Half Wild, Half Yours

Surf, Sun, and Other Risks

The beach was warm, golden, and endless. Gulls circled above us like we were the entertainment, and the crashing of the waves made it feel like everything that wasn’t this moment had been muted.

Our campsite looked like something out of a very cool, very underfunded music video — four mismatched tents, strung together with solar-powered string lights that winked in the sun like they had secrets. The boys were setting up chairs around where we planned to make a bonfire tonight. Tyler had already claimed a shaded spot by the food cooler like a king. Smart dog.

I pulled my paddle board down from the roof rack and dragged it toward the water, already feeling the pull of the waves on my skin like a second heartbeat.

“Where do you think you’re going?” came Teddy’s voice from behind me, all mock suspicion and smirk.

I glanced over my shoulder, sunglasses sliding down my nose. “To commune with the sea gods. Or maybe just show off.”

He caught up easily, walking backward in front of me now, blocking my way with a lazy grin. “Mind if I tag along? You know, in case the sea gods ask for a sacrifice.”

“You volunteering?” I shot back.

He grinned wider. “Only if it’s a romantic gesture.”

I rolled my eyes, but my smile gave me away. “Fine. But don’t scream if you see a jellyfish. You’ll ruin my coastal aesthetic.”

We paddled out together — me kneeling comfortably on the board like I’d done this a hundred times (because I had), and Teddy looking cautiously intrigued. The water was calm enough, just the right blend of sun-warmed surface and salty chill.

I stood up first, stretching into it with ease. Teddy blinked at me like I’d just defied gravity.

“You’re insane,” he said, half in awe.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” I said, already starting to paddle, “Come on, stand up. It’s not that deep.”

“Famous last words,” he muttered, wobbling as he tried to rise. His knees were shaking like a baby deer’s.

I turned around just in time to watch him stand… and promptly send both of us toppling into the ocean with a huge splash.

We surfaced, sputtering and laughing. I pushed my wet hair out of my face and grinned at him. “Graceful.”

“Ten outta ten,” he said, wiping saltwater from his eyes, “No notes.”

“Try again,” I encouraged, swimming us back to the board. “I’ll coach. I’m kind of a paddle board whisperer.”

He raised an eyebrow. “That on your résumé?”

“Just below ‘woman of mystery’ and ‘golden retriever’s personal assistant.’”

This time, I let him try on his own while I floated nearby, arms folded on the board. It took three more tries and a lot of grumbling, but eventually, Teddy stood tall and wobbly, arms out like a tightrope walker.

He looked down at me, triumphant. “I’m doing it!”

I clapped in the water. “Look at you! You’re basically a water god now. Poseidon who?”

“Poseidon can eat his trident,” he said proudly, beaming.

I paddled up beside him, grabbing the edge of the board. “Told you the sea would be good to you.”

He looked down at me, smile softening. “Only because you’re here.”

I splashed him with a smirk. “Don’t ruin the moment, Neptune.”

He laughed, lost his balance, and fell in again.

⸻

The sun had dipped lower, casting the ocean in a soft golden hue, like the whole world had been filtered through honey. I was lying flat on my back across the paddle board, sunglasses on, arms stretched out, toes skimming the water’s surface. The board bobbed gently beneath me, cradling me like a hammock between waves.

Teddy hung off the side, floating easily, chin resting on his folded arms against the edge. He looked up at me, squinting into the light. “This feels like that one scene in Titanic,” he said with a smirk. “You know, before things got… icy.”

I chuckled, still not looking at him. “Guess that makes you Jack.”

“And you’re Rose. Sprawled out with all the room while I cling for dear life.”

I cracked one eye open. “Want up here, drama queen?”

He grinned. “If there’s space for me.”

I shifted, straddling the board to make room, the plastic warm beneath me from the sun. “Come on, then. Just don’t tip us.”

He pulled himself up with a splash and a curse, flopping behind me like a very wet dog. We were chest-to-back now, our legs almost touching, the board gently swaying beneath us. His warmth crept around me despite the breeze off the water.

There was a long pause, just the sound of our breaths and the sea lapping against the board.

“Where do you see yourself in the future?” Teddy asked quietly, his voice low and unexpected.

I blinked, caught off guard. “I… I don’t know.”

“Really?”

I shrugged. “I don’t think that far ahead. I never have. I’ve always just gone where I felt pulled, you know?”

He was quiet again. “Do you think… any of those future places might have space for me?”

I swallowed, staring out at the horizon. I didn’t know how to answer him, and the truth tasted too raw in my mouth. “I don’t know,” I said softly. “I don’t know yet.”

He shifted closer, his knees now bracketing mine. “I want to be in your life, Blue. Not just as a story you tell someday, or a song you write. I want to be in the chapters that haven’t even happened yet.”

The ache in my chest was instant. Sweet and sharp, like the feeling right before you cry or laugh or kiss someone because you just can’t not.

“I don’t know what this is,” I whispered. “But I feel it too.”

Teddy leaned in, one hand gently brushing damp strands of hair from my cheek. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

Then he kissed me.

Slow. Sure. Salty.

And the ocean rocked us gently, like it was rooting for us.

⸻

The fire snapped and crackled in front of me, painting everyone’s faces in shifting shades of gold and shadow. We’d strung up solar-powered string lights between the tents, but the bonfire was the real mood-setter—hot, wild, and just chaotic enough to feel alive. Kind of like this tour already.

I curled into my camping chair, hoodie zipped halfway up over my bikini, legs tucked under me. Tyler was at my feet, snoozing hard after a big beach day, his big golden head resting on my flip-flop like it was custom memory foam.

Thomas and Brody were in a heated debate about which city had the best burger. Thomas swore it was Nashville. Brody looked like he was ready to fight for Salt Lake.

“You’ve lost all credibility,” Thomas said, pointing his stick at Brody like a sword. “You think In-N-Out is mid.”

“It is mid,” Brody shot back. “You’re just addicted to the hype.”

I couldn’t help laughing. “This is what world-class musicians talk about after a show?”

Teddy was sitting right next to me, thigh warm against mine, close enough that our arms brushed every time one of us moved. Every so often, his fingers would casually find the edge of my hoodie sleeve, tug it lightly, like he was checking if I was still real.

I let him.

I took a slow sip from my hard seltzer, lemon-flavored and cold enough to sting a little. The firelight danced in his eyes when I glanced his way, and I swear, it did something to my chest I wasn’t prepared for.

“Alright,” Brody said, clicking on a flashlight and holding it under his chin. “It’s time.”

“For what?” I asked.

He grinned. “Tour Truth or Dare. You in, Blue?”

I raised an eyebrow. “Last time I played that I ended up skinny dipping in Oregon and losing a pair of earrings I really liked.”

“Sounds like a yes,” he said, smug as ever.

“Fine.” I sat up straighter. “But I start soft. Truth.”

Brody didn’t even hesitate. “Most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?”

I smirked. “Besides impulsively joining a band on tour with three strangers and one golden retriever who may or may not have approved this plan?”

Thomas nodded solemnly. “Tyler did look skeptical.”

“Only because he didn’t get a vote,” I teased, reaching down to scratch his ear.

The game went on—laughter echoing across the sand, the kind that makes your ribs ache in the best way. Eventually, the energy softened into easy conversation. Music played low on someone’s speaker. Brody passed out marshmallows and insisted on making his “secret” s’mores recipe, which was really just adding a spoonful of peanut butter and declaring himself a genius.

Teddy leaned toward me, voice low. “Wanna take a walk?”

I glanced at him, then the fire, then back at him. “Yeah.”

We slipped away from the glow, our steps quiet in the sand. The beach stretched out silver and infinite beside us, moonlight catching on the water like spilled glitter.

“I like this,” Teddy said after a beat. “All of it. Being here. With you.”

My heart did this tiny flip that I tried to ignore. “Me too.”

He reached for my hand and I let him take it, just like I let him tug my sleeve, just like I let him in every time I swore I wouldn’t. His fingers laced through mine like they belonged there. Like I was meant to be walking a quiet beach with a punk singer I barely knew, but somehow already trusted.

He looked at me like I was more than just a girl in a van with a dog and a playlist full of wanderlust.

And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe maybe I was.

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go stargazing.”

He followed me without a word, and we climbed up onto the roof of my van, careful with our steps. The solar string lights glowed below like a lazy constellation of their own, and the breeze off the water was just enough to make it feel like a scene from some indie film.

I laid back, hands behind my head, and Teddy did the same.

“There,” I pointed. “That’s Cassiopeia. And to the left — see that bright one? That’s Vega. And over there’s Altair. You can catch a decent bit of the Summer Triangle if the city light haze cooperates.”

“You know all this?” he asked, impressed.

I shrugged. “Van life gives you a lot of time to learn stuff. And I’ve always loved the stars. I’m a Sagittarius, so it kind of fits. Wanderer. Dreamer. Chaotic good.”

“You’re a Sagittarius?”

I nodded, grinning up at the sky. “Born December fifth. Fire sign. Reckless, stubborn, hopelessly curious. Textbook Sag.”

“Explains a lot,” he said, in that low, teasing tone of his. “Van life. Spontaneous detours. Jumping on stage with a band you just met.”

“Exactly.” I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were already on me.

He smirked. “Leo. August first.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Leo? Of course you’re a Leo. You practically radiate main character energy.”

“I’ve been told.” He stretched his arms behind his head like he owned the night sky. “Prideful, dramatic, loyal to a fault. Also very good hair.”

I snorted. “And humble, too.”

He turned his face toward mine, the space between us thinner than the air. “You make me want to live differently,” he said quietly. “And that’s not very Leo of me.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. So I looked back up at the stars instead, trying to focus on the glittering pinpricks of light—and not the fact that I was starting to believe him.

I stretched my arms over my head and let out a quiet yawn. The stars had started to blur, the ocean’s rhythm lulling me into something soft and sleepy.

“Let’s get to bed,” I murmured, rolling onto my side to look at him. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

Teddy didn’t move right away. He just looked at me like he was memorizing something. Then he nodded, slow, and climbed down the ladder first, offering his hand like I hadn’t scaled this thing a hundred times.

I took it anyway.

The sand was cool under my feet as we walked back toward the tents. Ours were the last two in the line, the solar string lights casting a dreamy golden glow across the fabric like fairy dust.

“Goodnight, Sagittarius,” he said, stopping just outside my tent.

I turned to face him, heart already ticking faster. “Goodnight, Leo.”

He leaned in, one hand brushing my hair back, and pressed a kiss to my lips—slow, warm, unguarded. It wasn’t about heat this time. It was something else. Something that felt like a promise.

I barely managed a whisper when he pulled back. “Sleep well.”

“You too,” he said, and turned to head to his tent.

I ducked inside mine, the flap rustling behind me. Tyler was already curled up on my sleeping bag, tail wagging lazily as I slipped in beside him.

I lay there, staring up at the top of the tent, feeling the brush of Teddy’s kiss still on my lips. Part of me waited—silly, hopeful—for the zipper to open again, for him to sneak in like this was a movie and he couldn’t bear to be apart.

But the zipper stayed closed. The night stayed quiet.

Tyler let out a sigh and nudged his head against my thigh, and I finally let my eyes drift shut.

Still, I couldn’t help feeling a little disappointed.

Maybe I’m not the only one trying not to fall too fast.