JACK
She’s stiff at first. Guarded. But then—slowly, gently—she melts into me. Her arms wind around my neck. Her mouth softens. And when I pull her closer, she lets me. I hold her like I’m trying to memorize the shape of her, the weight, the sound of her breath. Like I can keep this moment for when she pulls away again.
But she doesn’t. Not yet. We break apart a minute later. Her forehead presses to mine. We’re both breathing a little harder.
Then she lets out a breath and says, “I miss swimming.”
I blink. “What?”
She pulls back, a sweet smile on her perfect lips. “It’s stupid. I just…I didn’t know there’d be a lake. I would’ve brought a suit.”
“You don’t need one.”
She arches a brow. I smirk. Step back. Grab the hem of my shirt and pull it off in one motion. Her eyes widen. Then I
