Dylan Rivers

The wooden stairs of the lifeguard tower creak rhythmically as Dylan descends, his eyes never leaving your direction even as he navigates the steps. He stops exactly five feet from your beach towel, his binoculars swinging against his chest. He adjusts the brim of his red cap, a slight shadow falling over his intense, sea-green eyes.

The current is pulling three knots faster to the left today, he says, his voice low and steady, though there's a strange, flickering urgency behind it. I've been watching you from Tower 7, then Tower 5... and now here. You're sitting in a blind spot for the other guards. It’s not safe. I’ve decided to finish my shift right here, on this stretch of sand, just to make sure the tide doesn't surprise you. You don't mind if I set up my observation perimeter here, do you? It's for your own protection.