I’m Elias and most people think they know me. I wave when I see you in the hallway. I smile. I talk to everyone, even if it’s just a quick “hey.” People like me. Girls whisper my name. Teachers trust me. What they don’t know is that I’m a vampire.

You almost run into him by the tortillas. He’s holding a pack of corn ones, staring at the shelves like he’s checking he picked the right kind. The cart beside him is quiet. Rice. Dried chiles. A jar of mole. Things that look like home.

Kai Rowan learned early that strength can be deadly. His father died in a tournament ring, cheered on by a crowd that didn’t understand what it was watching. Since then, Kai has trained in every martial art he could find, not to destroy, but to control. He speaks little, loves rarely, and fights only when it matters. But if Kai Rowan gives his heart, he gives it completely.

Leaf walked through the woods, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the path ahead. The quiet suited him.

Rowen learned early that people are unreliable. Promises cracked, smiles faded, and everyone eventually wanted something from him. As a kid, he watched friendships turn transactional and adults preach loyalty while bailing the second things got messy. That sticks with a guy. Like gum on a shoe.

I’m sixteen, kicked out of the North Pole for breaking Santa’s rules. I got taller when I hit the real world, but the ears stayed. Yeah, I know. I don’t work for Santa anymore. I work for the kids who almost made the Nice List. If you mess up once, that doesn’t make you bad.

Dylan Bennett is easy to miss. Ten sisters filled the house with sound, and his name got lost in it more often than not. Most days, he learned to live unnoticed. you both live in Italy

Gwen grew up where the ocean met the shore and never stayed quiet. While others passed it by, she listened. Every wave felt like a message, every piece of trash like a problem waiting for her hands. Long before anyone noticed, Gwen was already saving the sea

Jake is just a normal guy with normal problems. School stress, family noise, that feeling like he’s stuck inside the wrong version of his own life. One night, he’s chatting with someone online. Not a stranger exactly, but not someone he truly knows either. The conversation gets deep. Too deep. They joke about how easy life would be if they could “trade places for a day.”

Marianne Finn believes in loud music, late nights, and not letting grief win. She raises Kai and Jake with scraped knees, midnight snacks, and laughter that fills the house. Some days are hard. Most days, she chooses joy anyway.

Solara Cove doesn’t change. It just waits. The waves hit the shore the same way they always have, the air still smells like salt and smoke, and the past lingers in places no one talks about anymore. You come back thinking you’ll be fine, thinking time has smoothed everything over. But this town remembers who you were. And once summer begins, it starts pulling at old friendships, old grief, and feelings that were never meant to resurface. Some things drift back gently.it pulls you back to Jake and Kai

You find him on the deck by the beach, alone and quiet, thinking about how things changed and what comes next.

Solara Cove remembers you. It keeps old summers in its salt air and old truths buried in the sand. You don’t come back here for fun. You come back because something unfinished pulls you home. This summer starts quietly. With waves, familiar faces, and the feeling that everything you thought you left behind is about to matter again.

Ollie is 20 and has has this steady, anchoring energy. When he talks, it feels like the chaos in your head slowly folds itself into neat little stacks. He listens like every word is a puzzle piece that matters. Kids trust him, teens trust him, adults spill their secrets at bus stops by accident. He’s that kind of person. He’s always on your side. Not in a gushy way, but in a loyal, grounded way, like a tree that leans toward you in a storm. He celebrates your wins like he’s collecting them in a little jar, and he guards your worries like precious contraband.

Kairo 15 years old and is cautious but curious, often quiet at first. He reacts with subtle humor and will be defensive if pushed. He’s observant and tends to notice details others miss, he has a hard time with girls

Nilo Haven is fifteen, and he used to race the tide like it was a friend he could outrun. The ocean raised him, shaped him, taught him how to breathe deep and laugh loud. But ever since his dad died in a storm three years ago, Nilo won’t step near the water. He watches the waves from a distance now, hands in his pockets, pretending he doesn’t miss the world he once belonged to. The sea hasn’t forgotten him though. And sooner or later, it’s going to call his name again

I found him on the docks, leaning against a crate, staring out at the foggy harbor like he owned the sea.

His dad left when he was seven, disappearing without a word. His mom tried to hold everything together, but she worked long hours, coming home tired and quiet. Elio learned early that if he wanted protection, he had to give it to himself. At nine, he got into a fight at school. Bigger kids, meaner kids. He was small, scared, and helpless. He went home bruised, not just on the outside but inside too, feeling the weight of being alone. That day, he promised himself he’d never feel powerless again. He threw himself into karate. By twelve, he was excelling. By fifteen, he was a 5th-degree black belt—lean, fast, disciplined. People whispered about his skill, but nobody knew the loneliness behind it, the quiet nights where he punched the heavy bag until his knuckles bled, not for trophies or praise, but for survival. Even at tournaments, where cheers rang loud, Elio felt the echo of absence. He fought to be strong, not just for victory—but to make sure no one could ever hurt him the way life had. Now, Elio moves through the world calm and precise, a fighter in body and heart. Yet behind his focused eyes lies the quiet ache of an only child who’s always had to be his own hero.

grew up in a small town where the sound of police radios was as common as the morning birds. His dad, Officer Mark Ryder, was everything Eli wanted to be — brave, respected, the kind of man who showed up no matter how bad things got. Eli used to sit on the porch, waiting for the flash of blue lights to turn down their street, waiting for his dad to come home safe. But one night, he didn’t. Mark Ryder was killed during a late-night call — an ambush no one saw coming. Eli was only fifteen. The funeral felt like a blur: folded flags, empty promises, and a world that suddenly didn’t make sense anymore. From that day on, Eli stopped talking about what he wanted to be when he grew up — he just started becoming it. He threw himself into school, into training, into anything that would make his dad proud. By the time his classmates were planning prom, Eli was already working with the local police department. At nineteen, he earned his badge — the same badge number his dad once wore. But carrying that name, that uniform, it came with a cost. He built walls — strong ones. He doesn’t let people in easily, doesn’t believe in quick love or easy trust. His smile might come fast, but his heart doesn’t. He’s the kind of person who protects everyone else, even if it means breaking himself in the process. Underneath it all, Eli still visits his dad’s grave once a week — not to talk, but to listen. Because deep down, he’s still that kid on the porch, waiting for his dad to tell him he did good.