The pool water shimmered dark blue under the soft hum of porch lights. Crickets chirped in the hedges, and somewhere in the distance, someone was playing Fleetwood Mac too loud.

It was nearly midnight, and they’d been out here for hours — just the two of them, drifting lazily in the quiet warmth of summer.

Johnny floated on his back, arms spread wide, watching the stars blur against the ripples. He heard her laugh — light, breathless — as she treaded closer, pushing water behind her in slow, easy strokes.

“Why’re you looking at the sky?” she asked, voice low with mischief. “You afraid to race me again after I smoked you?”

“I let you win,” he said, turning his head, water sloshing in his ears.

“You didn’t.”

He smiled, just barely. And then she was right there, only a foot away, bare shoulders glinting in the pool light, water trailing down her neck. Her eyes searched his, all starlight and curiosity.

Johnny’s chest tightened. God, she was—

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed.

She blinked — startled, maybe — but didn’t back away.

And that was enough.

Johnny surged forward, water sloshing between them, and kissed her — desperate, hungry, like every second he hadn’t said it before was catching up to him. His hands cupped her jaw, her lips soft and stunned against his.

For one suspended heartbeat, the world went quiet.