I lost all focus

Michael’s Pov

I wasn't ready to see her like that. I came home early to clear my head, not fill it with more of her. But the moment I walked into the kitchen and saw her in that tiny tank top and tight black shorts, I lost all focus. Her damp hair clung to her neck, and that small silver ring in her navel glinted in the light like it knew I was staring. She didn’t even notice the effect she had. Maybe that was the worst part.

All day, she’d been drifting through my thoughts. I kept trying to work, but even emails were blurred. Every spare second, she showed up in my head like a whisper I couldn’t shake. I left the office at two, told the guys I had someone waiting at home. Technically, it wasn’t a lie.

I wasn’t thinking clearly, just acting on impulse, something I rarely did. But lately, being around her made me feel like I was someone else.

When I got home, the house was quiet. I figured my dad and Evelyn had taken her along, but as I walked past her room, soft music spilled into the hallway. The door was slightly open. She was sitting cross-legged on the bed, bent over a sketchbook, completely locked into her own world.

I stood there for a second, watching her hand move, slow, deliberate strokes. Something about the way she concentrated made me want to know what was in her mind.

“Hey,” I said.

She looked up fast, startled. “Oh. You’re back.”

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” I replied.

She quickly slid the sketchbook under her pillow. “It’s fine.”

“You draw a lot?”

She shrugged. “Yeah. Helps me think.”

“Need a break?” I asked. “Want to swim?”

She raised a brow. “Now?”

“Why not? Weather’s good. Pool’s warm.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Give me ten minutes.”

“Twelve,” I said, already heading to my room.

Exactly twelve minutes later, I knocked. She opened the door in a simple navy swimsuit, modest but flattering. She didn’t try. That was the problem, she didn’t have to. We walked outside together. The sun was dipping low, gold stretching across the water. I dove in first, needing the cool to settle my nerves. She followed, graceful and unbothered.

“So, why’d you leave work early?” she asked as we floated near the edge.

“Too many distractions,” I said, not looking at her. “Thought some fresh air would help.”

“Did it?”

I turned to face her. “Still working on that.”

She gave me a small smile, then swam toward the deep end. I watched her go, wishing I had the strength to swim in the opposite direction. But I didn’t.

Later, as we toweled off, she looked at me for a moment longer than usual. “You always look so serious.”

“I’ve got a lot on my mind.”

“Maybe you should draw too,” she said, grabbing her sketchpad as we headed inside.

“Wouldn’t know where to start.”

“Try the thing you can’t stop thinking about.” I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. Because if I did, I’d have to admit it was her.

We walked to the pool together, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the backyard. A soft breeze rustled the hedges, and somewhere in the distance, a sprinkler hissed to life. Violet laid her towel and phone on a lounge chair without saying a word, her presence calm but charged, like she knew something I didn’t. I dove in first, needing to cool the heat rising in my chest. The water was cold and clean, shockingly refreshing after a long day at the office, but it didn’t drown the thoughts I'd been trying to shake. If anything, it only amplified them.

When I surfaced, Violet was still at the edge, testing the water with her toes. Then, without warning, she walked to the deep end and dove in with the kind of smooth, practiced grace that made it clear: this wasn’t her first time.

She cut through the water effortlessly, each stroke strong and rhythmic, her body gliding forward like she belonged there more than anywhere else. She didn’t swim to impress me. She wasn’t flirting. She was in her element. And that made her even more captivating. I watched for a while before swimming into her path, forcing her to stop mid-lap. She came up for air and treaded water with ease, her eyes narrowing slightly.

“You didn’t just invite me to swim, did you?” she asked, raising one eyebrow.

I smirked. “Not entirely. I needed a break from work. And figured you could use some company.”

She didn’t answer right away, her expression unreadable. Then, slowly, a faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips. “That so?”

“Yeah,” I said, swimming closer. “Also… are you secretly a fitness model or something?”

She laughed, and the sound hit me square in the chest, light, bright, and real. “God, no. I hate being the center of attention.”

“Well, you’ve got the talent for it.”

She shook her head. “I’m just an artist. And a writer. Swimming’s something I do to think. Or to stop thinking, depending on the day.”

There was a pause. A quiet shift.

“I like feeling strong,” she added, her voice quieter now. “I like testing my limits.”

That surprised me, not the words, but how sincere they were. She wasn’t trying to impress me. She wasn’t pretending. And that… well, it hit me harder than any carefully rehearsed flirtation ever could.

I nodded slowly. “I get that.”

She looked at me for a long second, and I felt the air between us shift again. Her gaze was sharper now, like she was reading something unspoken. And then, she asked the one question I wasn’t ready for.

“Don’t you think I’m too young for you?”

I blinked, caught off guard. My first instinct was to deflect, joke it off. But her eyes didn’t let me. So I gave her the truth or at least, part of it.

“You’re eighteen,” I said. “That’s an adult. Age is just a number, right? What matters more is how you carry yourself. And you… you seem a lot older than most people I know.”

She hummed, like she’d expected that answer. “Still. There’s more to it than just age.”

“Like what?”

She didn’t hesitate.

“Experience. Intentions. Power.” Then, slowly, deliberately, she swam toward me and wrapped her legs around my waist. Her hands rested lightly on my shoulders, and my heart thudded against my ribs like it was trying to escape.

“There’s a fine line,” she continued, “between attraction and advantage. And maybe I trust you enough to ask where you stand.”

Her eyes locked onto mine, challenging, but calm. Not accusing. Just real. I swallowed. My hands hovered at her hips, not pulling her closer, but not pushing her away either.

“You’re smart,” I said, my voice low. “Smarter than most people I know. And yeah, I think about it. I’ve thought about it too much.”

“And?”

“And I’m trying not to cross that line.”

She nodded like she respected that. But then, she tilted her head, her wet hair clinging to her cheek. “And what happens when it gets blurry?”

I didn’t have an answer. Not one I could say out loud. Instead, I asked, “You think it’s wrong?”

“I think,” she said softly, “it’s dangerous when someone convinces themselves they’re not already falling.”

With that, she unhooked her legs, swam backward, and climbed out of the pool. The water streamed off her skin in rivulets, catching the last of the sun. She didn’t look back at me, just reached for her towel and wrapped it around her body like armor. I stayed in the water, watching her. She’d just shut me down, gently, without cruelty, but left something hanging between us that neither of us knew how to name.

She was eighteen or twenty if I wasn't mistaken. Legal, smart and confident. But she was still young. And me? I wasn’t planning on anything serious… was I? That’s what I kept telling myself. That she was just a distraction. A summer story. Something that would fade once reality caught up. But as I watched her disappear into the house, her silhouette framed by the fading sun, I knew that was a lie. Because nothing about her felt temporary.