“That’s below freezing.” Which is technically impossible since it’s July and we’re in the middle of a heatwave.

“Centigrade, not Fahrenheit.”

“I don’t have a bathing suit with me.”

“So? What do you need a bathing suit for?” His grin is full of sex and promise.

“Good point.” I strip out of my clothes while Alex watches from his bed. Naked, I sprint down the stairs and out the patio door to the backyard. I glance over my shoulder to find him chasing me, shedding his shorts and nearly face planting in the process. I’m almost across the lawn when he loops an arm around my waist and lifts me off the ground. He doesn’t slow as he races toward the edge of the pool. I scream when we take flight, and we land in the balmy water with a massive splash.

Alex keeps his hands on my waist, propelling us upward.

I break the surface with a gasp, laughing. “I almost outran you.”

His left eyebrow lifts. “Not even close.”

“It was totally close.” I hold onto his shoulders so I don’t have to tread water.

“You might’ve had a chance if you hadn’t been naked. It’s a strong motivator for catching you.” His hands are on my waist and migrating north.

“Now we know what would increase your speed during practice.”

“You know what you should practice? Floating on your back,” he says.

“You just want to see my boobs glisten in the moonlight.” I put my foot against his chest, intending to use his solid body to push off. He grabs my ankle and pulls me toward him.

We bob to the edge of the pool where Alex pins me against the side with his body. His smile is soft, sweet, like melty maple sugar candies on my tongue. “You know me so well.”

He wraps my legs around his waist, but keeps me high up, so we’re face to face and the MC isn’t touching the Beave.

“I’m going to start training again soon.”

“Does that mean fewer sleepovers?” It's a good thing my pipes burst; I can stock up on us time.

“I hope not. But I’ll have less free time. I’ll be at the gym and the rink a lot more.”

I’ve been by the gym while Alex was engaged in a light training session. Watching him run and sweat and pump iron is almost obscene.

“Are you worried about how I’m going to deal with that?”

“No.” He rubs his nose against mine. “I’m worried about how I’m going to deal with it.” I love that he’s hard on the outside and a total marshmallow on the inside.

I also know where he’s going with this. “Are you going to ask me to move in with you again?”

“No.” His lips are on my neck, teeth nipping at skin.

Well, that’s a surprise. “No?”

He readjusts his grip, lining things up this time. “Nope. That’s an open invitation. When you’re ready to move in, you let me know.”

It’s not the answer I expect. I try to challenge him, but he kisses me and there are no more words.

It takes more than a week to fix the pipes. After nine days at Alex’s I’m finally able to go back to my apartment. I’m not at all excited about having my own space again, and not because Alex’s house is so much nicer than my crappy apartment. I’ve gotten used to seeing him every day. I even cooked a meal for him—granted all I had to do was set the timer on the oven. I made a salad to go with it. And I chose a bottle of wine. I’m totally domesticable.

The second I open the door to my apartment, I’m smacked in the olfactory senses. It smells like a gym sock covered in rotten eggs. It’s also rankly hot. I discover the gagworthy odor is actually my garbage. By the time I’m done disposing of it, I’m dry heaving and dripping with sweat. It’s not a sexy look for me. I take a tepid shower and debate my options.

Alex will be more than happy to have me back at his place, and I’m happy to stay there. I’m also certain if I go back, I’m not likely to return to my apartment. I’ve been holding out, thinking if I wait until the end of the summer, we’ll have been together long enough for it to be reasonable. Putting a timeline on it doesn’t change whether or not I’m ready for this step.

I pack an entire suitcase full of clothes and throw essential items—such as my home waxing kit and razors—into a box. It says a lot that I’ve never fully unpacked. Six boxes remain in the back of my closet, containing items which should live on shelves or bookcases. I haven’t taken the time to make it happen. This apartment has always been an interim, a stop on the road to another destination.

It’s after nine by the time I cart all my stuff down to my car and drive to Alex’s. I don’t bother to call. I park as close as I can to the front door and wheel my suitcase up the steps. I have the code to get in, but I figure it’s more impactful if I ring the doorbell.

Alex answers the door wearing only a pair of basketball shorts. He’s good at pretty much every sport including balls or pucks.

He looks down at my suitcase. “Hey. Did you forget the code? ”

“My hands were full. Something’s wrong with the air conditioning in my apartment,” I say by way of explanation.

The excitement in his eyes dims, but he grabs my bag just the same. “Oh. So you want to stay here for a couple more days?”

“Actually, I didn’t call the landlord about it.”

“He’ll have to do something, Violet. You can’t go without air on the twentieth floor.”