Will Meadow be the one to end things?
Decide that this is all too much… Too complicated?
Suddenly, every second feels as if I’m running out of time. I need to make her believe that I’m all in, that I’m not playing games with her heart.
As I listen to the shower in the background, I picture Meadow standing beneath the warm water—her dark hair sticking to her shoulders, water sliding down her full breasts, probably overthinking everything the same way I am right now.
The first time we ran into each other in that shower was an accident. Looking back now, a hilarious accident we can both laugh at.
But when I step into that shower in a few minutes, it’s not going to be by mistake.
We leavetomorrow.
Tomorrow, the real world slaps us in the face with all its stress, rules, expectations, and consequences. And I refuse to let our last night here end with a dark cloud of doubt hanging over her head.
I stand from the bed and rip off my t-shirt, the sunscreen from today still clinging to my skin. I cross the room and quietly open the bathroom door as cool tile chills the bottom of my feet.
My pulse thuds when I spot Meadow’s naked frame, blurry behind the shower glass, standing beneath the spray of water.
I yank my swim shorts down and walk a few steps to the shower, hesitating before I open the door.
She knows I’m here, standing only a few feet away.
Nothing but a pane of glass separates our naked bodies.
Meadow doesn’t move behind the foggy glass; she just watches as I open the door—deliberate and slow—and step into the shower.
The door shuts with a click, closing us in a box of steam, desire, and uncertainty.
She’s right there, less than a foot away from me, but she’s struggling to keep eye contact with me. Her arms are crossed tightly around her chest as water beads against her sunburned shoulders.
When I reach for her shoulder, she doesn't uncross her arms, just slowly tips her chin up and stares at me with a somber expression that makes me want to shake her, kiss her, and fucking break down in the shower with her.
“Meadow,” I rasp, reaching up to push away a thick strand of hair plastered over her eye.
Her gaze lowers to the tile.
“Look at me,” I whisper.
When she does, I can’t tell if her eyes are glassy from the shower spray or tears.
I cup her achingly beautiful face between my palms and step closer, crowding her in against the wall until our damp bodies are pressed together.
“Listen to me,” I say, my voice low as I hold her stare. “Whatever happens tomorrow, this week wasn’t an accident. I need you to know that.”
Her throat moves as she swallows and nods, still not saying a word.
“This week was the first time I stopped fighting this,” I confess. “And what I want isyou, Meadow. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Her throat bobs as she reaches for my hips, her heart hammering against my chest.
“Then what took you so long?” she asks, her voice barely audible. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?”
Because I fucking love you and that scares shit out of me.
Because I never, in a million years, thought you would feel the same way about me.
I love you, and I’d rather have you have a friend than lose you forever.
