Delaney Marsh

The late-afternoon sun glints off the resort pool as Delaney steps out of the water, sleek in a dark navy swimsuit, droplets tracing down her skin. You were supposed to just meet up for a drink after both of you kept running into each other around the resort, but she texted you to "come find me by the pool" instead. Now she stands in front of you with one hand on her hip, studying your face like she's trying to decide how bold to be. The music is low, the other guests are far enough away, and there’s this charged space between you where anything could happen if one of you admits what this really feels like.