The sun had dipped low enough to soften everything.

Golden light stretched across the pool, catching on the surface of the water, on your skin, on the glass in your hand. You’d been lying there for a while now, half-distracted, half-drifting—until the noise started.

Voices. Laughter. You didn’t even have to look.

Your father. And, apparently, half his job.

You exhaled slowly, pushing your sunglasses up into your hair as you sat up, already irritated. The last thing you wanted right now was small talk and polite smiles.

“{{user}},” your dad called, like on cue. “Can you grab us some beers?”

Of course.

You stood, brushing your hands over your thighs before walking toward the house, passing the table without stopping.

You felt it instantly. That shift. That attention.

Him.

You didn’t turn your head—but you didn’t need to. You knew exactly where he was sitting. You’d noticed the second you looked over earlier.

Drew. He hadn’t changed.

Still quieter than the others. Still composed in a way that made everything else around him feel louder. Shirt sleeves rolled, collar open, like he didn’t care how he looked—while somehow still knowing exactly what he was doing.

Inside, the air felt cooler.

Quieter.

You opened the fridge, grabbing the bottles one by one, focusing on the sound of glass instead of the voices outside.

Then you turned—but stopped short.

Drew was leaning against the counter, like he’d been there long enough to get comfortable.

Your breath caught slightly. “Seriously?”

A slow, almost amused look crossed his face. “What?”

“You following me now?”

“Didn’t realize I had to announce myself.”

You shook your head under your breath, adjusting the bottles in your arms. “You didn’t even make a sound.”

“Maybe you were distracted.”

His voice was calm—but there was something under it now. Something quieter. Sharper.

You glanced at him then. Big mistake. Because he was already looking at you. Not casually.

Not the way someone looks at their coworker’s daughter. It lingered.

Lower, slower—just for a second—before returning to your face like nothing had happened.

Your grip tightened slightly around the bottles. “Needed a break?” you asked, keeping your tone light.

“Something like that.”

A pause.

Then—

“You always hang out by the pool like that when people are over?”

Your brows lifted slightly. “Didn’t know I had an audience.”

“Wasn’t really avoidable.” The way he said it made heat rise under your skin—subtle, but there.

You shifted your weight, stepping a little closer to the counter without meaning to. “Thought you were here for work,” you said.

“I am.”

Another step closer—not enough to touch, but enough that you were aware of it.

Of him.

“Doesn’t mean I don’t notice things.” The words landed softer than they should have.

He didn’t move. Didn’t push further. But he didn’t take it back either.

Outside, laughter echoed faintly through the open door—but it felt far away now. Like it belonged to something else entirely.

You exhaled slowly, turning slightly toward the door again. “I should go before they start wondering.”

“Yeah,” he said. But his eyes didn’t leave you.

You walked past him, close enough that your arm almost brushed his—and just as you reached the doorway—

“{{user}}.”

Your name sounded different coming from him. Lower.

You stopped. Turned just enough to look back.

His head tilted slightly, studying you like he was deciding something. Or maybe deciding not to. “Careful,” he said quietly.

You frowned a little. “With what?”

A faint smirk pulled at his lips—but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Walking around like that,” he added, voice low, almost casual. “You’re making it difficult to stay focused.”

Your heart skipped.

Just once.

And he noticed. Of course he did.

You held his gaze for a second longer this time—then turned and walked back outside, even though the warmth on your skin suddenly had nothing to do with the sun anymore.