I didn't know you could die and be reborn in the same heartbeat, that someone can wreck you and make you whole in the same breath. Tears spill sideways, burning down my temples. I'm happy. God, I'm so fucking happy it hurts.
"Emma?" His voice is breathy and rough, his chest heaving against mine.
I blink through the blur, returning to myself while Ben's holding me. He's still buried deep inside me, his gaze warm as he thumbs away my tears.
"Yeah?" I givehim an absolutely undone smile.
A ragged breath tumbles out of him, something raw flickering across his face before he forces it away, and he smiles, too.
"Nothing," he says, like he meanseverything.
He moves with a sudden surge of restless energy, his mouth grazing the inside of my thigh, sticky from both of us, and he pulls me up to run with him.
Splash. The water shocks me back to earth, cold biting against my overheated body, and a gasp rips free as I surface.
Ben takes a few laps around, then treads in front of me, his chest gleaming in the pool lights like a work of art.
"Should we be doing this?" I drift closer.
He shrugs. "Let's misbehave. Just a little."
"Misbehave is your middle name." I shake my head, smiling and flicking water at him. "Thought you didn't swim."
He gives me a pointed look. "That was before I heroically dragged your dramatic ass out of the ocean."
I roll my eyes. "I already said sorry. Twice. That's apparently historic for me."
"Sorry doesn't cut it when I almost watched you drown," he says, a shadow cutting through the playfulness before he drags in a breath and gestures around. "This isn't even deep."
"Yeah—if you're a giant," I mutter, not brave enough to stand flat-footed.
His grin crooks, dirty. "Lucky you, then."
My eyes drop down, catching him through the shimmering water, and widen.
Does water distort things? Definitely lucky me.
"I think I need a lifeguard around you," I say, kicking off as he lunges for me. Surprise—he hates swimming but somehow he's faster, hauling me against him, his mouth crashing over mine.
The city lights blaze around us, high-rises awake, but in this chlorinated little world, it's just us, roaming like two teenagers at heart, stealing back that summer when they had their first time—a summer that should never come back. Except with him, it does.
"Promise me something," Ben says, once he finally lets go of my mouth and lets me breathe.
"Depends what it is."
His eyes narrow and he shakes his head, like it's non-negotiable. "Promise."
I exhale loudly. "Fine."
"No more games," he says, thumbs brushing my arms. "No running, no hiding. I want everything you're feeling. Always."
"That's—"
"A lot," he jumps in, nodding. "I know. But we need honesty between us. Even the screwed-up bits you never tell anyone. I want to know."
"But I don't always know what I feel, and you know that."
“That’s fine,” he says, pulling me toward the shallows until my toes skim the tile. His voice is calm, but resolute. “Then say it. Say you don’t know. I’ll live with the truth, not excuses.”
