Water is lapping between your chin and neck, each wave colliding to the beat of your heart. The stars overhead glisten, the moon's distorted reflection sparkling off the surface.

He's laughing nearby, shaking his hair out like a dog's coat. Your eyes lock, and the laughter slowly fades from his eyes, morphing into something deeper.

He reaches towards you, slowly, carefully, giving you time to move away if you choose to. But you don't - with him, you never do.

Your fingers intertwine beneath the waves, both pruney from the prolonged exposure to the sea. He's close now, standing a head taller than you, the water barely grazing his chest.

His head bends, and he is close, so close, and you think to yourself. This is it.