"I will," I promise, turning away as the sounds of celebration fade behind me.

The gravel crunches under my tires as I pull into the driveway, killing the engine. The dark, silent house stands in sharp contrast to the bonfire's energy. The empty driveway is strange—everyone's usually home by now. I'm desperate to shed the night's drama like an unwanted skin.

"Hello?" My voice echoes through the quiet house, met only with heavy silence that sends unease crawling up my spine.

The faint sound of music grows clearer as I move toward the backyard. Oasis' "I'm Outta Time" floats through the air, tugging at something deep inside me. Following the sound leads me to the pool.

And there's Nate, half-submerged and floating with his back to me, unaware of my presence. Moonlight traces the water streaming down his muscular shoulders, highlighting how much he's changed—more mature, more everything. My heart pounds as I struggle against a flood of emotions.

Goddammit. Why does he have to look so good?

I've spent years trying to convince myself my feelings for him were just a childhood crush meant to fade. But here he is, magnetic as ever, effortlessly pulling those old feelings to the surface.

He turns slightly, his eyes meeting mine. My breath catches, cheeks burning. His hair clings wet to his forehead, his expression softer than I've seen in ages. For a moment, everything else disappears—just us, the night air thick with memories, and music that feels like it's playing only for us.

I swallow hard, aiming for casual. "I didn't realize anyone was home."

His lopsided grin makes my heart stutter. “Everyone’s still out.”

"I didn't mean to interrupt."

"It's your house too now," he says, leaning back against the pool's edge, gaze steady on mine. The way he looks at me, like I'm the only person in his world, sends shivers down my spine.

"You're home early."

It wasn't a question but demanded an answer.

"Wasn't feeling it tonight."

I feel that familiar pull toward him, impossible to ignore now. Years of pretending I didn't care crumble away, leaving me with the raw truth: I don't think this feeling toward him ever went away.

Not for a second.

14. Late Night Swims

CHAPTER 14

LATE NIGHT SWIMS

NATE

Opting out of the bonfire tonight was probably one of the few good decisions I've made lately. The thought of pretending everything is fine feels like a sick joke. Instead, I play chauffeur, driving Mom and Kat to a bar before peeling off with some bullshit excuse about other plans. Mom doesn't push it. Guess that's what happens when you start to ghost your own life—people stop asking questions, either scared of the answers or just done giving a fuck altogether.

At least she's got one son who has his act together.