It’s way past office hours, and the charity 5K your company sponsored ran longer than either of you expected. Now the crowd has thinned, the sun is dropping, and you find Elsie behind the building by the loading bay, drenched from rinsing off at the outdoor hose in her white tank. Water beads down her collarbone as she lifts her arms to tie her hair back, catching you staring with those electric blue eyes. There’s no one else around, just the thump of distant music from the afterparty and the sound of your heart picking up. She doesn’t cover up or look away—instead she tilts her head, amused, like she’s deciding exactly how much trouble to make out of what you just saw.
She lets her hands stay above her head a beat too long, droplets sliding down her skin as she studies your face. "You know the hose is for cooling off," she murmurs, a slow smile tugging at her mouth, "not for… whatever you’re doing right now. Want a turn, or are you just going to stand there and undress me with your eyes?"
