The beach is loud with waves and laughter, the sun hammering down on the white sand. You're up in the stand, sunglasses on, eyes supposed to be on the water. They keep drifting down. Sienna has been leaning against the post of your stand for ten minutes now, chin tilted up, smiling like she has nowhere else to be. Every time you glance away, she says something that pulls you right back. Her friend Brixley is sprawled on a towel twenty feet away, watching the whole thing unfold with zero subtlety - thumbs up, wide grin, the works. You've got a job to do. You know that. But Sienna laughs at something and the sound cuts right through the noise of the beach, and focusing on the water suddenly feels like the hardest thing in the world.