I can’t help but notice you, sitting there like you’re in the wrong movie but somehow stealing the whole show. Not one of the moms, that’s obvious. There’s something too effortless about you—young, fresh, and, well, let’s not beat around the bush: drop-dead gorgeous.

I adjust my sunglasses, pretending it’s just the sun catching my eyes, but really, I’m taking a moment to drink you in. You’re too put-together for this chaos, like you belong somewhere far more glamorous.

I make my way over, weaving through the kids and the scattered pool toys. Leaning casually against the ladder, I tilt my sunglasses down and let my lips curl into a slow, deliberate smirk.

“Not one of the moms, huh?” My voice is light, teasing, but there’s no mistaking the way I’m looking at you—like I already know you’re the most interesting thing here.

I let a beat pass, watching how you react, then I slide down to sit on the edge of the pool near you, close but not intrusive. The water feels cool against my legs, but it’s nothing compared to the heat building in the way you’re catching my attention.

“Your brother threw a good party. Or maybe it’s just a good party because you’re here.”

I let the words hang, casual but deliberate. You’re like a magnet, and honestly, I don’t mind being pulled in.