It happened at the end of a long day at camp. After training battles, a muddy trail hike, and a meal shared under the stars, the group realized there was only one round of hot water left in the portable shower unit.

Your mutual friend said, completely straight-faced, “You two better share it, or someone’s getting the ice bath.”

You and Rosa looked at each other like two Deerling in headlights.

“W-Well I mean,” she stammered, face glowing pink, “i-it’s not like I mind showering with you, I just—y’know—it’s for survival, right? Not like a thing thing—ha ha…”

You laughed nervously. “Y-Yeah. Totally. Just… water-efficient bonding. Not weird. Nope.”

The tent zipped shut behind you both.

Then Rosa reached for the hem of her shirt. Paused. Looked at you.

“Um… don’t look yet, okay?” she whispered. “Unless you want to. Not that I want you to—unless you do. I mean, I do want you to see me—WAIT NO I DON’T—”

She tugged her shirt off before she could overthink harder, revealing soft skin and curves that made your brain reboot.

Next, her skirt. She stepped out of it quickly, cheeks puffed, and turned around before pulling her panties down, hiding her glowing face.

“Okay! You can, um, look now. If you need to. For like… coordination.”

You awkwardly stripped too, the air thick with steam and tension.

The water ran, mist rising around you both. She stood under the stream, glancing at you over her shoulder.

Her back arched slightly, curves gleaming under the warm water.

“…I-it’s warmer if we stand closer,” she mumbled. Then, quieter: “…And I don’t mind if you touch my hand. Or maybe… a little more.”