Maggie rolled her eyes, cheeks warming. She could feel Gwen’s attention from the cabana, and that made it worse. “Fine,” she said, dragging the word out. “The rooftop of the parking garage downtown. Happy?”
The plunge pool exploded into shrieks. Kiera covered her face, Danica howled with laughter, Izzy pounded the surface of the water until it splashed.
From the cabana, Pete’s head whipped around. “Excuse me?”
“Legendary,” Izzy said solemnly, still half laughing.
Lillian raised her brows, smirking into her glass. Gwen had gone perfectly still, her face impassive, but Maggie felt the air between them heat anyway. She pushed it further, turning toward the cabana. “Should I tell them about the library stacks, too?”
From the cabana, Gwen’s voice cut through, calm but deliberate: “Why stop there? What about the Ferris wheel?” Her tone was smooth, but the implication was sharp enough to make Maggie flush all over again. The pool crew shrieked even louder, the noise ricocheting off the walls, and Maggie shot Gwen a look that promised revenge. Gwen only raised her glass, unbothered, eyes locked on her.
“A Ferris wheel?” Danica choked. “How does that even work?”
Pete looked like she was considering the physics of the situation.
“We have to up our game,” Kiera joked, and Izzy blushed.
Maggie excused herself from the plunge pool with a laugh, muttering something about needing the bathroom. She slipped through the crowd, dripping and flushed, glad for a moment of escape from all the noise.
But when she glanced back, Gwen was following.
Barefoot, steady, cutting through the chaos with that same focus that made the hairs on Maggie’s arms lift.
By the time Maggie reached the relative quiet near the bathrooms — still buzzing with music and chatter, but private enough — Gwen was there too, close behind. She caught Maggie’s arm before she could duck into the bathroom, firm and unyielding.
And Maggie, chest heaving, had the insane thought that this was what it had always been between them: push, pull, drag, follow.
The air by the bathrooms was cooler, but Gwen’s hands were warm. They stopped just inside the shadow of the stucco wall, close enough that the bass from the pool seemed to vibrate straight through Maggie’s ribs.
Gwen’s voice was low, controlled. “I know what you’re doing.”
Maggie widened her eyes, playing dumb. “Oh? What am I doing?”
Gwen stepped closer, deliberately closing the gap until Maggie’s back met the wall with a muted thud. The stucco was cool against her shoulders, a contrast to Gwen’s warmth pressing in. Gwen didn’t just enter the space — she commanded it, blocking out the entire world’s chatter and the thrum of bass until it felt like there was only the two of them.
Maggie’s breath stuttered, chest rising quick and uneven. Gwen leaned in just enough that her shadow swallowed Maggie’s, just enough that Maggie could feel the heat of herbody without contact. This was how it had always been with Gwen in private — no polite mask, no tidy restraint. Just focus and intensity, radiating so fiercely it made Maggie’s pulse kick like she’d been caught doing something deliciously wrong.
Her fingers twitched at her sides, torn between pushing Gwen back and clutching her shirt to pull her closer. The scent of Gwen’s cologne — clean, sharp, familiar — hit her hard, and every nerve in her body seemed to fire at once.
Her chest rose against Gwen’s, and for a dizzy second she thought this was it — Gwen was finally going to kiss her. Really kiss her. Not for a crowd, but for them. Gwen’s gaze flicked down, lingering at her mouth, and Maggie’s lips parted, ready, aching.
“Do you need me to remind you who’s in control here?” Gwen murmured.
Maggie swore she felt the words low in her spine. Her lips stayed parted, her whole body screamingyes.
Gwen’s eyes met hers again. The faintest curve touched her mouth as she whispered, “Exactly.”
And then she stepped back
Just like that. Gone.
Maggie leaned against the wall, trembling, heart pounding so loud she could barely hear the bass anymore, every nerve raw and furious with need.
By the time she stumbled back toward the cabana, Gwen was already seated, composed, like nothing had happened at all.
Two bottle girls strutted in, heels clicking, bikinis glittering, each with a massive magnum champagne bottle held aloft like Olympic torches. Music swelled as if on cue, and they started shimmying in perfect sync, sparklers blazing from their bottles.
“Compliments of those guys!” one shouted over themusic, gesturing toward the same drunk men that had ordered a champagne spray.
