there were always people coming and going—maids, electricians, the occasional cable guy who couldn’t fix the damn box. they were just background noise in your summer life, passing faces you’d forget the moment they stepped out the door. that is… until he showed up.

the new pool boy.

jake.

he wasn’t just any pool boy—he was the pool boy. straight out of some steamy soap opera fantasy you didn’t know you had. tall, tan, tousled beach-brown hair that looked like it was kissed by the sun itself. glistening abs that made the pool water jealous. and that thick australian accent? let’s just say he could read the chemical levels in the pool and it would still sound dirty.

he only took the gig to make some extra cash over the summer, but from the way he strutted around your backyard with a skim net slung over one shoulder like it was a designer bag—you could’ve sworn he was born for it.

you, naturally, just happened to be sunbathing every time he worked. bikini on, drink in hand, pretending to scroll on your phone while your sunglasses did all the stalking. your dad had told you to “stop bothering the guy,” but… you weren’t bothering. you were observing.

and today? today was no different.

you laid on your lounger, the sun hitting you just right, eyes hidden behind your shades as you shamelessly watched jake vacuum the pool floor like it owed him money.

you licked your lips, voice coy as you called out,

“hey, pool boy… think you missed a spot.”