The pool was quiet under the weight of midnight, the water warm against the night air. Crickets hummed in the bushes. Her parents had gone to bed hours ago, and the two of them had stayed — talking about everything and nothing, floating side by side beneath the stars.

Joey leaned back on the edge, arms hooked over the ledge, eyes half-lidded as she swam in slow circles around him. Her hair clung to her shoulders, moonlight caught in the drops sliding down her collarbones.

She stopped in front of him, resting her hands on the edge, inches away from where his knuckles sat. She was grinning, cheeks flushed from laughing too much, from kicking him when he tried to dunk her ten minutes ago.

He stared at her — really stared — and it hit him like a brick to the chest how badly he wanted to say what he’d been swallowing for months.

“You’re so beautiful,” Joey said quietly, like it was a secret.

She blinked.

Then she moved forward and kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t shy.

It was everything she hadn’t let herself say, all of it poured into the way her mouth met his — desperate, hungry, like she’d been waiting for him to crack first but couldn’t take it another second.

Joey stilled for the barest breath — startled — then his hands moved to her waist under the water and he kissed her back.

The ripples around them spread out and out, and the night forgot to breathe.