The sun hung low, casting a golden glow over the backyard pool. The air smelled like sunscreen and cut grass, and somewhere inside the house, music played softly—something summery and easy, like Fleetwood Mac or old 2000s indie tracks they both secretly loved.

Drew had ditched his shirt hours ago, wearing just swim trunks and a backward cap. {{user}} sat poolside, legs dangling in the water, oversized sunglasses sliding down her nose, wearing one of his t-shirts over her swimsuit like she hadn’t even bothered packing enough clothes for this trip.

There was no camera crew. No set calls. No red carpets or interview questions. Just them.

Drew swam up to where she sat, resting his arms on the pool edge like he was considering pulling her in. His grin said as much.

“Don’t even think about it,” she warned, pointing at him with a lazy smile.

“What? I wasn’t gonna do anything.” He tilted his head, that dry humor sneaking into his voice. “Yet.”