She sighs, sleepy. “I should probably get out before I turn into a prune.”
But she doesn’t.
Her fingers trail through the water instead. Her knee drifts closer. She’s watching the surface like it might give her instructions.
My hand flexes on the edge of the tub.
I could touch her. Pull her in. Find out what she sounds like when she wants.
Every instinct I have says yes.
Then—just for a second—I see her from earlier. Pink-cheeked. Honest. Saying she’s never been on a date.
That’s the only thing that stops me.
“Probably wise,” I manage, because if I don’t speak, I’m going to act.
She nods and finally stands, water sliding off her skin. My brain shorts out completely. I tilt my head back and study the stars like they’re a lifeline while she grabs her towel.
“You coming?” she asks, voice a little rough.
“In a minute,” I barely manage to rasp. “Need to cool down.”
She smiles, soft. Heads for the door. Then pauses.
“Kieran?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks. For inviting me. For…this.”
“Anytime, Rules.”
She disappears inside.
I sink deeper into the water, letting the heat burn, pulse still racing.
I’m completely fucked.
By the timeI finally drag myself inside, the cabin is quiet. Lights are off except for the glow from the dying fire. Everyone’s gone to bed.
After a quick shower, I crash on the couch and stare at the ceiling. The cushion dips wrong. No position feels comfortable. Every time I close my eyes, she’s there: dark eyes, quiet smile, bare skin, a calm voice saying she’s never been on a date.
It shouldn’t hit this hard. But it does.
I’ve kissed girls, dated a few, slept with more than I should’ve. None of them ever made me feel this way: half strung, half sane, completely wrecked by the idea of being her first anything.
A soft creak from upstairs. Then light footsteps on wood.
She appears at the edge of the room, wrapped in a hoodie that swallows her whole, dark hair loose and cascading over her shoulders. She stops when she sees me half propped on the couch.
“Can’t sleep?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Too warm. And your friends snore.”
“Liam’s the worst.”
A corner of her mouth lifts. She crosses to the kitchen and opens the fridge. Light spills across the floor, tracing her bare legs and the curve of her neck.
