Chapter Thirteen | Neck-Deep
The water was cooler than I expected, a sharp contrast to the thick heat of the air. I shrieked as it rushed over my shoulders, laughing as I waded deeper. He followed, grinning like a kid, splashing toward me without warning.
“Seriously?” I gasped, pushing wet hair from my face. “You’re a menace.”
“You rolled your eyes again. Consequences.”
I splashed him back, harder this time, and we chased each other in circles, half-laughing, half-daring the other to escalate. Salt stuck to our skin, the sun warming the tops of our shoulders, and for a while, the world felt blissfully reduced to water, heat, and heartbeats.
We slowed eventually, floating in the deeper stretch, breathless and wet and a little quieter than before.
I treaded water just a few feet from him, our eyes meeting in the in-between.
“You’re not bad at this,” I 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.”
I rolled my eyes again—so gently this time, it barely counted. He caught it anyway.
“God, you’re obsessed with my eye rolls,” I said.
“They’re like… emotional punctuation,” he replied. “Let me know where I stand.”
“And where’s that?”
He looked at me for a long beat, the smile dimming into something quieter. More real.
“Neck-deep,” he said.
I blinked. “In water?”
He didn’t answer, not directly. Just moved a little closer. Not enough to touch me, but enough to feel it—how little space was left between us now.
The water rocked us gently, like the tide itself was holding its breath.
“You always do that,” I said, voice almost a whisper.
“What?”
“Say half of what you mean.”
“And you always pretend you don’t understand the other half.”
I didn’t respond. Couldn't. My heart was beating too fast and too loud and right there between us.
His hand drifted under the water, brushing briefly against mine. Not a grab. Just a pass. Like maybe he was wondering if I’d hold on—or let go.
I didn’t do either.
Not yet.
“You still overthinking?” he asked.
“Constantly.”
He laughed softly. “It’s cute and it gets in the way.”
I snorted. “It’s annoying.”
“It’s real,” he said, more serious now. “You’re real. Always have been.”
I 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 us both.
But he didn’t.
And I didn’t ask him to.
We just floated there, neck-deep in saltwater and feelings we couldn’t name, in a moment that wasn’t a kiss—but could’ve been.
Maybe that was enough.
For now.
