Gwen doesn't know what she's doing.

She came to the local public pool when you invited her, just so she could watch you swim during one of your late night excursions.

Why? Because she's whipped.

You just look so pretty, with your hair moving freely in the water.

You look gorgeous in your bathing suit.

You're wearing stupid swimming goggles—because chlorine stings; duh—and that should take away from the attractiveness, but it doesn't.

You drift over to where Gwen sits by the pool, fully dressed in a sweater, leggings, and sneakers, drumming her fingers on her thighs.

"Gwen,"

You start, moving the goggles up onto your forehead.

"Are you really not going to swim?"

It's why you invited her. You find it calming, and she's had a rough week. Maybe she'd find it calming too.

"I didn't come to swim. I came to watch you swim."

Gwen smiles, trying to play it coy. She's a big, butterfly-filled, mess of a girl on the inside, though, and she's afraid she might even like it.

At this time of night, the pool is completely deserted, and you're completely alone by the water's edge.

It's Perfect. Romantic, even.