Soda-Pop
The sun had just set, and the air in the backyard felt warm and inviting, the water in the jacuzzi bubbling lazily around you. The steam rose in gentle swirls, almost like the world was encouraging you to relax.
And, of course, that’s when he showed up.
"Nice to see you enjoying yourself," Patrick’s voice rang out, playful and cocky, as he stepped into the jacuzzi with that signature smirk on his face. His wet hair clung to his forehead, droplets of water dripping down his neck. He was shirtless, still in his tennis shorts, and you couldn't help but feel the heat creep up your neck.
"Patrick," you said, trying to sound casual and pushing the thoughts aside. "You're late."
He slid in beside you, the water splashing around him. "I had to make an entrance," he teased, leaning back against the edge of the tub. "It wouldn’t be dramatic if I didn’t keep you waiting."
You roll your eyes, but couldn't hide the smile tugging at your lips. "Of course. How could I forget?"
Patrick glanced at you, his grin turning a little more mischievous. "I’m guessing you’ve been thinking about me."
You raised an eyebrow, giving him a skeptical look. "What? Just because you think you're unforgettable?"
"I don’t think I’m unforgettable," he said, eyes twinkling with the challenge he always brought to the table. "I know I am."
You splashed him playfully, laughing when he leaned back with an exaggerated "Hey!" in protest. But even as you tried to pretend his cocky attitude didn’t affect you, you couldn't stop yourself from remembering the night before, when you had been sorting through your box of memories. The one with all the letters, photographs, and little tokens from your past crushes.
You had found it there, tucked beneath a few folded notes—a painting you'd made of him after one of his tennis matches. The image was still vivid in your mind, like it had been just yesterday. It was a close-up, capturing him in a rare moment of vulnerability, sweat dripping down his forehead, his hair damp and messy before he wiped his face with a towel. But despite his exhaustion, his expression was more... alive. Like he was daring the world to challenge him, and, at that exact moment, you realized he was also daring you to pay attention.
You had worked on that painting for days, carefully choosing colors that would convey the raw energy of the moment but giving it a touch of your own like. It had been hard not to fall for the guy you’d immortalized on that canvas, but it wasn’t just the picture that had made your heart race. It was the way Patrick had looked at you that day.
Patrick's voice interrupted your thoughts. "You’re thinking about something," he said, leaning toward you slightly. "What is it? You sure you’re not thinking about that painting you made of me?"
Your heart skipped. He had no idea, right?
You laughed, trying to keep your composure. "Maybe. What if I was?"
"Well, then," Patrick said with a grin, his gaze narrowing playfully, "you must’ve captured my best side. I know I'm a masterpiece."
You couldn’t help but snort at the audacity of it. "A masterpiece? Please, you’re barely a work in progress."
Patrick tilted his head, his grin deepening. "Barely? I think I’m at least worth a painting or two. Wouldn’t you agree?" He leaned in a little closer, teasing. "You really know how to make a guy feel special."
For a split second, your heart did that familiar flutter. His words, his presence—they still affected you more than you cared to admit.
"I’m starting to regret that painting," you teased, brushing your hair back.
Patrick raised an eyebrow, unbothered. "You can't regret something that’s perfect."
You rolled your eyes, the playful tension in the air undeniable. "Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that."
He chuckled, the sound vibrating in the air. "I think you should admit it: I’m unforgettable. Not just in paintings, but in real life too."
You stared at him for a moment, half-laughing, half-feeling something more than just amusement. He was still the same Patrick. Cocky. Playful. Always just the right amount of challenge.
"You're lucky we are pretending," you said, leaning back against the edge of the jacuzzi, finally letting yourself relax a little. "Otherwise, I'd be really annoyed by you."
"Oh, I know," he said, his grin wide and triumphant. "I’m irresistible."
"You're insufferable," you corrected, but even as you said it, you could feel yourself laughing.
“And you’re impossible,” he shot back, eyeing you and tilting his head slightly.
For a moment, everything felt simple. Like none of the complications of the past mattered, just the two of you in the warm water, trading jabs, just as you always had. Maybe he was a little cocky, a little full of himself—but you couldn’t deny it. You had a soft spot for the guy who had always kept you on your toes.
As if on cue, he leaned in again, this time less playful, more intent, and his voice lowered, his words almost a whisper. “Like I said, you’re impossible to read. But I think I’m starting to get the hang of you.”
“Are you sure about that?” you asked softly, suddenly aware of the heat between you, the close space.
He didn’t answer you. Instead, his hand reached over, brushing your arm ever so lightly as he moved to sit beside you. The sudden proximity had the air thick with anticipation.
The bubbles shifted between you, adding a moment of disarming softness, as if the jacuzzi itself was urging you both to stay in this suspended reality a little longer. And before you could even second-guess yourself, Patrick’s hand was gently resting on your cheek. The touch was so subtle, but so firm, grounding you.
Patrick’s grin widened. Without warning, he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was soft at first, testing, questioning. But it deepened, slowly, as though the moment was unfolding all around you, the tension you’d been dancing with finally giving way. His hand moved to your waist, pulling you a fraction closer, the heat of his body mixing with the warmth of the water.
It was sweet and gentle, so different of how you would think his kisses could be. Like you were figuring out how to breathe in the same space for the first time.
〜 ☆
