The chlorine still clung to her hair, dark curls plastered to her cheeks as she stood shivering in the hallway of Steve’s house. The party noise downstairs felt distant now — muffled laughter, music, everything fading beneath the sound of Nancy’s uneven breathing.

You didn’t hesitate. You shrugged off your jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders, then quickly handed her a towel you’d grabbed from the bathroom.

“Here,” you said gently. “You’ll freeze.”

Her fingers brushed yours as she took it, eyes flicking up to meet yours for just a second too long. “Thank you,” she murmured.

You led her upstairs to one of the empty bedrooms so she could dry off and change. As soon as you stepped inside, you turned away out of instinct, staring a little too intently at the posters on the wall.

Behind you, fabric rustled. You swallowed, heat creeping up your neck.

“You know,” Nancy said softly, trying — and failing — to sound casual, “you don’t have to act like I’m made of glass.”

You hesitated.

“Nancy…” you started, still facing the wall.

She said your name then — quieter this time — and something in her voice made your heart skip. When you finally glanced back, she was clutching the towel, cheeks flushed pink, eyes wide but warm.