FUTILE DEVICES  🍑  ───  II.
WICKED GAME

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Everything slipped so fast by in the dreamy haze of an Italian summer, as if time itself had melted under the relentless sun. Clementine fell into a rhythm: early mornings with her mother in the kitchen, her hands sticky with fruit as they prepared preserves or pastries for the household; long afternoons by the river or at the villa's shaded terrace, where conversations ebbed and flowed like the current, languid and unhurried; and evenings, always evenings, where Drew's presence lingered like the heat in the air, impossible to ignore.

She tried not to think about him. And failed.

She told herself it was just the summer. It had to be. Summers in Italy were made for fleeting infatuations, weren't they? The kind that dissolved like sugar in coffee when the weather cooled and routine returned. But the way Drew smiled—so easily, so disarmingly—unmoored her from these sensible thoughts. There was something in the way he belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once, his charm like an open invitation to a secret she didn't know she was waiting to hear.

In the mornings, as she and her mother worked side by side in the kitchen, she tried to focus on the tang of lemon zest or the warm sweetness of ripened figs. But her mind wandered, tracing Drew's silhouette as he moved through the villa, his shirt untucked, a cigarette balanced carelessly between his fingers. She hated the way she noticed him. How his laughter from another room made her pulse quicken.

One golden late morning, Clementine found herself seated with her longtime friends, Enea and Chloe, beneath the sprawling canopy of the town café. The piazza around them thrummed with life, a symphony of soft laughter and animated voices, the clink of glasses, and the occasional scrape of a chair against the timeworn cobblestones. The scent of strong espresso and late-blooming jasmine curled through the air, carrying with it an intangible sense of timelessness.

Enea leaned back in his chair, his green eyes catching the light like sunlit moss. His unruly curls framed his face with an endearing disarray, and the way he watched her—quiet, intent—always made her feel as though he saw more than she ever intended to show. He had been a constant in her life, steady as the hills surrounding the village, but there were days when she wondered how much of him she truly understood. Today, that quiet intensity felt sharper, closer, as though he were studying her in a way that made her chest tighten.

"So, questo Drew," Enea said at last, his voice measured but not without a trace of playful challenge. "Un ospite interessante, no?"

The name lingered in the air, and Clementine's heart gave an involuntary flutter. She could feel Chloe's gaze slide toward her, curious and knowing, even before her friend spoke.

Chloe's auburn hair glinted copper in the late-afternoon sunlight as she leaned forward, resting her elbows lightly on the table. She adjusted her sunglasses with a graceful flick of her wrist, her movements as poised as a dancer's. "Charming, though, isn't he?" she said, her voice like the cool splash of a stream on a warm day. "For an American, at least. He seems... quite mysterious." The playful lilt in her tone couldn't entirely mask the spark of genuine interest in her words.

Clementine's fingers tightened around her cup, the ceramic warm against her palms. She attempted a shrug, though it felt forced, as though she were trying to shake off the weight of their stares. "He's my father's guest," she replied, her voice quieter than she intended, the words deliberate but strangely hollow.

Enea raised a single brow, a half-smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your father's guest," he echoed, his tone softer now, teasing but gentle. "Eppure, sembri conoscerlo meglio di così." There was a question in his voice, unspoken but unmistakable.

She glanced down at the swirling remnants of her cappuccino, the familiar warmth of the cup grounding her. "He's here for research," she said, the explanation falling from her lips like a pebble into water, rippling outward in uncertainty.

But even as she said it, her thoughts betrayed her, conjuring Drew's image with an unsettling clarity: the sharp lines of his profile as he listened intently to her father speak, the way his hands moved when he explained his ideas, his blue eyes—startlingly vivid, as if they held the sea itself—and the way they seemed to darken in the shade, taking on the depth of twilight. There was a pull to him, a quiet gravity that made her feel both drawn and unmoored.

Chloe leaned closer, her smile sly, as though she had caught something in Clementine's expression. "He's not just here for research, though, is he?" she said, her tone lilting with teasing curiosity.

Clementine looked up sharply, caught between irritation and laughter. "You're imagining things," she said, though the heat rising to her cheeks betrayed her. She tried to change the subject, but Enea's gaze lingered, and Chloe's knowing smile didn't waver.

"Sei troppo misteriosa, Clementine," Enea said, shaking his head slightly, though his lips twitched as though he might laugh. "Stai nascondendo qualcosa."

After a long pause, Clementine sighed, leaning back in her chair. A breeze stirred the air, carrying with it the faintest scent of lavender from the nearby hills. "Why don't you both come to the villa tonight?" she said at last, the words tumbling out before she could think better of them. "You can meet him yourselves. Then you can draw your own conclusions."

Chloe's eyes sparkled, her enthusiasm barely contained. "I'd love that," she said, her voice quick and bright. "It'll be nice to see this mysterious Drew in person."

Enea tilted his head, considering her for a moment before nodding slowly. "Va bene," he said, his tone easy, though his gaze held something deeper. "But just so you know, non aspettarti che mi faccia incantare così facilmente."

Clementine laughed, a sound that felt lighter than she had in days. And yet, as the conversation shifted, a small knot of unease remained in her chest. She had invited them on impulse, but now, she wasn't sure what she had set into motion. The villa, so often her sanctuary, suddenly felt like the stage for something larger, something she couldn't quite name but felt inexorably drawn toward.

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It was late afternoon when Clementine's friends arrived, their presence as familiar as ever.
Enea strode into the garden first, his reddish hair catching the golden artificial light, a grin tugging at his lips as his green eyes sought Clementine out. There was a boyish charm to him, an ease in the way he moved that had always made him the center of attention in their group. But there was something else there too, something softer and quieter that Clementine had noticed before but never fully acknowledged—the way his eyes lingered on her just a little too long, the way his laughter came too easily when she was near.

Chloe followed close behind, hair pinned back with care, her eyes bright with curiosity. She carried herself with a kind of languid elegance that always seemed just shy of deliberate, her British accent softening the edges of her words. If Enea was the storm, Chloe was the calm, her presence steady and grounding, though her sharp wit often left no room for argument.

As they embraced Clementine, the weight of their arms around her felt like a return to normalcy—a world that existed before Drew. But even as she laughed with them, something in her chest tightened, her gaze flitting toward the villa where Drew had disappeared moments earlier.

"You seem distracted," Chloe said, her voice lilting with a teasing edge. She brushed an invisible strand of hair from Clementine's shoulder, studying her face with an intensity that always unnerved her.

"I'm fine," Clementine replied quickly, too quickly.

Clementine's cheeks flushed as she turned away from Enea's gaze, unsettled by the weight of his words and what they implied. Her thoughts, however, drifted inevitably toward Drew, toward the unspoken pull between them that she couldn't quite understand—or resist.

That night, the villa seemed to come alive with light and sound. Lanterns strung between trees swayed gently in the breeze, casting golden pools of illumination over the garden. Mathis had prepared a simple but sumptuous dinner, the kind that stretched late into the night, with wine flowing freely and conversation moving like waves—ebbing and rising with bursts of laughter and quiet lulls.

Drew joined them just as the first plates were being passed around. He was wearing a pale linen shirt, its sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a pair of dark trousers that hung low on his hips. Clementine noticed how the lantern light softened the edges of his sharp features, how the warm glow made his blue eyes seem impossibly vivid.

"Ah, you must be Drew," Enea said, rising to clasp his hand with an enthusiasm that made Clementine cringe inwardly. "I've heard about you."

Drew's lips quirked upward in a polite smile. "Good things, I hope."

"Only things," Enea said cryptically, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. "We'll see if they're good by the end of the night."

Clementine watched the exchange from her seat, a knot forming in her chest. She half-expected Drew to brush off Enea's charm with his usual air of nonchalance, but instead, he matched the energy with an ease that surprised her.

As the evening wore on, Clementine found herself caught between moments—between Enea's jokes, Chloe's sharp observations, and Drew's occasional comments, which were few but always deliberate. His presence at the table was magnetic, pulling attention toward him even when he was silent. She hated how aware she was of every movement he made, of the way his fingers curled around his wine glass, the way his laugh—rare but low and genuine—seemed to reverberate in her chest.

At one point, Chloe leaned over, her lips brushing against Clementine's ear. "He's handsome," she whispered, her tone playful but curious.

Clementine's cheeks burned. "He's just a guest," she said, as if that explained anything.

"And?" Chloe arched a brow, her black eyes glittering. "That doesn't make him any less handsome."

Clementine's gaze flickered toward Drew, who was listening intently as Enea recounted some wild story about an ill-fated attempt to steal a Vespa in Rome. She looked away quickly when Drew's blue eyes met hers, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Later, as the conversation shifted and the group began to relax, Drew leaned back in his chair, catching Clementine's eye across the table. "Do you always spend your summers like this?" he asked, his tone casual but laced with something she couldn't quite name.

"Like what?" she asked, tilting her head.

"Surrounded by interesting people," he said, glancing briefly at Enea and Chloe before his gaze returned to her, "and still managing to seem... somewhere else."

The comment caught her off guard, her breath hitching as she searched for a response. Was she that obvious? That transparent?

"Maybe I like keeping a part of myself somewhere else," she said finally, her voice steady despite the way her pulse quickened under his scrutiny.

Drew's lips curved into a slow, almost teasing smile. "Maybe," he said, his voice low enough that it felt like it was meant only for her.

The gathering then began to thin as the night deepened, the wine taking its toll on even Enea's boundless energy. Clementine excused herself quietly, slipping away from the table and into the shadowed garden. The air was cool now, a welcome reprieve from the day's heat, and the scent of lemons hung heavy in the air.

She wandered toward the far edge of the garden, where the lantern light barely reached, her thoughts tangled and restless. She heard footsteps behind her before she saw him, and her heart leapt in a way that both thrilled and annoyed her.

"Leaving the party early?" Drew's voice was soft, almost teasing.

She turned to find him standing a few steps away, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. The faint glow of the villa lights outlined his figure, his broad shoulders and steady posture making him seem taller, more present. His blue eyes, now shadowed by the dim light, still seemed to pierce through her.

"I needed air," she said simply, crossing her arms over her chest.

He nodded, taking a step closer. "Me too."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was thick, charged, as if the unspoken words they carried were pressing against the night itself.

"I think your friends like me," Drew said finally, his tone light but his gaze intent.

Clementine couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her. "They're very welcoming."

"And you?" he asked, his voice dropping slightly. "Do you welcome everyone like this?"

The question hung in the air, its weight settling between them. She didn't know how to answer, so she didn't. Instead, she turned toward the path that led back to the villa, her steps deliberate, though her pulse raced.

"Goodnight, Drew," she said over her shoulder, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

She didn't look back, but she felt his eyes on her as she walked away, the tension between them stretching taut, like a thread waiting to snap.

As she turned to leave, the soft crunch of gravel under her sandals filling the silence, Drew's voice reached her again, low and almost hesitant, cutting through the night like a thread pulled taut.

"Clementine," he said, stopping her mid-step. She glanced back, her breath catching as she met his gaze, his blue eyes darker now in the dim light, searching hers.

"Do you always keep people at arm's length... or is it just me?"

His question lingered in the air, intimate and disarming, leaving her exposed in a way that felt both unsettling and magnetic. For a moment, she didn't know if she wanted to answer—or if she even could.

Clementine froze, her pulse a riot in her chest. She hadn't expected him to ask that, hadn't expected him to see her that clearly, as if he'd stripped away her carefully curated armor with nothing but a glance and a question.

She turned fully to face him now, the faint glow from the villa spilling onto the sharp angles of his face. There was no teasing curve to his lips this time, no trace of the disarming charm he wielded so effortlessly. Drew looked at her like he was waiting, but not impatiently, as if he could stand there all night in silence if that's what it took.

"I don't know," she said finally, her voice quiet but steady, the truth slipping out before she could stop it. "Maybe I do."

His gaze softened, but his intensity didn't waver. He took a small step closer, closing just enough distance to make her acutely aware of the space—tiny, fragile—still between them.

"Why?" he asked, and the word was spoken so gently that it felt more like a whisper against her skin than a question.

She searched his face, the sharp line of his jaw, the slight furrow in his brow, the way his lips hovered just on the edge of something she couldn't name. She wanted to look away, to retreat into the safe cocoon of her solitude, but his presence held her there, grounded her.

"It's easier," she said, her voice nearly a whisper. "I don't have to... think too much about anyone that way."

His head tilted slightly, as if he were studying her, as if her words were a riddle he was determined to solve. "But what if someone wanted you to think about them?" he asked, his voice low, carrying a weight that settled somewhere deep in her chest.

Her breath hitched, her heart beating so loudly she was sure he could hear it. She didn't have an answer—not one she was ready to admit, not to herself and certainly not to him. Instead, she turned back toward the villa, needing to escape the intensity of his gaze before it unraveled her completely.

"Goodnight, Drew," she said again, this time softer, almost apologetic.

She began to walk away, her steps slower, as if part of her was hoping he'd call her back, even though she knew he wouldn't.

But then, just as she reached the edge of the garden, his voice came again, quieter this time, almost an afterthought.

"Goodnight, Clementine."

The way he said her name stayed with her as she slipped into the villa, her thoughts tangled in the unspoken tension of the moment. She told herself she'd let it go, that by morning it would fade like the night. But deep down, she knew it wouldn't.

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The next morning arrived in soft amber light, filtering through Clementine's curtains and painting her room in long strokes of gold. She had slept fitfully, her mind circling around Drew's words from the night before like a moth drawn to a flame. Do you always keep people at arm's length, or is it just me? The question seemed to pulse within her, steady and inescapable.

She lay in bed longer than usual, staring at the ceiling, her heart an uneven rhythm beneath her ribs. She couldn't decide if she was annoyed by his forwardness or captivated by it. Maybe both. He had seen through her with an unsettling ease, as if all her carefully constructed defenses were just gauze in his hands. And yet, despite the vulnerability he'd unearthed, she felt something else too—a quiet thrill, a pull she couldn't explain, or maybe didn't want to.

At breakfast, Drew was already at the table when she arrived, wearing a crisp linen shirt rolled up at the elbows, the sunlight catching on the faint gold undertones of his skin. He looked up from his coffee and met her gaze with a slight nod, his expression unreadable but undeniably present. Mathis was at the head of the table, animated as he spoke about the day's plans—a trip to the Biblioteca Civica, an ancient library in the heart of the city.

As Mathis described the texts they'd be examining, Clementine kept her focus on her toast, only glancing at Drew when she thought he wouldn't notice. But of course, he did. He always seemed to notice.

The library was a marvel, its vaulted ceilings towering above them, adorned with intricate frescoes that seemed to ripple and glow in the shifting light from the tall arched windows. Shelves lined the walls from floor to ceiling, filled with books whose spines were worn with age, their pages heavy with the scent of history.

Clementine trailed behind her father and Drew as they explored the collection, her fingers grazing the polished wood of the tables and the cool stone of the walls. She found herself acutely aware of Drew's presence, of the way his voice carried softly as he spoke with Mathis about a particular manuscript. His words were measured, thoughtful, his tone carrying that same quiet intensity she'd begun to associate with him.

Every so often, Drew's gaze would flicker to her, a brief glance that felt like a touch, lingering just long enough to leave her unsettled. She tried to focus on the books, on the space, on anything but him, but it was impossible. He was magnetic, even when he wasn't trying to be.

Later, while Mathis was engrossed in conversation with the library's archivist, Drew wandered to a quieter corner of the library, where the light was softer and the air seemed heavier with the weight of time. Clementine hesitated, watching him from a distance, her mind warring with itself before she finally followed.

She found him standing by a tall window, the sunlight catching in his hair and tracing the sharp lines of his profile. He didn't turn when she approached, but she could tell he knew she was there.

"You're quiet today," he said, his voice low, as if anything louder would disturb the fragile stillness of the library.

"So are you," she replied, coming to stand beside him.

He glanced at her then, his blue eyes sharp and searching. "You seem distracted."

She let out a soft laugh, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And you seem very interested in noticing that."

For a moment, he said nothing, his gaze holding hers in a way that made her pulse quicken. Then he smiled, a faint curve of his lips that softened the tension between them.

"Maybe I am," he said, his tone casual but his eyes anything but.

Her breath caught, and she looked away, pretending to focus on the view outside the window—the narrow streets below, the red-tiled roofs glowing in the afternoon sun. But even as she turned her face away, she felt the weight of his attention, a gravity that seemed to draw her closer to him.

"You're not what I expected," he said after a long pause, his voice quieter now, as if he were speaking more to himself than to her.

She looked at him then, surprised. "What did you expect?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied her, his gaze moving over her face as if searching for something he couldn't quite name.

"Someone... different," he said finally. "Less complicated. Less interesting."

Clementine's heart stumbled in her chest, his words settling over her like a challenge. "I think you're mistaking me for someone else," she said, her voice steady but her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress.

He smiled again, that same knowing curve of his lips. "I don't think I am."

The air between them felt charged, a current running beneath the surface of their words. She wanted to say something, to break the tension, but the words wouldn't come. Instead, she stood there, caught in the pull of him, wondering how he managed to make her feel so exposed and so alive all at once.

For a moment, they simply looked at each other, the silence between them more telling than anything they could have said. Then Drew stepped back, his gaze lingering on her for just a beat longer before he turned away.

"Your father's probably wondering where we are," he said, his tone lighter now, though the intensity in his eyes hadn't fully faded.

Clementine nodded, her throat tight, and followed him back toward the main hall of the library. But even as they rejoined Mathis, the weight of their conversation stayed with her, pressing against her chest like an unanswered question.
The afternoon wore on in a slow, almost dreamlike haze. The city outside the library seemed to hum with a life of its own, but Clementine barely noticed. She could still feel the imprint of Drew's gaze on her skin, the way his presence seemed to linger in the air between them. Every time she glanced in his direction, he was just a fraction too far away, his eyes always watching—waiting, perhaps. His words, soft and intimate, echoed in her mind like a melody she couldn't shake. Someone... different. Less complicated. Less interesting.

She couldn't decide if she wanted to deny it or embrace it. Both thoughts tangled together, making her restless.

They spent a few more hours among the manuscripts, Mathis enthusiastically diving into the texts he had come to study, but Clementine found herself distracted. Her eyes would flicker over the pages in front of her, but her mind was somewhere else entirely, following the curve of Drew's silhouette across the room, tracing the slow movements of his hands as he turned the delicate pages of a centuries-old book.

When she dared to steal a glance at him again, she caught him staring back at her. His expression was unreadable, a faint furrow between his brows that seemed to suggest he was thinking deeply about something. About her, perhaps. The thought made her pulse stutter, and she quickly looked down at the book in front of her, pretending to focus on the words, though they felt like nonsense.

She had never been good at pretending. And with Drew, it seemed impossible.

Mathis interrupted her thoughts, coming over to her with a stack of old papers in his hands, his face alight with excitement.

"Clementine, darling, look at these—these are some of the earliest translations of Virgil. You should see the quality of the ink and the parchment. Marvelous! The antiquarians will love this," he said, motioning to the papers as he sat beside her.

Clementine nodded absently, trying her best to focus, but her thoughts kept straying back to Drew. The way his presence seemed to fill every corner of the room, how he made the mundane feel significant, how everything in her chest tightened whenever he came near.

She didn't notice it at first, but when she turned to look up from her book, she saw him standing near the archway, looking directly at her. His posture was casual, but his eyes held a flicker of something more—something raw, something that made her heart race.

Mathis continued speaking, but Clementine's mind was no longer there. She felt the pull of Drew like a magnet, drawing her in, and for the briefest moment, she wondered what would happen if she allowed herself to fall.

But before she could act on the thought, Drew turned away, his steps taking him toward the door. And as if on cue, her father looked up, giving her a nod.

"Clementine, sweetheart, let's go. We've spent enough time here for today. I'm sure Drew is ready to leave as well."

The words hung in the air like a soft invitation.

Without thinking, Clementine stood, her chair scraping against the stone floor. She had no idea what was happening, but her feet moved of their own accord, trailing behind her father as they followed Drew outside, into the warm embrace of the late afternoon sun.

The city was quiet now, the streets emptying as the sun began to dip behind the horizon. Drew led the way, his strides long and easy, but Clementine stayed just a little behind. She didn't know why, but something in her wanted the space—needed the distance. And yet, every time her gaze flicked toward him, she felt her heart beat a little faster. It was as if there was an invisible thread pulling her closer, though she was determined to keep her distance.

When they finally reached the villa, back for dinner, Drew paused, turning slightly to face her.

"You should come with me to the lake tomorrow," he said, his voice cool but carrying an underlying warmth. "The weather's perfect for it."

Clementine opened her mouth to decline, her instinct telling her to protect herself, to keep things light and casual. But then, something shifted. Maybe it was the way he said it, so casually, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, or maybe it was the way the afternoon light caught the angles of his face, softening the edges of his intensity.

But before she could stop herself, the words came tumbling out.

"Alright. I'll come."

His eyes flickered in surprise, just for a moment, before a slow smile spread across his face. It was the kind of smile that made her chest tighten and her skin flush, and before she knew it, her heart was completely unmoored.

"I'll pick you up in the morning, after breakfast," he said, turning to walk toward his room. His steps were steady, but she could tell he was waiting for her reaction, waiting to see what she'd do next.

Clementine stood there for a long moment, her heart in her throat. The sound of Drew's footsteps faded as he disappeared around the corner, but the feeling he left behind stayed with her—like the quiet hum of something powerful, something inevitable.

And as the evening air grew cooler, she couldn't help but think that tomorrow would bring something she wasn't quite prepared for.

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The next morning came quickly, the sunlight filtering through the trees in dappled patterns as it kissed the earth. Clementine woke early, her thoughts once again spiraling around Drew's smile, his words from the day before. I'll pick you up in the morning. She hadn't quite known what to expect from today, but as she prepared for it, a certain tension coiled inside her—a strange mixture of excitement and unease. It was a quiet anticipation that settled into her bones as she dressed, choosing a simple sundress, the fabric light and breezy against her skin, her hair loosely tied up to escape the heat.

Mathis had already left for the morning, excited about more texts to catalog, so it was just Clementine and Drew, though she couldn't quite put her finger on why that felt so significant. She couldn't help but wonder if it was the way Drew made everything feel like it was wrapped in an unspoken promise, like something was always hanging just beneath the surface, waiting to be uncovered.

When Drew arrived, his figure in the doorway was framed by the bright sunlight, his face half-shadowed. He was carrying a cooler, the faint sound of bottles clinking inside it. His casual dress—beige shorts and a dark blue shirt that clung to his frame just enough to show the outline of his muscles—was a perfect contrast to the idyllic surroundings, as if he were just another part of the landscape, as effortless as the morning breeze.

"Ready?" he asked, his eyes lighting up when they met hers, that quiet, almost impish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn't wait for her response but turned toward the car, leaving her only with the soft scent of the aftershave he wore and the unsettling pull she already felt toward him.

The walk to the lake was quiet but comfortable. The world outside seemed to blur as they made their way out of the garden, the roads narrow and winding through the hills until they reached the edge of the water. The lake lay still, the surface a perfect mirror of the sky above, as if nature itself were holding its breath. Drew placed himself under the shade of a few trees, the area serene and secluded, just the way he had promised.

"Come on," Drew said, reaching back to grab the cooler. He walked toward the water's edge, and Clementine followed slowly, feeling the weight of his presence behind her, like something steady and unshakable. She told herself not to pay attention to the way his arms moved, the subtle flex of his muscles under his shirt. She told herself not to notice the way his movements were measured but natural, like a man who had lived his life as if everything he touched was just another piece of something bigger, more meaningful.

Drew spread out a blanket on the grass near the shore, the bright blue fabric a stark contrast to the soft green of the grass and the deep blue of the lake. He opened the cooler with a satisfied sound and pulled out a few beers, handing one to Clementine. The cold bottle felt refreshing in her hand, a welcome relief from the warmth of the sun. He also pulled out a bag of peaches, their skin flushed with ripeness, the sweet fragrance of them making her mouth water.

"Careful," Drew said, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he handed her a peach. "These are the best ones. I thought we could have a little snack before we swim."

Clementine took the peach, its flesh tender beneath her fingers. She bit into it, the juice spilling over her lips and down her chin. Drew's eyes were on her, and for a brief second, she felt that same pull, that same magnetic tension she couldn't escape. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, trying to hide the sudden flush in her cheeks, but there was no hiding from the way her heart fluttered in her chest.

"You're not so neat with that peach, huh?" Drew teased, his smile warm but knowing, as if he knew exactly how she was feeling but wasn't going to let it show. There was a familiarity to the way he looked at her, a kind of quiet understanding that made her feel both vulnerable and seen in a way she couldn't describe.

"Just hungry," she muttered, but there was a softness in her voice that surprised her.

"I can tell," he replied with a low chuckle. "I brought a few extras, in case you needed more." He leaned back against the blanket, popping open his own beer. He took a long sip before looking at her again. "It's a shame, though. I was hoping we'd get to the swimming part before you devoured all the peaches."

She shot him a playful glare but couldn't help the small laugh that escaped her lips. The sound felt foreign to her in this setting, free and unguarded, and she realized she was already more at ease than she had been since their first encounter. Drew had this way of drawing things out of her, making her feel like she could drop her walls, if only for a moment. And for the first time, she was starting to wonder what it would feel like to let him in, to stop holding herself back.

"You want to swim?" he asked, his voice low and casual, as if it were the most natural question in the world.

She nodded, though the thought of being in the water with him, so close, sent a flutter through her chest. Drew had a way of making everything feel like an invitation, even when he wasn't speaking. There was a languid ease to the way he moved, and something about it made her feel like she was suddenly part of his world, one where everything was full of possibilities.

She followed him to the edge of the water, standing there for a moment, feeling the cool breeze against her skin, watching as he stripped off his shirt, revealing the tan, defined muscles of his chest. Clementine looked away quickly, her heart racing as the heat surged into her cheeks. She didn't want him to notice her reaction. Didn't want him to see how his presence alone could make her feel so... exposed.

The lake was perfect, its water refreshing against the heat of the day. They swam side by side, the distance between them almost imperceptible, the water flowing around them like an unspoken rhythm. She could feel the brush of his body as they moved, every now and then, the press of his arm against hers, his hand grazing hers by accident. It was all so natural, but the tension simmered beneath the surface, like a storm waiting to break.

At one point, they paused to rest, floating on their backs in the still water, watching the sky shift from blue to deeper hues as the sun began to dip lower. She couldn't help herself. She turned her head slightly to look at him. Drew was lying there, eyes closed, his face relaxed in a way that made him seem both far away and more present than ever.

His arm brushed hers once more, the movement so casual, yet so charged, that it felt like the water around them pulsed with something unspoken. Clementine held her breath, the space between them narrowing with every passing second. She felt the heat of his body still lingering in the space between them, his presence so intense, so palpable, that her skin tingled. She wanted to move closer, wanted to feel that warmth, but the fear of breaking the fragile spell kept her suspended in that delicate, weightless moment.

"Drew..." Her voice came out softer than she'd intended, her throat tight, betraying the way she felt, the way he made her feel.

He opened his eyes slowly, meeting hers with an intensity that made her heart skip. "What is it?"

She wasn't sure why she said it. Maybe it was the peace of the lake, the way the evening was wrapping itself around them like a blanket. Maybe it was because, in that moment, she felt herself beginning to unravel in front of him, piece by piece.

"I'm... I'm not sure what I'm doing here," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. Her words hung between them, fragile and exposed, like a thread waiting to snap.

Drew shifted slightly, his hand brushing against hers again, and this time, he didn't pull away. The touch was brief, but it was enough to make her breath catch in her throat, enough to make her heart beat a little faster. She didn't know if it was the closeness of the water, the weight of the moment, or simply the unspoken bond between them, but everything in her was tuned to him, to the way his presence felt almost electric, a current running just beneath the surface of the calm lake.

"You don't have to know everything," he said, his voice quieter now, his gaze unreadable, yet somehow intimate. "Not right now."

Clementine closed her eyes, the sensation of his touch still lingering on her skin, and for a moment, she let herself drift, let herself be carried by the weight of the moment. There was something undeniably magnetic about Drew, something that made her want to stay here with him, in this moment, where everything else could slip away. The water between them seemed to hum, the world faded, and for the briefest of moments, she was caught in something more than just a fleeting attraction. Something deeper. Something she wasn't sure she could name, but something that made her wonder—what if she didn't need to?

━━━━━ author's note !
second chapter is finally here !!! i swear to god i'm obsessed with the writing of this story, this chapter may be the longest of the entire book as of today LOL

can you sense the tension ??? because i can cut it with a knife 🌝 also i fucking live for the drew content recently...if you want to write down some good drew fanfic for me to read it would be so appreciated !!!

let me know what you think and give a little star 🌟 if you like! interact pls i would really appreciate to know that you think about the story

thanks for the attention 💗