Chapter 8: Wet Revelations
Leonid moved through the water with a slow, inevitable force, like a tide coming in. Each step sent a ripple across the surface, the soaked fabric of his t-shirt pulling and clinging with a gravity all its own. Jennie stood her ground at the pool’s edge, the cool water from his splash now a damp chill seeping through her lace dress, making it stick to her thighs and stomach.
Rosé, still submerged to her chin, watched him with wide, liquid eyes. Her earlier giggle was a forgotten ghost.
Just as Leonid’s hand reached for the stainless-steel railing of the steps, the terrace’s glass door slid open with a smooth hiss.
“I come bearing gifts!” Jisoo’s voice, bright and bell-like, cut through the tension. She stepped out, balancing a tray with four frosted glasses, each garnished with a sprig of mint and a slice of lime. Her own designer sunglasses were perched on her head, holding back her flawless black hair. “The bartender whipped up these amazing mojitos, and I thought—oh.”
She stopped, taking in the scene. Leonid, halfway out of the pool, water streaming from him, his white t-shirt rendered into a transparent second skin that detailed every contour of his chest, the hard lines of his abdomen, the dark shadow of hair below his navel. Rosé, frozen and wide-eyed in the water. Jennie, dripping wet herself, her own lace dress now nearly as sheer as his shirt, plastered to her body in a way that left little to the imagination.
Jisoo’s eyebrows shot up. A slow smile spread across her face. “Did I interrupt a pool party? Or a wet t-shirt contest?”
Leonid ignored her. He pulled himself up the final step and stood on the hot marble, water pooling around his bare feet. He didn’t wring out his shirt. He didn’t look at Rosé, who was now staring openly, her lips slightly parted. His dark eyes were fixed on Jennie, who held his gaze, her chin tilted up in defiance even as a shiver ran through her.
The sun baked the moisture from the stone around him, sending up little ghosts of steam.
“Jennie pushed him in,” Rosé blurted out, her voice a nervous squeak. She finally remembered to look away, sinking lower into the water.
“Did she now?” Jisoo set the tray down on a dry table with a soft clink. She picked up a glass and took a long sip, her eyes dancing with amusement over the rim. “Daring today, aren’t we?”
Jennie finally broke her stare-off with Leonid to shoot a glare at Jisoo. “He was being annoying.”
“I’m sure he was,” Jisoo said, her tone implying she believed no such thing. She sauntered closer, her gaze sweeping over Leonid’s drenched form with an appreciative, purely aesthetic curiosity. “Well, it’s certainly an improvement on the brooding-in-the-shade look. Very… visceral.”
Leonid finally moved. He reached for the hem of his t-shirt. In one swift, efficient motion, he peeled the sodden fabric up over his head and wrung it out in a tight spiral. Water pattered loudly onto the marble. He did it with a stark, functional ease, devoid of any performance, but the effect was monumental.
Rosé made a small, involuntary sound, quickly disguised as a cough.
Jennie’s breath hitched. She’d seen him without a shirt before, years ago by this same pool, but that had been a boy. This was something else entirely. The afternoon sun gilded his pale, broad shoulders, highlighting the powerful taper of his back, the stark definition of muscle that spoke of disciplined strength, not gym vanity. A few drops of water traced a path down the groove of his spine, disappearing into the waistband of his dark, soaked trousers.
He turned, the wadded shirt in his hand. His expression hadn’t softened. If anything, the direct sunlight sharpened the angles of his face, the intensity in his eyes. He looked at Jennie, then at the translucent state of her own dress, his gaze lingering for a fraction of a second too long on the way the wet lace clung to the peaks of her breasts, the tight bud of her nipples visible beneath.
A hot flush, different from the sun’s heat, spread across Jennie’s chest and up her neck.
Possessiveness, sharp and sudden, flared in her gut. She took a quick step sideways, deliberately placing herself between Leonid’s line of sight and Rosé’s open-mouthed stare from the pool.
“Aren’t you cold?” she asked him, her voice coming out higher than she intended. “You should go change.”
Leonid didn’t answer. He dropped the wrung-out shirt onto a lounge chair. The motion was final, like a period at the end of a sentence. He walked past her, close enough that she felt the cool aura of evaporation coming off his skin, catching the clean, sharp scent of chlorine mixed with his own particular smell—tobacco and something else, something dark and evergreen.
He didn’t stop. He walked past Jisoo, gave her the slightest nod, and disappeared through the glass door into the shaded interior of the mansion.
The silence he left behind was different. Charged, but empty.
“Well,” Jisoo said, popping the ‘l’ loudly. She handed Jennie a mojito. The glass was freezing against her palm. “That was dramatic.”
Jennie took a gulp, the mint and lime doing nothing to cool the fire in her cheeks.
Rosé finally paddled to the steps and climbed out, grabbing her towel and wrapping it tightly around her torso, covering herself completely. “I should… I should probably go too. My mom needs me.”
“You just got here,” Jennie said, but her heart wasn’t in it.
“I know. It’s just… family stuff.” Rosé couldn’t meet her eyes. She gathered her things with hurried, clumsy movements, gave Jisoo a weak smile, and almost fled across the terrace toward the side gate.
Jisoo watched her go, then took a long sip of her drink. She lowered herself onto a lounge chair, stretching her legs out. “So. You pushed him.”
“Yes.”
“And then you stood there, having a staring contest while looking like a drowned, very provocative kitten.”
“Jisoo.”
“I’m just observing!” Jisoo held up her hands in mock surrender. “It’s just interesting, that’s all. Usually, you’re complaining that he’s ignoring you. Today, you made sure that was impossible.” She tilted her head. “He looked… pissed.”
“He’s always pissed,” Jennie muttered, sinking onto the chair beside her friend. The wet lace of her dress pulled uncomfortably against her skin. She felt exposed, and not just physically. That look he’d given her—it hadn’t been anger. It had been a promise of a reckoning. A quiet, certain knowledge that the balance between them had shifted, and she was the one who had tipped it.
“Mmm,” Jisoo hummed, unconvinced. She leaned back, closing her eyes against the sun. “Just be careful, Jennie. You’re used to him cleaning up your messes. But some messes,” she said, her voice dropping to a lighter, yet more serious tone, “you can’t just sweep under the rug.”
Inside the mansion, somewhere in the cool, dark silence, a door closed softly. The sound was definitive, like the click of a lock. Jennie shivered again, despite the blistering sun. She looked down at her own body, at the way the wet fabric revealed everything, and for the first time, she wondered if she’d been the one who ended up truly exposed.