Chapter Thirteen | Neck-Deep
The water was cooler than expected, a sharp contrast to the thick heat of the air. She shrieked as it rushed over her shoulders, laughing as she waded deeper. He followed, grinning like a kid, splashing toward her without warning.
“Seriously?” she gasped, pushing wet hair from her face. “You’re a menace.”
“You rolled your eyes again. Consequences.”
She splashed him back, harder this time, and they chased each other in circles, half-laughing, half-daring the other to escalate. Salt stuck to their skin, the sun warming the tops of their shoulders, and for a while, the world felt blissfully reduced to water, heat, and heartbeats.
They slowed eventually, floating in the deeper stretch, breathless and wet and a little quieter than before.
She treaded water just a few feet from him, their eyes meeting in the in-between.
“You’re not bad at this,” she said softly.
“At what?”
“Being here. Present. Relaxed.”
He shrugged, half-smile still tugging at his mouth. “Maybe I just needed the right person to drag me to the beach.”
She rolled her eyes again—so gently this time, it barely counted. He caught it anyway.
“God, you’re obsessed with my eye rolls,” she said.
“They’re like… emotional punctuation,” he replied. “Let me know where I stand.”
“And where’s that?”
He looked at her for a long beat, the smile dimming into something quieter. More real.
“Neck-deep,” he said.
She blinked. “In water?”
He didn’t answer, not directly. Just moved a little closer. Not enough to touch her, but enough to feel it—how little space was left between them now.
The water rocked them gently, like the tide itself was holding its breath.
“You always do that,” she said, voice almost a whisper.
“What?”
“Say half of what you mean.”
“And you always pretend you don’t understand the other half.”
She didn’t respond. Couldn't. Her heart was beating too fast and too loud and right there between them.
His hand drifted under the water, brushing briefly against hers. Not a grab. Just a pass. Like maybe he was wondering if she’d hold on—or let go.
She didn’t do either.
Not yet.
“You still overthinking?” he asked.
“Constantly.”
He laughed softly. “It’s cute.”
She snorted. “It’s annoying.”
“It’s real,” he said, more serious now. “You’re real. Always have been.”
She looked at him then, really looked. No jokes, no distance. Just him. Eyes soft behind wet lashes. Chin tilted like he was on the verge of saying something that might undo them both.
But he didn’t.
And she didn’t ask him to.
They just floated there, neck-deep in saltwater and feelings they couldn’t name, in a moment that wasn’t a kiss—but could’ve been.
Maybe that was enough.
For now.
