Chapter 1: Lifeguard on the Weirdest Beach

I have two best friends. One turns into a fox. The other’s half-demon. Welcome to Ashford, Ohio.

That’s not something you hear every day, even in a town as weirdly accepting as Ashford. Most folks here just keep their heads down, pretending the supernatural is comic book stuff. But for me, it’s just…life. We grew up sprinting through backyards, playing tag till the streetlights buzzed on. I never thought the strangest part of my life would be having to choose between them.

One early morning, they both hit adulthood at the exact same time—and suddenly, both needed comfort from a partner. Badly.

Like, burning-up-from-the-inside-out, desperate-for-contact bad. There was no warning—just two panicked texts almost on top of each other, and suddenly I felt like the only lifeguard on a beach full of sharks.

And, somehow, I was their best shot.

Maybe it was fate, maybe just dumb luck, but nobody else could help them. If there was an invisible neon sign over my head, it would’ve flashed: "Emergency Emotional Support Human."

Without a second thought, I left Marcus hanging and rushed to find Derek—the fox shifter—only to stumble into a scene that changed everything.

My sneakers were barely tied. I’d grabbed my hoodie and keys, half-awake, and bolted out the door with Derek’s voice echoing in my mind. But as I swung open the bar’s upstairs lounge, I froze, hidden in the shadows by the pool table.

"Just watch, between me and Marcus Grant, Rachel’s definitely going to pick me. What’s the point of Marcus’s talent? As long as I keep Rachel wrapped around my finger, he’ll always come in second."

It was Derek, slouched in the corner booth, voice dripping with confidence. My mouth went dry, and the taste of old beer and betrayal flooded my tongue. I pressed my forehead to the cool wall, willing myself not to cry, the jukebox croaking out a classic rock song while neon lights flickered over sticky floors and the sweet-sour smell of spilled whiskey filled the air.

"Yeah, yeah, you fox shifters are born smooth. You can’t stand Rachel, but you still sweet-talk her until she’s dizzy. But this time you’re pushing it. If a half-demon goes through adulthood without their partner’s comfort, it could actually kill him. Now you’ve tricked Rachel here—if something happens, it’s gonna be a mess."

The second guy sounded nervous, fiddling with his beer bottle. My breath caught. Kill him? No, that couldn’t be right—could it?

"What’s there to worry about? When the time comes, just throw Rachel under the bus. Who cares about all that ‘destined partner’ stuff? Only half-demons have those gross attachments—low-level creatures, dying is their own fault…"

Derek’s familiar voice was soaked in contempt, cruelty, and smugness.

My hands started shaking so hard I had to brace myself against the wall. The neon lights stuttered through the frosted glass, spinning my world. It felt like my heart just dropped through the floor.

I reached out to steady myself, the world blurring in disbelief and humiliation. A cold sweat broke out down my back. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. This was the guy I grew up with? The kid I thought I knew better than anyone?