Temporary Monuments: CH. 3

CHAPTER THREE: ALL THE WAY WET

The pool was supposed to be the next target.
But somewhere between the keycard beep and the echo of our footsteps, it stopped feeling like sabotage—and started feeling like something else entirely.

Tate moved through the water like he wasn’t even trying. Just a slow drift forward, shoulders tilting with the motion, his legs gliding beneath the surface as if the pool had softened around him. He stopped close—closer than close—close enough that I felt him before I actually felt him, the heat of his skin bleeding into the space between us, the current pulling gently against mine. He didn’t speak. Neither did I. The silence felt fuller than anything we could’ve said.

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