Chapter 17: Tensions in the Heat

The dinner ends in a relaxed, almost festive atmosphere. It’s been ages since I’ve been able to unwind like this, without constantly being on edge. Between my grandfather’s jokes, my mother’s anecdotes, and Emma throwing me subtle, sidelong glances, I find myself smiling more than once.

As everyone starts to disperse, I realize it might be time to extend this rare moment of calm. I need to clear my head, to shake off the endless cycle of thoughts that have been plaguing me these past few days.

The sauna. The idea strikes me out of nowhere, and the more I think about it, the more obvious it seems. It’s outside, just behind the house, and no one’s probably touched it in ages. Perfect.

I head upstairs to grab a towel from the bathroom, wrap it securely around my waist, and sneak back down quietly. Outside, the air is still warm, but the moment I step into the sauna, it feels like I’m swallowed whole by the heat.

I settle onto the bench, my back against the wall. The space is small, stifling, but oddly enough, it soothes me. Each breath feels like it’s scrubbing me clean, even if it’s probably just an illusion.

I close my eyes, and for a moment, I manage to shut everything out. My mind is blissfully blank. But of course, it doesn’t last.

She comes back. Emma. It’s always her.

I see her smile again from dinner, the way she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she talked about her day. And then, unbidden, my mind flashes to her swimsuit from earlier this afternoon—the way it hugged her body ... I sit up abruptly, clenching my teeth. Fuck, Brice, get a grip.

I take a deep breath and lean back against the wall. I need to stop. I need to focus on anything else. But the heat, the sweat trickling down the back of my neck, the dampness clinging to my skin—it all pulls me back to her.

That’s when I hear it. The handle turns.

My brows knit together as I straighten, my attention snapping toward the door.

It opens, letting in a burst of cool air that momentarily cuts through the suffocating heat. And before I can even process what’s happening—she’s there. Emma.

She’s wearing that swimsuit—the very one that’s been tormenting me all day. Her hair is pulled up into a messy bun, and droplets of water still shimmer on her skin. She freezes for a second, her eyes locking onto mine.

Emma: “Oh, you’re here. Guess we had the same idea.” Her voice is calm, almost casual, but my heart is racing like hell. She’s completely thrown me off balance.

Without waiting for a reply, she closes the door behind her and steps in like it’s nothing. She takes a seat on the bench across from me, moving slowly. The creak of the wood beneath her weight echoes in the small, stifling room.

Fuck.

The heat was already oppressive, but now it’s unbearable. Every tiny movement she makes pulls my focus like a magnet. The damp fabric of her swimsuit clings to her skin, tracing every curve, every detail. I tear my eyes away, but it’s useless. She’s there. Everywhere.

She stretches slowly, a soft sigh slipping from her lips. An almost mundane sound, but in this sticky heat, it echoes like an invitation. My gaze, despite myself, follows the trail of a bead of sweat as it slides from her neck to her collarbone, then lower ... I tear my eyes away, clenching my fists.

She stretches again, raising her arms above her head, and lets out another light sigh. It hits me like a punch to the gut.

Me: “Do ... do you want me to leave?” My voice comes out rough, almost strangled. She looks up at me, visibly caught off guard by the question.

Emma: “No, why?” she replies with a shrug. Emma: “There’s room for two, isn’t there?” Her words are accompanied by a light, innocent smile. But it’s the worst thing she could do. That carefree attitude, that obliviousness ... It’s killing me.

She smiles, perfectly at ease, while I’m drowning in this unbearable tension. My skin feels like it’s on fire, and it has nothing to do with the sauna.

I cross my arms over my chest, as if trying to shield myself—or maybe to hide what’s becoming all too obvious under the towel wrapped around my waist.

Silence settles between us, but it only makes everything worse. Every sound feels magnified: her breathing, the sweat beading on her skin, the faint rustle of her slightest movements.

She leans forward slightly to adjust her swimsuit, and my eyes—traitorous, uncontrollable—drop before I can stop them. My mind spins out of control. If she knew what was running through my head right now, she’d kill me.

The silence becomes unbearable. The oppressive heat of the sauna, the relentless pounding of my heart, Emma’s nearness ... It all crashes together, a volatile mix, and I feel like I’m on the verge of snapping.

Finally, she breaks the ice.

Emma: “Thanks, by the way. For earlier ... on the beach.” Her voice is soft, sincere, but it hits me like a punch to the chest. I nod, keeping my mouth shut. I’m afraid that if I speak, my voice will give me away.

Emma: “Seriously, Brice. If you hadn’t been there...” She trails off, her eyes locked on mine. She plays with a strand of her hair, like that small, innocent gesture could somehow make her words weigh less.

Me: “Don’t worry about it, Emma.” My voice comes out rougher than I meant it to. Not because I’m annoyed, but because I’m so tightly wound I can barely get the words out.

She keeps looking at me for a moment longer, then smiles. That smile. It wrecks me. It looks so sweet, so harmless, and yet it crushes me like a damn freight train.

Emma: “You know, you’re acting kind of weird lately. Not like yourself.” I look away. Fuck.

Me: “What? No, it’s just ... I’m a little tired, that’s all.” She raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it.

Emma: “Tired? For days? Come on, Brice. Something’s up, I can tell.” I grip my thighs hard, my fists clenching as I try to keep myself together. If she keeps looking at me like that, I’m going to lose it.