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Poolside Confessions

The party had ended, but we stayed, floating in the warm water. He’d always been the safe one—my best friend, never crossing the line.

“You’re quiet,” he said, treading water beside me.

“I’m thinking,” I replied. “About what I want.”

“What do you want?”

I moved closer, my body brushing his under the water. “You.”

He went still. “Grey…”

I kissed him before he could finish. His hands found my waist, pulling me onto his lap. The water lapped around us as his mouth traveled down my neck, my chest.

“Are you sure?” he breathed.

In answer, I pressed against him. The water hid nothing.

When we finally climbed out, we didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. Some lines, once crossed, become the best thing you never knew you wanted.