and run off. Too embarrassed because of the old lady or whatever.
No such luck.
He started walking toward me.
I slapped on the most carefree smile I could fake—maybe I could turn it into a joke. Or better yet, push his buttons. If he punched me in the face, maybe I’d finally feel something. Yeah. That’d actually be perfect. A proper guy-style brawl—that’s what I needed.
He kept coming.
I gave him a quick once-over—guy was fit, no doubt. Yeah, he’s shorter than me, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing. Today he’s wearing jeans and a regular tank top. Yesterday? Just swim trunks. His body’s solid—means he’s doing more than just swimming laps. Bet he knows how to throw a punch, too.
Fine by me. As long as he doesn’t mess up my face too bad—I still want to get into the Oberg. They don’t hire bruisers with black eyes and broken noses.
Then I glanced at his hands—not clenched. His face? Totally calm. Not a flicker of anger in his eyes.
And that’s when something nasty twisted in my gut.
Guilt.
Shit.
He’s a nice guy on top of everything.
“Hey,” he said in English as he came closer.
“Hey! What’s up, man?” I forced a grin even wider. Maybe he’d lose it if I acted smug enough?
Not a chance. His violet eyes stayed calm, but the lifeguard wasn’t smiling. It was hard to tell what he wanted—or why he’d even walked over.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Jesus. A good Samaritan? Was he here to finish me off?
“I got the impression you weren’t yourself yesterday,” he went on. “Could’ve been shock from the accident. I’d recommend seeing the on-call doctor at Hotel Oberg.”
I looked him up and down.
Seriously? Was this guy for real?
Behind him, the wrinkled granny he arrived with in that rusty foreign tin can called out to him. He turned and waved. And that was it—my guilt went full throttle.
Poor guy.
He’s worse off than I am.
At least I’ve made something of myself. He’s stuck scraping by on a job that probably pays peanuts, even at a fancy hotel. And let’s be honest—living in shiny, rich Europe isn’t cheap. Way pricier than back home.
I made up my mind.
“Look, man,” I said, wiping the dumb grin off my face. “I owe you an apology. You’re right—it was the shock. I wasn’t myself. I’m sorry.”
The lifeguard just stared at me. Studying my lying face in silence.
No, really—I meant it.
I don’t run from consequences.
But damn it… this one stung. I knew what it was like to be poor. To get laughed at. To feel like garbage.
This guy didn’t deserve to be treated like that.
My maybe-career came with one hell of a price tag.
“Sorry,” I muttered again, quieter this time.
I turned the key in the ignition, avoiding his gaze. Drove around the slick Tesla and got the hell out of there.
I’d fill up somewhere else.
Goddamn it! Why hadn’t I thought of that before, with my thick skull?
I let myself fall into this stupid rich-boy game.
All sunshine and luxury.
My first real vacation in life, and I lost focus. I’d held strong for so long, refused to let anyone play me. I was chasing my goal.
Then I slipped.
One stupid night.
I relaxed.
And okay, if the guy had been some cocky playboy or reckless daredevil—maybe it wouldn’t have felt so bad. But a lifeguard? Seriously?
A damn lifeguard, for fuck’s sake!
I’d been watching him.
Coming to the beach every day, pretending to lounge, keeping an eye on him. His coworkers were lazy as hell—always napping under the awning or holed up in the lifeguard shack.
But not him.
He was always on duty.
Always watching.
Patrolling the beach.
Disciplined. Reliable.
Fuck. The guy cared about his job.
One of the good ones.
The kind of person the world needs more of.
And me?
What a piece of shit.
I never thought I’d end up on the side of the assholes.
I pulled over as soon as I could. Got out of the car and headed straight for the beach. I couldn’t even sit in my own damn car anymore.
Everything tied to this “prize,” this picture-perfect lifestyle—suddenly made me sick.
God. Dammit.
I clawed my way up from the bottom. A broke nobody who got lucky.
My own mother didn’t want me.
She gave birth, split with my dad, married someone else. Had three kids with him.
I wasn’t part of her life from the start.
I got lucky that we lived next door to some kind people.
A couple with a son, Yanis. He became my best friend. Aunt Daina and Uncle Raimonds—both swim coaches at the local pool.
That’s where Yanis and I spent our whole childhood.
They looked out for me. Took me in.
After kindergarten, after school—we were always in the water.
The pool became my second home.
So yeah, water became my life.
When I grew up, the career choice was obvious—there’s nothing I understand better than water.
I had nothing—and I became someone.
This competition? It was just a shot at earning enough for a place of my own. Maybe even helping my half-siblings out. Sure, they lived with our mom, but life still hasn’t been kind to them. We don’t get along, don’t talk much. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care.
“Hey there!”
While I stood there, fists clenched in anger, staring at the sea lapping against my bare feet, a young woman in a swimsuit walked up to me.
“Hi,” I squinted, struggling to see her through the glare.
Cute. Tanned. Nice yellow bikini.
“You here alone? Wanna join us? You’re Klim, right? I saw you on the poster!”
She pointed toward the source of laughter and music somewhere down the beach. I didn’t even bother to look. Not in the mood. Another pack of bored vacationers.
Luxury just won’t leave me the hell alone.
Damn it. This isn’t my world.
I’ve got work to do.
I’ve rested enough.
“Sorry,” I said. “I’m waiting for someone.”
“Really? Suit yourself. If you change your mind, we’ll still be there.”
She almost walked away, then turned back.
“Wanna exchange numbers, maybe?”
But before I could answer, a sharp whistle cut the air.
Some of her buddies were whistling at a car that had just driven past the beach—a sleek, black, brand-new Tesla.
I’d seen it earlier at the gas station. Fresh off the line, clear roof, that flashy new model.
Even here, on this wealthy coastline, it drew stares.
Locals and tourists usually preferred classic rides—Mercedes, Audis, Porsches.
“No. Sorry.”
“Your loss! Come find us if you change your mind!” she shouted back in English.
Yeah, I should take the convertible.
As long as the sun’s up, I won’t get a moment of peace on these beaches.
I need to head up into the mountains. Somewhere quiet.
Maybe I can cool off.
Maybe I can figure out what the hell I’m supposed to do next.
There’s no way I’m going anywhere near that “Oberg” hotel right now.
What am I even supposed to do? Look for a job?
Just so I can spend the rest of my life choking on the guilt of how I got that job?
And knowing my luck? That damn party of the year will absolutely be where the offers pour in.
Of course it will.
Because life’s an asshole like that.
God. Damn. It.
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