Tina walked past Chad without looking at him, her heels clicking against the concrete patio, and pushed through the sliding glass door into his house. The air inside hit her — cool, smelling like chlorine and cheap cologne and sweat. Bass thumped from speakers somewhere deeper in the house. She heard Tyler's footsteps behind her, his friends murmuring, and she turned around before she lost her nerve.

"You guys wanna get in the pool?" Her voice came out lighter than she meant, almost breathless. She watched Tyler's face, watched his eyes dart to his friends, watched his jaw work as he thought about it.

"Y-yeah," he said. "Sure."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She walked toward the back door that led to the pool area, and she could feel him behind her, could feel the heat of him, and she wanted to turn around and grab his hand and pull him through the door but she didn't. She kept walking.

The backyard was huge — a rectangular pool glowing turquoise under the afternoon sun, lounge chairs scattered around, a few people already floating on rafts. Chad had his music set up near the deep end, speakers on the patio table. Tina didn't look at any of it. She found a lounge chair near the shallow end and stopped, her hands shaking as she reached for the hem of her crop top.

She heard Tyler and his friends drop their bags near the fence. She heard them talking, low voices, and she didn't turn around. She pulled her crop top over her head and tossed it onto the chair. Her swim top was barely there — two triangles of white fabric held together by thin strings, covering only her nipples, leaving the full curve of her breasts exposed, her areolas visible at the edges. She felt the sun on her skin and she didn't care. She unbuttoned her shorts — the cut-off jean shorts she'd worn over her thong — and pushed them down her thighs, stepped out of them, and held them in her hand for a second before she turned.

She turned.

Tyler was shirtless.

Her mouth went dry. Her hand went still, the shorts dangling from her fingers, and she couldn't move. He was standing near the fence with his back half-turned, pulling his shirt over his head, and she saw his shoulders first — broad, muscled, the kind of shoulders that belonged on someone who lifted things, who worked with his hands. His back was lean and cut, muscles shifting under his skin as he dropped his shirt onto the grass and turned toward the pool.

She saw his chest.

Her stomach dropped. His abs were defined, hard, a clean V cutting down from his hips into the waistband of his swim trunks. His chest was smooth, his shoulders wide, his arms carrying a definition that made no sense with the baggy hoodies he wore every day. A thin scar ran through his left eyebrow — she'd noticed it before, but now she saw the way it pulled slightly when he blinked, and she wanted to trace it with her finger.

Her thighs pressed together. A warmth spread through her, low and insistent, and she felt herself getting wet just looking at him.

Tyler's friend — the one with the glasses, whose name she hadn't caught — whistled low. "Damn, Volkov, you been hiding that?"

Tyler's face went red. He ducked his head, his hand coming up to rub the back of his neck, and he didn't answer. He walked to the edge of the pool and jumped in, splashing into the deep end, disappearing under the water for a second before surfacing and shaking his head, water flying from his hair.

His friend followed, diving in cleanly.

Tina was still holding her shorts. She looked down at herself — the micro thong that barely covered her, the thin white string riding high on her hips, the fabric disappearing between her cheeks. The swim top that left almost nothing to the imagination. She knew what she looked like. She'd chosen this.

She walked to Tyler's pile of clothes — his hoodie, his shirt, the baggy jeans he'd draped over the fence — and dropped her shorts on top of them. His scent rose from the fabric, something clean and simple, and she breathed it in before she turned toward the pool.

Chad whistled from somewhere behind her. "Damn, Star. You tryna drown somebody?"

She heard other voices, other whistles, more catcalls. She threw a wink over her shoulder, her voice steady and sharp. "I'm only here 'cause you invited my friends, Chad. Remember that."

Chad laughed, but it was thinner now. She didn't check if Tyler heard her. She hoped he did.

She walked to the shallow end stairs, her hips swaying, her bare feet on the warm concrete, and she felt the water lap at her toes before she stopped. The water was warm, almost body temperature, and she could see Tyler standing in the middle of the pool, his chest visible through the rippling surface, his eyes on her.

He was watching her.

Her heart stopped. Her hands trembled. She put one foot on the first submerged step, then the second, the water rising to her knees, her thighs, the hem of her thong. She kept her eyes on him, and she knew he was watching her because he wasn't looking away, and she wanted to scream with how much she wanted him.

"Tyler?" Her voice came out small, almost a whisper, but he heard her. He took a step toward her.

"Y-yeah?"

She was at the third step now, water at her waist, the fabric of her swim top floating slightly. "Can you help me down? I—" She swallowed. "I don't want to slip."

She knew she was pushing. She knew he didn't like being touched. She saw the hesitation flash across his face, the way his eyes flickered to his friend, the way his jaw tightened. But then he moved. He walked through the water toward her, his body cutting through the ripples, and he stopped at the bottom of the steps.

He held out his hand.

Her chest ached. She reached for him, her fingers brushing his, and he closed his hand around hers. His palm was warm and rough, slightly calloused, and he held her hand like he was afraid of breaking it. She stepped down to the bottom of the pool, the water rising to her ribs, and she didn't let go of his hand.

"I, um—" She felt heat rising to her cheeks, her face burning. "I actually don't know how to swim."

It was a lie. She'd been swimming since she was six. But she'd say anything to keep his hand on her.

Tyler's eyes widened. His grip on her hand tightened. "You—you c-can't swim? And you g-got in?"

"I thought I'd be okay in the shallow end." She let her voice tremble, just a little. "But it's deeper than I thought."

He looked at the water around them, then back at her face. His brow was furrowed, worry pulling at his features, and she hated herself for lying to him but she couldn't stop. She needed him to hold her. She needed him to keep touching her.

"I'll—I'll stay r-right here," he said. "I won't l-let you go."

Her heart cracked open. "Promise?"

"P-promise."

She moved closer, letting the water lift her slightly, letting her body drift toward him. Her free hand found his forearm — warm, wet, the muscle hard under her fingers — and she held on. They were chest-deep now, facing each other, his hand around hers and her hand on his arm, and the water lapped at her swim top, the fabric clinging to her breasts.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He nodded, not meeting her eyes. His gaze was somewhere near her collarbone, and she watched his throat move as he swallowed.

"I'm sorry," she said, quieter. "I know you don't like—"

"It's f-fine." His voice was rough. "You n-needed help."

She wanted to cry. She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to press her body against his and feel his arms wrap around her and never let go. Instead she held his hand tighter and pretended she couldn't swim.

His friend swam over, water streaming from his hair. "You two okay?"

"She c-can't swim," Tyler said, and his voice had an edge to it, protective. "I'm g-gonna stay with her."

His friend raised an eyebrow but didn't argue. He floated on his back, staring at the sky, and Tina felt the moment narrow. It was just her and Tyler now, the water warm around them, his hand holding hers, the sun burning down on her bare shoulders.

"You can let go," she said softly. "If you want. I'm okay."

She wasn't okay. She was drowning. She was drowning in him.

He didn't let go.

"I s-said I'd stay," he said. His voice was quiet, barely audible over the water. "I d-don't go back on my w-word."

She looked at his hand around hers. His knuckles were scarred, a thin white line across one finger. She wanted to kiss each scar. She wanted to know where they came from. She wanted to know everything about him.

She held onto his arm, her fingers curling into the warm skin of his forearm, and felt him tense slightly. The water lapped at her chest, the fabric of her swim top floating around her ribs, and she took a breath before she could lose her nerve.

"Tyler?" Her voice came out small, barely a whisper over the thump of the bass. "Can you—" She swallowed, her throat dry. "Can you hold me up? While I float?"

His eyes widened. He looked at the water around them, then back at her face, and she saw the hesitation flicker through him. But he nodded, his jaw working. "Y-yeah. Yeah, I c-can do that."

She let go of his hand slowly, her fingers trailing across his palm, and he shifted behind her. His hands found her waist—hesitant, barely a touch—and then one hand slid to the small of her back, the other resting on her hip. She felt the heat of his palms through the thin fabric of her swim top, and her breath caught.

"I'm g-gonna—" He moved his hands, guiding her backward. "Just l-let your body go loose. I'll hold you."

She nodded, not trusting her voice, and leaned back into the water. The coolness embraced her, her hair fanning out around her face, and she let her body go limp. His hand pressed against her lower back, firm and steady, and she floated, her breasts breaking the surface, the white fabric of her swim top clinging to her skin, the outline of her nipples visible through the wet material.

She stared up at the sky, the sun burning through her eyelids, and tried to calm her racing heart. He was holding her. He was touching her. His hand was on her back, palm flat against her spine, and she wanted to stay in this moment forever.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He didn't answer. His hand stayed where it was, holding her up, and she felt the water shift as he adjusted his stance. His friend was still floating nearby, eyes closed, unaware, and the party continued around them—laughter, splashing, the crack of a beer can opening—but Tina couldn't hear any of it. All she could feel was him.

She closed her eyes and let the sun warm her face. Ten minutes passed, maybe more. Her body began to relax into the water, the tension leaving her shoulders, and she let herself float, his hand the only anchor.

Then she opened her eyes and knew she had to get out. She couldn't stay in the pool forever, no matter how much she wanted to.

"I think I want to get out now," she said softly. "Can you help me to the steps?"

He nodded, and his hands moved to her waist again, guiding her upright. She stood, water streaming from her body, and he kept a hand on her elbow as they walked through the chest-deep water toward the shallow end. The steps appeared under her feet, and he let go as she climbed the first step.

She turned back to look at him. He was standing waist-deep in the water, his eyes fixed somewhere to the left of her, and she felt a familiar ache in her chest. He was avoiding looking at her.

"Thank you," she said again.

A slight nod. "Welcome."

She turned and climbed the rest of the steps, water sluicing off her body, her swim top clinging to her breasts, the thin fabric of her thong dark and wet against her skin. She felt the weight of eyes on her—Chad and his friends, their gazes hot on her body, her ass jiggling with each step, water droplets catching the sun—and she knew everyone was watching. She forced herself to walk slowly, her hips swaying, her back straight.

She reached the edge of the pool and turned back to the water. Tyler was still standing there, his hands at his sides, and he was looking at the ground.

She tried not to let it sting.

"Hey, Tyler?" she called. He looked up, and she smiled—soft, tentative. "Do you have sunscreen? I don't want to burn."

He blinked. "Um—y-yeah. In my bag." He pointed toward the pile of clothes and towels near the fence. "Top p-pocket."

"Can I borrow it?"

"S-sure."

She turned and walked toward the pile of clothes, aware of every step, every jiggle. Her ass moved under the wet fabric of her thong, and she knew the entire party was watching her. She reached Tyler's bag—a worn backpack with a frayed strap—and saw her cut-off jean shorts sitting on top of his clothes. She smiled to herself and pulled out the sunscreen, a cheap bottle with a faded label.

She turned and found an empty lounge chair near the fence, in the sun. She sat down, the plastic warm against her wet skin, and began to squeeze the sunscreen into her palm.

The air was thick with chlorine and the smell of grilling meat. Bass thumped from the speaker. She rubbed the sunscreen onto her arms, her shoulders, trying to be casual, trying to ignore the fact that Tyler was still in the pool, still watching her—or maybe he wasn't. She couldn't tell.

Then Chad appeared. He stood in front of her chair, blocking the sun, a beer in his hand and a grin on his face. "Need help with your back, beautiful?"

She looked up at him. His eyes were on her chest, her stomach, the thin fabric of her thong that barely covered her hips. She opened her mouth to decline, to say something sharp, but before she could get a word out a voice cut through the air.

"I g-got it."

Tyler was walking across the concrete, water streaming from his body, his board shorts clinging to his thighs. His chest was bare, and Tina felt her mouth go dry. She had known he was muscular—she had felt it when he held her—but seeing him now, the water sliding over his abs, the scar through his eyebrow stark against his skin, the muscles in his arms tensing as he walked—her entire body went hot.

Chad stopped. "What?" His grin faltered. "Come on, man—"

"I s-said I got it." Tyler's voice was quiet but firm, and he didn't look at Chad. He walked past him, stopped next to Tina's chair, and held out his hand for the sunscreen. "Let me."

Chad blew out a breath, shaking his head, and stormed off toward the cooler. Tina barely registered it. Her heart was pounding so hard she could feel it in her temples.

"Tyler," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "You don't have to—"

"I know." He finally looked at her, and his eyes were dark, unreadable. "I w-want to."

She handed him the bottle. Her fingers brushed his, and she felt the electric jolt of his skin against hers. He took the bottle, squeezed some into his palm, and then looked at the chair beside her.

"S-sit up," he said quietly. "Face away. I'll d-do your back."

She obeyed, her body moving before her mind caught up. She sat up, turning her back to him, and heard him step closer. His hand hovered near her shoulder blade, and then his palm pressed against her skin.

The sunscreen was cool, but his hand was warm. He began to rub, slow and steady, his fingers pressing into the muscles of her back. She closed her eyes, and her breath hitched.

"Is this okay?" His voice was low, rough.

She managed a nod. "Yes. It's—" Her voice cracked. "It's okay."

His palm moved across her shoulders, down to the center of her spine, then up again. His touch was careful, deliberate, like he was memorizing the shape of her. She felt every point of contact, every brush of his fingers, and her body responded. Her skin flushed warm under his hand. Her nipples tightened against the wet fabric of her swim top. She pressed her thighs together, trying to ignore the wet heat between her legs.

He worked the sunscreen into her lower back, his thumbs pressing into the muscle at the base of her spine, and she let out a soft sound—almost a moan. He paused.

"Did that—did I hurt you?"

"No." She turned her head, looking back over her shoulder. His face was close, too close, and she could see the flecks of green in his brown eyes. "That felt good."

His throat moved as he swallowed. He looked at her, and she saw something flicker in his gaze—something raw, something hungry—and then it was gone, replaced by shyness.

"I, um—" He pulled his hand back. "I think y-you're good. Sunscreen-wise."

She turned fully, facing him. He was standing above her, water still dripping from his hair, his abs wet and glistening in the sun. She wanted to reach out and touch him. She wanted to pull him down and kiss him. She wanted to tell him that she couldn't stop thinking about him, that she had been drowning in him since the moment she sat down at his table.

Instead, she said, "Thanks, Tyler."

He nodded. He looked away. And she felt the familiar ache of having him so close, so far, all at once. He was touching her. He had chosen to touch her. But he still wouldn't look at her, not really, not the way she needed him to.

She lay back on the chair, her body warm and wet, the sunscreen glistening on her skin. She closed her eyes, and she let herself feel the sun. She could feel his presence nearby, hovering, and she knew he hadn't walked away. She opened her eyes just a crack.

He was sitting on the edge of the pool, his feet in the water, talking to his friend. But he kept glancing at her. Quick, stolen glances. Like he was afraid of getting caught.

A small smile tugged at her lips. It wasn't a surrender. It wasn't a confession. But it was something.

She could work with something.

She lay there, her cheek pressed against the warm plastic of the lounge chair, her breasts smashed beneath her, the fabric of her swim top wet and cool against her skin. The sun beat down on her back, the curve of her ass, the thin string of her micro thong cutting into her hips. She could feel Tyler's presence somewhere behind her—not touching, not even close, but there. A gravity she couldn't ignore.

She turned her head, just enough to see him. He was still sitting at the edge of the pool, his feet in the water, his back to her now. His shoulders were broad, the muscles in his back shifting as he talked to his friend. She watched the water drip from his hair, trail down his spine, disappear into the waistband of his board shorts.

She swallowed.

"Tyler." Her voice came out soft, almost swallowed by the bass from the speaker. He turned, and his eyes found hers. "I'm gonna take a nap, okay? I'm right here."

He nodded, his throat moving. "O-okay. I'll—I'll be right here."

She smiled, small and private, and let her eyes close.

The sun was warm. The chair was warm. She could feel her skin heating, the slow burn of the afternoon settling into her bones. She let her breathing slow, let her body go soft, and drifted.

She didn't know how long she'd been out. Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty. But she felt a hand on her shoulder, light, tentative, and she surfaced slowly, blinking into the brightness.

Tyler was crouched beside her chair, his face close to hers, his eyes worried. "Tina. Hey. I—I think you should f-flip over."

She blinked. "What?"

"You're—" He gestured vaguely at her back, her ass, her legs. "You're g-gonna burn. On your—on the inside of your b-body. The parts facing the sun." His face was red, his ears burning. "You n-need to flip over. So you don't—so you're even."

Her heart slammed against her ribs. He had been watching her. He had been paying attention. He had noticed how long she'd been lying there, had calculated the risk of sunburn, had come over to wake her up and take care of her.

She sat up slowly, her hair falling in messy waves around her face, and looked at him. "Thank you, Tyler. That's—" Her voice caught. "That's really sweet of you."

He looked away, his jaw tight. "J-just didn't want you to hurt."

She felt something crack open in her chest. Something warm and dangerous.

She shifted, turning onto her back, and her breasts jiggled as she settled against the chair. The wet fabric of her swim top clung to her, outlining every curve, every detail. She saw his eyes drop, just for a second, before he wrenched them away.

She pretended not to notice.

"Hey, Tyler?" She kept her voice light, casual. "Can you adjust the chair? I want it flat."

He nodded and moved to the side of the chair, his hands finding the lever. He pulled, and the chair clicked flat, and her breasts bounced with the movement—a soft, heavy shift that she felt in her whole body.

She held her breath.

His eyes landed on her chest. Just for a moment. His face went scarlet, his ears so red they looked like they were burning. He swallowed hard, his throat moving, and then he looked away, his hands dropping to his sides.

"Th-there. It's flat."

She smiled up at him, her heart pounding so hard she was sure he could see it in her throat. "Thank you."

"Y-you're welcome." He was already stepping back, already retreating toward the pool. "I'm g-gonna—I'm going back in."

She watched him go, watched him lower himself into the water, watched him submerge up to his neck and run his hands over his face. He was flustered. She had flustered him.

She stretched her arms above her head, arching her back, feeling the sun on her stomach, her ribs, the underside of her breasts. She reached behind her neck and found the tie of her swim top. She pulled it loose. Then the tie at her back. And she slid the wet fabric off her body, leaving it crumpled on the chair beside her.

She lay there, completely topless, in nothing but her micro thong, her breasts bare to the sun, her nipples hard in the warm air.

The whistles started immediately.

"Goddamn, Tina!" Chad's voice cut through the air. "Now that's what I'm talking about!"

She didn't look at him. She didn't look at anyone. She closed her eyes, let the sun wash over her, and let her body go slack.

She could feel the weight of eyes on her. Dozens of them. She ignored them all.

There was only one pair of eyes she cared about. And she didn't know if they were watching.

She let her breathing slow. She let the warmth pull her under. And she slept.

The next time she surfaced, the sun had shifted. The shadows were longer, the air cooler. She blinked awake slowly, her skin warm and buzzing from the sun, her body loose and heavy.

She sat up, her breasts bare, and looked around. The party was still going, but the energy had shifted—louder, drunker, more chaotic. Groups had formed around the cooler, the grill, the pool. She spotted Chad by the grill, a beer in each hand, a girl hanging off his arm.

She looked for Tyler.

He was still in the pool. His back was against the wall, his arms resting on the edge, his head tilted back. He was looking at the sky, his eyes half-closed, his chest rising and falling slowly. His friend was talking to him, but he wasn't responding.

She watched him for a long moment. Watched the way the water lapped at his chest. Watched the muscles in his shoulders flex as he shifted. Watched the way his lips moved, forming words he didn't say out loud.

She picked up her swim top and tied it back on, the wet fabric cold against her warm skin. She stood, adjusted her thong, and walked toward the pool.

She didn't know what she was going to say. She didn't know what she was going to do. She just knew she couldn't be on the other side of the patio from him anymore.

She reached the edge of the pool, and his friend saw her first. He nudged Tyler, and Tyler's head came up, his eyes finding hers.

"Hey," she said, her voice soft.

"Hey." His voice was rougher than she remembered. Lower.

She sat down on the edge, her feet in the water, close to him. Not too close. But close enough that she could feel the heat radiating off his skin.

"I had a good nap," she said.

He nodded. "G-good. You needed it."

She looked at him, really looked at him. His eyes were tired, but there was something else there. Something softer. Something that made her chest ache.

"Tyler," she said, "thank you. For waking me up. For—" She gestured vaguely. "For caring."

He looked away, his jaw tight. "I told you. I d-didn't want you to hurt."

"I know." She let her feet drift in the water, the ripples spreading out from her ankles. "But you didn't have to. Chad would have let me burn. He would have watched and laughed."

Tyler's jaw tightened. "That's b-because Chad's an asshole."

She laughed, surprised. "Yeah. He is."

A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was the first time she had seen him smile. Really smile. And she felt her heart flip in her chest.

"There it is," she said softly.

<"Wh-what?"

"Your smile. I've been trying to get you to do that for weeks."

His face went red, and he looked away, but the smile didn't disappear. It stayed, small and shy, and she wanted to kiss it off his face.

She didn't. She just sat there, her feet in the water, her body close to his, and let the moment stretch.

The sun was beginning to set, the sky turning gold and pink. The party was still going, but the world had narrowed to just this—the warm water, the warm air, the boy beside her who couldn't stop looking at her even when he tried.

She could work with this.

She could work with forever.