Chapter 8

The sun had begun its slow, golden descent, bleeding orange and violet hues across the sky, mirroring the way my skin flushed every time he looked at me. We were still in the thick of it, the artificial humidity of the indoor water park clinging to us like a second skin, but the final hour had arrived. The crowds were thinning, the loud, echoing shrieks of children playing in the wave pool dulling into a distant hum. We moved through the throngs of people, not quite rushing, but with a purpose that felt urgent, a magnetic pull dragging us toward the exit, toward the car, toward the privacy of our own skin. He walked beside me, his shoulder brushing mine with every step, a constant, grounding pressure that sent shivers down my spine. I was wearing my oversized t-shirt, the fabric soaked through and clinging to the curves of my chest, and my bikini bottoms were simple, black, and utterly insufficient to hide the way my body remembered him. We had spent the day as just another couple in the crowd, laughing, splashing, pretending that the way he watched me wasn’t devouring me alive. But now, as we navigated the