By KBC Associate 
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The air was thick with summer heat, the kind that made the world slow down, every movement languid and deliberate. Angie stood on her back patio, a glass of wine in hand, the condensation slipping down her fingers. The faint hum of cicadas buzzed through the warm evening, blending with the low murmur of music drifting from a neighbouring house.
Dave’s house.
She had noticed him watching her lately. Casual glances that lasted just a second too long. A quiet tension that had been growing between them over the past few months. It was in the way his eyes lingered when she watered the garden in her shorts and camisole, or the way she caught him stealing a glance when they crossed paths at the mailbox. It was unspoken, undeniable.
Tonight, she let herself indulge in the thought of it. The way his strong, tanned arms flexed when he worked on his car. The way his voice had that rough, gravelly edge when he greeted her. He was charming in a way that felt effortless, yet she sensed something deeper beneath the surface. Something restrained. Something waiting to be unleashed.
A flicker of movement caught her eye. Dave was on his deck, a beer in hand, watching her. This time, he didn’t look away. Angie felt a slow smile play on her lips as she lifted her glass to her lips, letting the moment stretch between them. The air crackled with something electric, something that made her pulse quicken.
He made the first move.
Stepping down from his deck, he crossed the short unfenced stretch of grass separating their properties. Angie’s breath hitched as he leaned against her patio railing, close enough that she could smell the faint scent of cedarwood and something undeniably masculine.
“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his voice a low rumble.
She tilted her head, eyes locking onto his. “Something like that.”
A small smirk played on his lips. “Funny. I was just thinking the same thing.”
The silence between them was thick, the tension so palpable it made the night feel even warmer. Angie set her glass down, fingers tracing the rim slowly before she met his gaze again. He was looking at her differently now—not just as a neighbour, but as something more. As something inevitable.
“I think we’ve been dancing around this for a while,” he murmured, stepping just a fraction closer. His fingers brushed against hers, light as air, but the touch sent a jolt through her body.
Her breath hitched, her skin prickling under his gaze. “And what do you think happens when we stop dancing?”
Dave exhaled a slow breath, his eyes darkening. “I think we find out just how long we’ve been waiting for this.”
Angie didn’t hesitate. She reached for him, closing the small distance between them as their lips met in a slow, smouldering kiss. His hands settled on her waist, pulling her against him with a hunger that sent a shiver down her spine. The kiss deepened, exploring, tasting, teasing. The heat of the night wrapped around them, but it was nothing compared to the fire igniting between them.
His fingers skimmed the curve of her hip, slipping beneath the hem of her camisole. Angie sighed into his mouth, her body arching into his touch. The world beyond her patio ceased to exist—just the quiet hum of the night, the distant song of cicadas, and the low, needy sounds slipping past her lips.
Dave broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice thick with desire.
She traced her fingers along his jaw, her answer clear in the way she pulled him back to her, in the way her body pressed into his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”
With that, the last thread of restraint snapped, and they let go of everything except the raw need that had been building for far too long. As she led him into her house, she knew that the night was theirs.