Amber's POV

Morning light filtered through the thin fabric of the tent, painting everything in soft gold. My body was warm beneath the blanket, cocooned in lingering heat from the night before. For a blissful second, I forgot where I was.

And then it hit me.

Last night.

The way Bryan kissed me. The way I let him. The way I wanted more. My stomach twisted, heat creeping up my neck as my heart slammed against my ribs. My fingers curled into the sleeping bag, gripping it like it could somehow ground me, but all it did was remind me of the warmth still clinging to my skin—the warmth he had left behind.

I had kissed Bryan Munoz. Multiple times.

And I had let him touch me. Let him pull my hoodie up and press his lips to my scar—something no one had ever done before.

I swallowed hard, my breath uneven as I turned my head ever so slightly, peeking toward his side of the tent.

He was still asleep, his face relaxed, his dark lashes fanning against his cheekbones. His lips—lips that had been on me last night—were slightly parted, his breaths slow and steady. The golden light of the morning traced over his bare chest, illuminating the inked designs on his arms, the defined ridges of his muscles. He looked so... peaceful. So different from the smirking, cocky, insufferable Bryan I had known for months.

For a second, I let myself just look at him, my heart fluttering wildly against my will.

Then I realized what I was doing and snapped my head back forward.

Nope.

Not thinking about Bryan.

Not thinking about his hands on my waist, his mouth on my skin, the way his voice had dropped when he told me to be quieter—

Oh my God.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my fingers trembling as I pushed myself up slowly, careful not to wake him. I needed to move, needed to get out before he woke up and I had to actually face him.

I reached for my hoodie—his hoodie—and pulled it on quickly, ignoring the way my skin still buzzed with heat. My foot throbbed slightly as I shifted my weight, but I didn't care. I just needed to escape.

I was halfway out of the tent when a deep, groggy voice stopped me in my tracks.

"You running away, Ballerina?"

I froze.

Shit.

I turned slowly, heart pounding as I met his gaze. Bryan was awake now, blinking at me lazily, his voice still rough with sleep. He stretched his arms over his head, his muscles flexing slightly, his tattoos shifting with the movement.

I forced my expression to stay neutral, ignoring the warmth creeping up my spine. "No."

He smirked, rubbing a hand through his messy hair. "Because it definitely looks like you're running."

I crossed my arms, shifting awkwardly on my good foot. "Not everything is about you, Bryan."

His smirk widened, his dark eyes flickering with amusement. "Right."

I turned before he could say anything else, hobbling away from the tent as fast as my boot would allow.

When I reached the main campsite, the others were already packing up, getting ready for the trip back to the hotel. Ethan spotted me first, tossing his bag into the van before turning toward me.

"Rough night?" he teased, raising an eyebrow.

I stiffened.

Did he know?

"What?" I blurted, probably too fast.

Ethan frowned. "I was joking, but now I definitely need context."

I forced a laugh, shaking my head. "Nothing. Just tired."

He gave me a long, suspicious look before shrugging. "Well, try to wake up a little. We've got a long ride back to the hotel."

I nodded quickly, glad he wasn't pressing the subject. The last thing I needed was anyone asking about last night.

The van ride back to the hotel was long and uneventful, but I barely noticed. My mind was racing. I kept my eyes glued to the window, pretending to be deeply invested in the Costa Rican landscape while actively avoiding looking in Bryan's direction.

I didn't need another reminder of last night—not when my body still remembered the way he felt.

And besides, I had bigger things to worry about.

Tomorrow was my birthday.

And today?

Today was the thermal baths.

My stomach clenched at the thought. I had barely survived wearing a bikini at the pool, but now I was expected to spend an entire day in the hot springs, surrounded by people, my scar visible for everyone to see?

Nope.

Nope.

Nope.

I tried to focus on anything else as we arrived back at the hotel, but the dread lingered, curling around my ribs like a vice.

Ethan must have noticed because as we stepped into the lobby, he nudged me lightly.

"You good? You've been quiet."

I sighed, glancing up at him. "I just—The hot springs. I don't know if I want to go."

His brows furrowed. "Why?"

I hesitated, then exhaled. "I just... I don't really like wearing swimsuits."

Ethan gave me a look. "Amber, literally no one cares what you wear. We're all just trying to relax."

I bit my lip.

"Besides," he added, smirking slightly, "if anyone does care, I'll personally drown them in the hot springs."

I let out a small laugh despite myself. "Thanks."

"Anytime," he said, grinning.

I felt some of the tension ease from my shoulders, but my stomach was still in knots.

Because tomorrow, I would officially be twenty.

And somehow, that terrified me almost as much as Bryan did.

After settling back into the hotel, I wasted no time heading to my shared room with Bryan. The moment I stepped inside, I let out a long sigh, kicking off my boot carefully before collapsing onto the bed. But now, the reality of today's thermal baths weighed heavily on me.

I was still lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, when Bryan walked in. I immediately stiffened, my heart skipping a beat as my body betrayed me, flashing back to last night. The warmth of his hands, the press of his lips against my skin, the way he had kissed my scar like it wasn't something ugly.

I forced myself to sit up, clearing my throat as I avoided looking at him.

Bryan, on the other hand, didn't seem nearly as affected. He tossed his duffel bag onto the bed, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the stiffness from the bus ride. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt that clung slightly to his arms, the ink of his tattoos peeking from underneath the sleeves. His dark hair was still a little messy from sleep, but somehow, that only made him look even more frustratingly good.

His eyes flickered to me, taking in the way I was just lying there like a lifeless corpse. "Damn, Ballerina,​​ you look like you just went through war."

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "If war involves hiking, injuries, and dealing with you, then yeah. I guess I did."

Bryan let out a low chuckle as he sat on his bed, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You love dealing with me."

I shot him a glare. "Oh, absolutely. It's the highlight of my entire existence."

He smirked, shaking his head. "Careful, your sarcasm's showing."

I ignored him, reaching for my phone to distract myself. As soon as I unlocked the screen, a notification popped up.

Professor Álvarez: Reminder: Be ready for departure to Arenal's hot springs at 3 PM. The saunas and pools close at 7 PM, so use your time wisely!

I bit my lip, my stomach twisting all over again.

It was already past noon. That meant I had less than three hours to mentally prepare myself for a full-on exposure therapy session in a swimsuit.

Great.

Bryan must have noticed my expression shift because he leaned back on his elbows, raising an eyebrow at me. "What's with the face?"

I sighed. "Nothing."

His lips twitched. "You suck at lying."

I frowned, hesitating. For a second, I debated brushing it off, but something about his relaxed posture—his presence—made me say it anyway.

"I just... I'm not really excited about the hot springs," I admitted, keeping my gaze locked on my phone. "I don't like... being that exposed."

Bryan didn't immediately reply, which was rare for him. When I glanced up, his expression wasn't teasing or smug. It was unreadable.

"Because of the scar?" he asked quietly.

My throat tightened.

I swallowed hard and nodded.

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his jaw. "No one's gonna say shit, you know that, right?"

I forced a small, humorless smile. "It's not about them."

I didn't elaborate.

I didn't need to.

The scar wasn't just a mark on my body—it was everything that came with it. The pain. The fear. The memories that haunted me in my sleep.

Bryan watched me for a long moment before shaking his head. "You should still go."

I frowned. "Why?"

"Because you want to." His voice was firm, but not harsh. "And because you shouldn't let him take any more from you."

Something in my chest clenched. I had no idea how Bryan managed to get under my skin so easily. How he could say things that dug deep into the places I didn't let anyone touch.

I stared at him, feeling strangely exposed even though I was fully clothed. "Why do you care?"

Bryan scoffed, rubbing the back of his neck, his fingers brushing against the chain he always wore. "I don't," he muttered, but there was something softer in the way he said it. "I just think it's stupid to miss out on something over some bullshit."

I narrowed my eyes at him, but I didn't argue.

Instead, I let out a slow breath, staring at the ceiling as my heartbeat thrummed in my ears.

I hated that he was right.

And I hated even more that a small part of me wanted him to be the one to pull me out of my own head.

After much internal debate (and some light bullying from Ethan), I did end up putting on a swimsuit. Unfortunately for me, the only ones I had were the bikinis Isabella had packed—small, delicate, revealing. The exact opposite of what I wanted to wear when I felt like crawling out of my own skin. I had settled on the simplest one—a sleek black bikini.

The bus ride to the hot springs was lively. Everyone was talking, laughing, excited about a day of relaxation.

Except me.

I was tense.

Not only because of my scar, but because of something else—something that made my stomach twist even worse.

I didn't know how to swim.

I had never learned.

Water had always made me nervous, and after the pool incident at Bryan's party, that anxiety had only gotten worse. I bit my lip, gripping my hands together as I thought about stepping into the steaming pools, about feeling the water lap at my skin, about not being able to control it.

What if it was too deep?

What if I slipped?

What if—

"Amber," Ethan's voice cut through my spiral, snapping me back to the present. "You're freaking out again."

I exhaled, forcing a small smile. "I'm fine."

He didn't look convinced. "You sure?"

I hesitated before sighing. "I just don't love the idea of getting in the water."

Ethan tilted his head. "You can just stick to the shallow areas, you know?"

I swallowed hard. "Yeah."

"And if it makes you feel better, I'll stay nearby. You won't drown, I promise."

My heart clenched slightly at the kindness in his voice.

I nodded, murmuring, "Thanks."

The warm steam curled around me as I stepped onto the smooth stone path leading to the thermal pools. The scent of minerals lingered in the air, blending with the lush greenery surrounding us. It felt surreal—like stepping into a postcard, the kind of place you'd see in a travel magazine and assume was heavily edited.

The pools were natural, steaming water bubbling gently from underground springs, surrounded by moss-covered rocks and thick jungle trees. Lanterns flickered in the growing dusk, casting a golden hue over everything, and the occasional burst of laughter echoed from different groups already lounging in the water.

I should've been excited. But instead, nerves twisted in my stomach.

My foot was still sore, and I hated the idea of slipping on the wet stones. Worse, the water itself made me anxious. Even though these weren't deep pools, I still didn't like the thought of stepping into something I couldn't control.

"You good?" Ethan's voice pulled me from my thoughts.

I turned to find him watching me, one brow raised. He had already taken off his shirt, standing next to Kevin, who was stretching dramatically like he was about to enter a wrestling match instead of a hot spring.

I forced a small smile. "Yeah, just... taking it in."

Kevin nudged Ethan. "Told you she'd get overwhelmed by the view."

Ethan smirked. "Can't blame her."

I rolled my eyes, but before I could fire back a reply, a deep voice cut through the air behind me.

"Yeah? Or maybe she's scared of slipping."

I turned sharply, already knowing who it was before I even laid eyes on him.

Bryan.

Of course.

I should've been annoyed by his comment, but the moment I saw him, my brain short-circuited.

Because Bryan had taken his shirt off.

And holy shit.

His tanned skin was illuminated by the warm glow of the lanterns, highlighting every sharp line of muscle on his torso. His tattoos—ones I'd only caught glimpses of before—were now on full display. The massive wings stretched across his chest like they belonged to a fallen angel, detailed so perfectly that they almost looked like they could move.

My gaze trailed lower, taking in the ink on his ribs, his biceps, and then—

The script.

Right above the waistband of his dark swim shorts, slanted at an angle, bold and striking.

I couldn't read it from here, but it didn't matter.

I needed to stop looking.

But I couldn't.

Heat flooded my cheeks as I quickly turned my head, trying to act as if I wasn't just checking him out.

I wasn't.

Definitely wasn't.

Bryan must've noticed my hesitation because he stepped closer, his voice quieter now. "You're not gonna fall, Ballerina."

I swallowed.

"I know that," I mumbled, focusing very hard on the rock path in front of me.

Ethan, completely oblivious to my internal struggle, grinned. "Dude, it's not that deep. Literally. The water barely reaches our waists."

Bryan's gaze flicked to him, then back to me, and for some reason, instead of teasing me further, he sighed.

Without a word, he extended his hand toward me.

I stared at it. "What are you doing?"

"Helping you."

"I don't need help."

He scoffed. "Yeah? You've been standing there for five minutes, looking like you're about to bolt."

I glared at him, but before I could refuse again, he took a step closer, lowering his voice.

"If you fall, you could hurt your foot more. Don't be stubborn."

I clenched my jaw, debating whether to argue. But damn it—he wasn't wrong.

Reluctantly, I placed my hand in his, trying to ignore how warm his skin felt against mine. His grip was firm but gentle as he helped me step onto the submerged rocks, guiding me into the pool. The moment the hot water enveloped me, I let out an involuntary sigh, the warmth immediately easing the tension in my muscles.

Ethan, completely unaware of the silent war I was having with myself, grinned. "See? Not so bad."

I nodded, trying to ignore the fact that Bryan was still holding onto my hand, his fingers slightly curled around mine even as I steadied myself.

When I finally let go, I looked up at him.

"Thanks," I muttered.

He smirked, but there was something softer in his gaze. "Try not to drown, Ballerina."

I rolled my eyes, but my heart was doing something weird.

The conversation around us shifted as Kevin started rambling about a random conspiracy theory, drawing Ethan into a debate. I half-listened, but my focus kept straying.

Every so often, my eyes would drift toward Bryan—toward the curve of his jaw, the ink on his chest, the way the water beaded on his skin.

And every time I caught myself, I forced my gaze away.

But I swear—I swear—he was doing the same.

At least once or twice, I saw his dark eyes flick to me, just for a second, before he glanced away.

A slow burn settled in my stomach.

For the first hour, I didn't talk to Bryan.

Not out of anger, not even really on purpose. It was just easier that way.

We sat near the rest of the group, listening to Ethan and Kevin talk, laughing at the occasional joke, but never once did I really look at Bryan. It wasn't like he was talking much either—he just sat there, his arm draped lazily along the edge of the hot spring, eyes half-lidded from the heat.

And yet, despite not saying anything to me, he was watching.

Not obviously.

Not in a way anyone else would notice.

But I felt it.

Every time I adjusted my position, every time I rubbed at my ankle under the water, every time someone moved too fast near me, splashing hot water in my direction—his gaze flickered toward me. Quick, subtle glances, like he was keeping track of me without making it obvious.

It should've annoyed me.

Instead, it made my heart stupidly warm.

I sank deeper into the water, letting my head rest against the smooth rocks behind me, willing myself to relax. This was supposed to be nice. A break. A chance to just be without thinking too much.

So, of course, fate had other plans.

One of the tour guides called out from the side of the pools, asking if anyone wanted to check out a quieter, more secluded area of the hot springs. A few people immediately jumped at the idea, eager to explore a more private section.

I didn't particularly want to go, but before I could even think about moving, someone in the group shifted, sending a sudden wave of water rushing toward me.

It caught me off guard. The warmth, the sensation—it wasn't like a pool, but for a brief second, my brain panicked. I gasped, instinctively reaching out for something to steady myself.

And my hand landed on Bryan's arm.

His entire body tensed at the contact.

I barely had time to process the fact that I was gripping his bicep before he moved.

Without hesitation, without a second thought, Bryan reached out, his other hand bracing against my waist underwater, steadying me before I could slip further into the pool.

A sharp breath left my lips.

Not because I was scared anymore.

Because his hands were on me.

And for a moment, we stayed like that.

His fingers, firm and steady against my waist, the heat of his skin searing through the already-hot water. I swallowed, my heart hammering against my ribs as I finally lifted my gaze to meet his.

His eyes were already on me.

Dark. Searching.

"Estás bien?" His voice was quiet, low.

I forced a nod. "Y-Yeah. Sorry, I just—"

Before I could finish, Ethan called out from the other side of the pool. "Yo, Bryan, Amber—you coming?"

I blinked, momentarily forgetting where we were.

Bryan's jaw tightened slightly before he pulled his hands away, like he just remembered he was touching me.

For a split second, I felt colder than before.

"Yeah," Bryan muttered, voice back to normal. "We're coming."

I wasn't sure if it was a good thing or a bad thing that he said we.

Somehow, the universe conspired against me yet again.

When we reached the quieter area of the hot springs, the rest of the group spread out, lounging in different sections.

And somehow—somehow—I ended up alone with Bryan.

It wasn't entirely alone. The rest of the group was still nearby, just not close enough to hear or see us properly. The steam was thicker in this area, the sound of the water gently lapping against the edges making everything feel softer, quieter.

I didn't know how it happened.

I just knew that when I turned my head, Bryan was there.

And there was no one else.

The water was shallow here, reaching just above my waist. I had propped myself against one of the smooth stone ledges, trying very hard to focus on anything other than the fact that Bryan was standing just a foot away, the water hitting his abs, droplets trickling down his tattooed chest.

This was fine.

Totally fine.

Completely fine.

I shifted, rubbing my fingers together under the water, willing the silence between us to disappear.

But Bryan beat me to it.

"You were scared back there."

It wasn't a question.

I stiffened, my fingers curling into fists beneath the water. "I wasn't."

His lips twitched. "Liar."

I scowled. "It was hot water, Bryan. Not the deep end of a pool."

"Didn't matter," he said, tilting his head slightly. "You panicked for a second."

I clenched my jaw, crossing my arms. "I didn't panic."

Bryan didn't say anything, but the look he gave me said everything.

I hated that he noticed.

I hated even more that he wasn't teasing me about it.

Instead, he exhaled through his nose, running a hand over his jaw. "You ever going to tell me why you're so scared of the water?"

I swallowed. Hard.

"No," I admitted quietly.

Something flickered across his face, but he didn't push.

Instead, he leaned back, letting the water ripple around him, stretching his arms over the ledge.

For a while, we just stayed there.

Neither of us talked. Neither of us moved too much.

Just the sound of water. The heat between us. The occasional flicker of his gaze when he thought I wasn't looking.

And then, without thinking, I sighed, resting my head back against the edge of the spring.

It was the smallest moment of vulnerability.

And yet, I noticed the way Bryan's jaw clenched slightly.

The way his fingers flexed against the rock.

The way his gaze flickered down just for a second before he forced himself to look away.

The tension between us was thick.

Unspoken.

Undeniable.

And I had no idea what to do with it.