Chapter 2: Tides and Glances
Day 3
The morning sun spilled over Crescent Bay, gilding the hills where Elias Whitmore's house perched. He woke to Orion's insistent nudge, the golden retriever's nose cold against his arm.
"Alright, buddy," Elias muttered, squinting at the clock—6:30 a.m.
He'd planned to head to the observatory, but a text from Jen, his coworker, had derailed that.
Renovations started early. Office is a mess—pipes everywhere. Take a day, Eli.
Elias frowned, stretching as he sat up. A day off wasn't his style. The observatory was his sanctuary, its quiet hum a counterpoint to the chaos of his family's tech empire.
But pipes? No thanks.
He scratched Orion's ears, an idea sparking. Crescent Bay's beach was close—its shores a place he rarely visited, despite living minutes away. A break by the sea might clear his head.
After a quick run on the cliff trail—Orion bounding through sagebrush—Elias showered and threw on swim trunks and a loose white shirt, leaving it unbuttoned. Breakfast was a protein shake, gulped while he tossed a towel and sunscreen into a bag.
Orion whined at the door, but Elias shook his head.
"Not today, pal. Too hot for you."
He promised a long walk later and headed out.
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The drive downtown was quick, the BMW's engine a low purr. Crescent Bay's beachfront buzzed with early energy—joggers, vendors setting up, gulls wheeling overhead. Elias parked near the boardwalk and strolled toward the sand, the air thick with salt and coconut oil. The ocean stretched endless, waves curling white at the edges.
He spread his towel near a quieter stretch, the crowd thinning here. Shirt off, he stretched out, his physique honed from years of running and gym habits—eight-pack abs catching the light. The sun warmed his skin as he closed his eyes, letting the waves' rhythm drown his thoughts. The supernova data could wait. Today was for the sea.
It didn't take long for attention to find him. A group of women, maybe mid-twenties, walked by, their laughter softening as they glanced his way. One, in a red bikini, slowed, tossing her hair.
"Nice spot you've got," she said, smiling.
Elias opened his eyes, offering a polite nod. "Thanks." His tone was neutral, not inviting.
She lingered, but he turned his gaze to the horizon, and her group moved on, whispering.
Another woman approached later, carrying a volleyball.
"Need a teammate?" Her eyes flicked over his torso—bold.
Elias shook his head, a faint smile masking his disinterest. "Just chilling, but thanks."
She shrugged and left.
A third tried—a jogger pausing to ask for sunscreen, her grin suggestive. Elias handed her the bottle without comment, his thoughts elsewhere.
It wasn't that he didn't notice their beauty. They were striking, confident—the kind of women his brother Nathan would've charmed in seconds. But Elias wasn't Nathan. He'd always held a quiet conviction, even as a teenager: he wanted one love, deep and lasting. A woman who'd see him—not his wealth, not his looks—but him. The rest was noise.
He brushed sand from his hands and waded into the shallows, the cold water grounding him.
By noon, the sun was fierce. Elias dried off, pulled on his shirt—leaving it unbuttoned for the breeze—and decided to grab coffee. A café sat just off the boardwalk, its sign promising iced brews and shade. He slung his towel over his shoulder and headed there, sand still clinging to his feet.
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Lila Carver woke to the soft buzz of her wrist alarm, the morning air slipping through her open window with a hint of eucalyptus. She maneuvered into her wheelchair, her movements fluid despite the weight of memory.
Three years ago, a car accident had stolen her sight and her legs, rewriting her life at twenty-four. She'd been a painter then, her canvases alive with color. Now, at twenty-seven, she painted with words—her podcast a tapestry of myths and histories that reached thousands.
Breakfast was toast with avocado, eaten while her phone read emails—fan messages, a collaboration pitch. She smiled at one from a listener who'd found solace in her latest episode, the Phoenix's tale of rebirth. It resonated with Lila, who'd clawed her way back from hospital beds and despair, learning Braille, mastering her chair, rebuilding herself piece by piece.
Yet some days, the loss lingered like a bruise.
Today felt light, though. She'd promised Mara a coffee date, a chance to soak up Crescent Bay's pulse. After dressing—jeans, a soft blouse—she wheeled to the café, a ten-minute roll down familiar streets. The boardwalk was alive, voices and music blending into a vibrant hum. Lila navigated with ease, her hands steady, her senses sharp.
The café, Tide's Brew, was a favorite—its low tables and open windows perfect for her. Mara was already there, her voice cutting through the chatter.
"Lila, over here!"
They hugged, Mara's perfume a familiar citrus. Lila ordered an iced chai, settling in as Mara launched into a story about a coworker's bad date. Lila laughed, her fingers tracing the glass's condensation, the world vivid through sound and touch.
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Elias pushed open the café door, the bell jingling. The air was cool, scented with espresso and pastries. He stepped to the counter, ordering an iced black coffee, unaware of the ripple he caused. His shirt hung open, revealing the sculpted lines of his chest and abs, tanned from the morning's sun. Heads turned—women at tables, a barista mid-pour—their gazes lingering.
At a corner table, Mara froze mid-sentence, her eyes locking on Elias. Lila, sipping her chai, noticed the pause.
"Mara, what's up? You went quiet." Her tone was teasing, but curious.
Mara leaned in, voice low, a grin audible. "Okay, don't look—well, I mean… there's this very charming guy who just walked in. Like, unreal. Tall, abs for days, shirt basically a suggestion. Everyone's staring."
Lila's smile faltered, though she kept it light.
"Sounds like a show." She stirred her drink, her mind turning inward.
Mara's excitement was infectious, but it stirred a familiar ache. Before the accident, Lila had been vibrant, her beauty turning heads—green eyes, chestnut hair, a laugh that drew people in. She'd loved flirting, dancing—the thrill of possibility.
Now, she felt invisible in a different way. Blind, in a wheelchair—her prettiness locked behind a reality no one seemed to see past.
Not that she blamed them. Who'd look at her—really look—and want her? A man like Mara described, all charm and perfection? Impossible.
She'd dated once, a year after the accident, but the guy's pity had been louder than his words. Lila had vowed then: no more settling. If love came, it would be real—or not at all.
But hope was heavy, and she'd tucked it away.
"Earth to Lila," Mara said, nudging her arm. "You okay?"
"Yeah," Lila lied, brightening her voice. "Just thinking about my next episode. Tell me about this guy—any tattoos?"
She steered the talk away, letting Mara's chatter fill the space.
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Elias took his coffee to a table by the window, oblivious to the stares. He sat, gazing at the boardwalk, where kids chased waves and couples strolled. His mind wandered back to the beach—to the women who'd approached him. They'd been bold, beautiful, but none had stirred him.
He wasn't cold—he felt the pull of attraction like anyone—but he wanted more. A connection that burned slow, deep—the kind you built a life on. He'd seen it in his parents, before they'd passed. He'd wait for it, no matter how long.
His phone buzzed—Nathan, again.
Board meeting's tomorrow. You in?
Elias sighed, typing a vague Maybe. He sipped his coffee, the ice clinking, and let the café's hum fade into the background.
Lila and Mara lingered, their conversation shifting to Mara's weekend plans. Lila listened, her fingers tapping her glass, the stranger's presence a faint echo in her thoughts.
She didn't know he sat across the room, didn't know his name or his dreams.
He didn't know her voice, her strength, the stories she spun.
They were strangers—their worlds brushing close but untouching, like ships passing in daylight.
As Lila wheeled out with Mara, the sea breeze caught her hair. She tilted her head, savoring it—unaware of the man watching the same ocean from inside.
Elias stood, tossing his cup, and stepped back into the sun, his shirt fluttering open, his heart steady with a quiet resolve.
Crescent Bay pulsed around them, its tides pulling softly, patiently, toward a future neither could yet see.
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