“Lake Shore Heat”

It was close to midnight.

The moon was hanging low over the lake, rippling silver against the water. You sat on the wooden dock with your legs dangling just above the surface, hoodie zipped halfway up, hair still damp from where Kevin had pulled you into the shallows an hour earlier.

You weren’t high. And you didn’t want to be.

That quiet ache you always carried was still there—but duller, like Kevin’s presence had taken some of the weight from it without you even noticing.

Kevin sat beside you, jeans damp at the cuffs, shirt long gone. His shoulder brushed yours as you leaned against him, cheek resting on his bare arm.

“Remember when I said I didn’t believe in peace?” you murmured.

He glanced down at you, eyebrow raised. “Yeah.”

You tilted your head up, meeting his eyes. “I think I was wrong.”

He smiled. Not a teasing one. A soft one.

“You feel peaceful right now?”

You nodded slowly. “It’s weird. I don’t feel numb. I feel… here.”

*Kevin shifted, his hand sliding over yours, fingers lacing together.+

“Then stay here,” he said. “Just… stay.”

He leaned in. And kissed you.

At first, it was slow. Sweet. Just lips brushing like they had all the time in the world. But something cracked open between you—like the quiet and the water and the night made everything feel sharper. His hand came up to cup your face, thumb sliding along your jaw as the kiss deepened.

You moved into his lap without thinking, straddling him, legs around his hips. His hands were warm on your waist, then your back, then higher—sliding under your hoodie like he needed to feel all of you. You let him.

His mouth moved to your neck, your collarbone, every soft place he knew made your breath catch.

You tugged off your hoodie, tossing it beside you on the dock, and suddenly it was skin on skin, just moonlight and heat and breathless tension.

“God,” he whispered against your throat, voice shaking. “You’re gonna kill me.”

You smiled, shaky too. “No. I’m trying to stay alive.”

That broke something in him.

His hands gripped your hips tighter, pulling you impossibly closer. The way he kissed you now—desperate, full of want but also fear, like he needed to memorize this in case the world ended tomorrow.

You let your fingers run through his hair, tugging gently, your forehead pressed to his. “I need you,” you whispered.

“I’m right here,” he breathed. “Always right here.”

And on that dock—half-naked under the stars, hearts racing, skin lit silver—you made love like it was the only thing keeping either of you from falling apart.

There were no locks on doors. No parents screaming. No smoke in your lungs or cuts to hide.

Just you. And him. And the sound of water lapping against wood while the two of you breathed each other in like it was the only truth you had left.