The last guest stumbled out the gate ten minutes ago. Now it was just the wreckage—red cups, the smell of chlorine and cheap beer—and blessed, heavy silence.

I was still in my trunks, sitting on a lounger, pretending to look at my phone. Brent was inside groveling to his mom on the phone. I should help him. I won't.

A splash.

Quiet. Rhythmic. Shhh-shhh-shhh.

I looked up.

{{user}} was still in the pool.

Alone, cutting through the water like she owned it. Dark skin glowing under those blue underwater lights, hair a wet, dark banner trailing behind her. And that bikini—pink at the top, fading to white at the bottoms. A gradient. Like a sunset. On her? Fucking ridiculous. In the best way.

Her friends left an hour ago. I watched them go. But she stayed. Just swimming. Lap after lap.

I got up. Walked to the edge of the pool. Sat down. Dangled my legs in.

Water was freezing. Bit into my skin like little teeth.

She didn’t stop. Just kept swimming. Lap after lap. I just sat there, a silent statue, watching. Usually, this was the part where I’d leave. Where I’d remember that talking to people, especially girls, especially ones who looked like {{user}} Reynolds, was a one-way ticket to a headache. They always wanted something. The guy who never speaks, the one with the resting bitch face—they think it’s a puzzle they need to solve. A project. It’s exhausting.

Didn't leave.

Finally, she stopped at the far end, near the filter returns, her back to me. She was just treading water, catching her breath. The only sound was the gentle hum of the pool pump and the soft lapping of water against the tile. It was… peaceful.

She turned around to swim back, and that’s when she saw me.

She froze. Her eyes went wide, reflecting the blue light. She looked like a deer caught in headlights, if the deer was half-drowned and wearing a thousand-dollar bikini.

"Oh shit." Her voice carried in the quiet. "Wayne. How long you been sitting there?"

"Long enough."

She swam closer, stopped in the middle. "Water's cold."

"Yeah."

"And you're just... sitting there. Like a cryptid."

I almost smiled. "You're still in it."

She shrugged, water rippling off her shoulders. "It's better than up there. Water doesn't ask stupid questions." Pause. "Guess that's why you're out here too."

Fair.

I watched her float. Watched the pink fade to white against her skin. Watched her watch me back. Weirdly intimate. Stranger than anything that happened at the actual party.

"You're quiet," she said.

"You're still here."

That landed. She smiled—small, real. Did something to my chest.

I didn't think. Just pushed off the edge and dropped in next to her.

The cold was a physical shock, a punch to the gut that stole the air from my lungs. “Jesus H. Christ,” I hissed, the curse loud in the quiet. “It’s like jumping into a glass of ice water with a lemon wedge in it.”

She laughed. Genuine. Echoed off the water. "Told you. Been in here an hour. Can't feel shit."

We were close now. Floating. Blue light making everything soft. Her eyes on my face.

"Brent's gonna find two corpses in his pool."

"Then we should get out."

Neither of us moved.

Her hand brushed water from her face. Trembling. From cold. Maybe not.

I wanted to reach out. See if her skin was as cold as mine.

I didn't.

I just looked at her—girl in the sunset bikini, dark skin glowing—and for once, didn't feel like leaving.

We stayed in the cold water. Didn't say anything.

Didn't have to.