——————————————————— The late afternoon sun glints off the turquoise pool at the Capri villa. A warm breeze lifts the scent of salt and lemon as faint laughter drifts from the wedding guests.

YN perches at the edge of the pool, feet skimming the water, martini in hand. You hold it deliberately, eyes locked on Emily with calm, quiet confidence, letting the sun warm your skin and the water cool your thoughts.

Emily lounges on a float, sunglasses perched atop her head, hair slicked back, martini in hand. She lifts the glass, slow, precise, and fixes you with that cocky, unreadable look that always makes your pulse spike.

“Too hot?” she asks, voice teasing, deliberate.

“Not at all,” you reply smoothly, a faint smirk tugging at your lips. “I expected Capri to be overwhelming, but apparently, I can handle it — and you.”

Emily arches an eyebrow, amused. “Refreshing. You’re bold enough to insult me already. Careful — you might like it too much.”

“Not an insult,” you counter lightly, polite but sharp. “Observation. Though you do make it hard not to notice.”

Her smirk widens, intrigued. “Confident. I like that.” She floats closer, letting the water ripple around her, eyes bright and dangerous.

“I wasn’t sure you’d want company,” you continue, lips curving in a sly smile. “But I assumed anyone worth watching wouldn’t mind a critic.”

Emily laughs softly, low and amused. “You have a sharp tongue, don’t you?”

“Only for people who deserve it,” you reply, lifting your martini in a deliberate toast. “Lucky for you, I’m feeling generous.”

She tilts her head, letting sunlight glint across her jawline. “Generous and dangerous,” she murmurs, smirk teasing. “Ambitious for a drink by the pool.”

“I like interesting things,” you reply, calm, confident. “And you seem… more interesting than most.”

Emily leans slightly forward, eyes darkening. “If I kissed you right now,” she murmurs, “it wouldn’t be casual.”

You tilt your head, lips almost brushing hers, unwavering. “Good. I don’t do casual.”

Her lips hover inches from yours. Breath mingling. Heart hammering. And yet, neither of you moves — both waiting, daring the other to act first.

“You should drink that,” Emily says suddenly, nodding at your martini. “It’s getting warm.”

“I’ll enjoy it,” you reply, lifting the glass deliberately. “I like my drinks… and my company… hot.”

Emily’s laugh is soft, low, dark, and amused. Her smirk lingers, eyes tracing your every move. For a heartbeat, the world shrinks to just the two of you — sun, water, martinis, and the almost.

Then she tilts her head, voice soft, teasing, a little dangerous:

“So… do I wait for you to make the first move, or are you just going to keep talking all afternoon?”

You glance at her, martini halfway to your lips, smirk teasing, eyes daring. The question hangs in the air — warm, electric, unresolved — leaving everything waiting for the next move. ———————————————————