I almost swapped the order of the last two chapters, but then I thought—no, the temperature needs to rise gradually. Do you agree with that choice? And though technically it's not that, what is a slow burn without a little heat?

Hope you enjoy it! Have a great Sunday!

The evening air was thick with syrupy summer heat that seemed to refuse to let go. Even the slightest breeze felt like a gift. Somewhere in the distance, a sprinkler sputtered and hissed to life, the scent of damp earth and wildflowers mingling in the air.

Anne, in a pair of khaki shorts and a thin tank top, stepped barefoot onto the grass, her red toenails gleaming like freshly picked cherries against the green. Her hair was piled into a high bun, though the humidity had its own plans, sending unruly curls tumbling free. Two ice-cold bottles dangled from her fingers, condensation dripping onto the ground, almost like water hitting a sizzling hot stove.

"It's like an oven in there," she said, handing one to Cole, who—completely shirtless, his skin glistening with a fine sheen of sweat—was sprawled out on Mrs. Lynde's quilt.

He took the bottle with a dramatic sigh, pressing it to his forehead. "Bless you, my angel. You may have just saved my life."

Anne dropped down beside him, stretching her legs out. The coolness of the grass against her overheated skin was divine.

Cole took a swig from his bottle and moaned with relief. "You should get a paddling pool."

"I tried! All sold out, along with fans and air con units. Here, have this instead."

She tossed him a spray bottle filled with water, the ice cubes clinking inside. He took it gratefully, misting his face and sighing in relief, only to suddenly jerk and swat at his arm with a muttered curse. "I'm being eaten alive," he grumbled, inspecting the fresh mosquito bite before rubbing it. Another one buzzed near his ear, and he batted at the air with an irritated huff.

"Stop complaining. Become one with nature."

"If I wanted to become one with nature, I'd move to a cabin in the woods and start a podcast about it." He swatted at another mosquito. "This is personal now. I swear they're targeting me."

"It's probably all the overpriced matcha in your system. You smell fresh."

"Will you just let me have one nice thing? I already gave up my avocado toast! Yes, it was expensive, but I'll be damned if I let capitalism and mosquitoes ruin my night." Cole gave himself another generous spritz, tilting his head back as the cool mist settled over his face and neck. He fanned himself with his free hand, then groaned. "Ugh, I'm so sticky. How are you so dry while I'm melting here?"

"I don't sweat. I perspire."

"Sure, and I don't hook up on Grindr—I cultivate meaningful interpersonal connections."

Anne snorted, rolling her eyes as she shook her head. A lazy, easy silence stretched between them, filled only by the flicker of fireflies, the rhythmic hiss of the sprinklers, and the distant hum of passing cars. She traced a finger along the rim of her bottle, eliciting a high-pitched sound, breaking the quiet. Cole shifted onto his side.

"So…" he drawled. "Did you get any more calls from Roy?"

Anne made a non-committal noise before taking another sip of her drink. "Not him per se," she said finally. "But his sister showed up the other day to collect some of his old CDs. Apparently, even though he gifted them to me, they were never really mine to take when I moved out. And, obviously, he desperately needed them back."

"Damn. He went full Gotye on you."

"All that's missing is me painting myself into his wallpaper."

"Next time he calls, tell him there's this thing called Spotify."

"Hopefully, there won't be a next time."

Cole raised his bottle. "Cheers to that."

Their bottles clinked, and his expression softened. "In all seriousness, are you okay?" He remembered how she had been after the breakup, how she'd plastered on a brave face, moving on with her new life, laughing at all the right moments, but her smiles had never quite reached her eyes.

"As much as it hurt then," she admitted, "I'm fine now."

Cole studied her for a beat before nodding. "You deserve to be more than fine." He reached out, wrapping his fingers around hers, his thumb brushing slow, comforting circles against her skin.

She exhaled, squeezing his hand in return. "Yeah, but being 'fine' alone is so much better than being 'amazing' with him."

"Look at you being all 'I'm no bird and no net ensnares me.'"

Anne chuckled, but before she could retort, Cole arched an eyebrow. "Speaking of being alone… how's your new neighbor? You know, the tall, dark and apparently very handsome doctor? And why does Diana call him Sleeping Beauty now?"

There was no way for her to stop a treacherous blush creeping up her cheeks.

Her new neighbor. Well, she no longer called him that after that morning when she found him asleep in his car. From then on, he was just Gilbert.

Infuriatingly funny, ridiculously attractive, annoyingly charming, and disarmingly kind Gilbert.

She'd be lying to herself if she said she wasn't attracted to him. That her heart didn't do that little flutter every time she saw him. That she wouldn't feel as if she's on fire at the occasional touch of his hand. He was in her head far too often, so much so that she'd caught herself daydreaming about him more than once. And last night? She'd woken up flushed, her pulse racing, the remnants of a dream she definitely wasn't ready to analyze still in her mind.

Cole caught the reaction instantly and nudged her playfully with his shoulder. "Oh, did I say something wrong? Why are you blushing like a Victorian maiden?"

Anne scowled, feeling the heat creeping up her neck now, annoyed at her own reaction, annoyed that Cole was prying, and especially annoyed that she couldn't just be cool about her crush. Without a word, she grabbed the spray bottle and drenched him.

"I am not blushing. It's the weather."

"You so are." Cole sputtered, shaking out his wet bangs, grinning, eyes flashing with triumph. She hadn't been like this with Roy, never this flustered, never this obvious. Her behavior now was so telling, and Cole was absolutely reveling in it. He'd been waiting for a moment like this, and judging by his smug expression, it was even better than he'd hoped.

"I am not 'getting' anything."

"Well, then it's high time to change that."

She huffed, lifting the spray bottle again, ready to unleash another attack and to drown his smugness. But before she could do it, a door clicked open, the unexpected sound cutting through the night.

They both turned as Gilbert's French doors swung open, golden light spilling briefly onto his patio.

"I thought I heard some voices," Gilbert stepped outside, lazily coming up to the fence and leaning his arm on top of it.

Anne sat up so fast she nearly spilled her drink. "We're just—uh—cooling off. It's like sauna inside." Oh God. Has he heard anything? Cole's teasing? Her reaction to it? Her pulse stuttered at the thought. She took a too-long swig from her bottle, hoping it would somehow cool down the warmth rising under her skin.

"So it's not just me being spoiled by hospital air-conditioning," he sighed. "I had to take two cold showers just to recover from the walk from my car to my front door."

"Somebody here could do with a cold shower too." Anne definitely heard Cole mutter under his breath into his bottle.

Really subtle, Mackenzie.

Gilbert's gaze flicked to Cole, amused.

"This is my friend Cole. Cole, this is my Gil—" Anne caught herself. "My neighbor, Gilbert." She corrected quickly, hoping they were too tired from the heat to notice her little slip.

Cole waved lazily from his spot on the quilt. "Wanna join us? We've got cold drinks and enough mosquito bites to start a support group."

Gilbert grinned. He perked up visibly at the invitation, his whole body seeming to instantly lighten. "Well, since you put it like that…"

Without waiting for further invite, he hopped the fence effortlessly, landing with a grace that made Anne's stomach flip.

He looked freshly showered, damp curls clinging to his forehead, a loose T-shirt draping over his broad shoulders, shorts hanging just low enough on his hips to make her thoughts veer straight into dangerous territory. His movements were unhurried, the way a tiger might stalk its prey, confident, controlled and completely unaware of the effect he had on her. As he closed the distance, she couldn't take her eyes off his frame.

Cole let out a low whistle. "Do they teach that at med school?"

"Years of practice hopping fences back home—usually because I was running late for lessons."

"I see," Cole laughed, scrambling to get up. "I'll grab you a drink."

As Gilbert sat down next to Anne, his T-shirt rode up just slightly, revealing a sliver of tanned skin, the flat plane of his stomach, and—God help her—the shadowed dip that disappeared beneath his waistband. Her mind betrayed her, far too quick to fill in the details from last night's dream. And now, sitting beside him, it was all too real.

Anne's brain short-circuited.

Cole's voice yanked her back before she could linger.

"Welcome to our very exclusive "Oh, Those Summer Nights" gathering, featuring gay Danny Zuko and redheaded Sandy. Rules are simple: Grease is the word, we'll always be together, and if your chills are multiplying, you have to take a shot. Mooning is optional."

Anne had never wanted to strangle Cole more in her life.

Gilbert reached for the bottle, his lips twitching as he played along. "Do I need to meditate in your direction too?"

Anne shot Gilbert a sharp glare, her eyes flashing from gray to green in an instant. "Don't encourage him."

"He can stay." Cole leaned back with a satisfied sigh.

Gilbert nodded gratefully. "Glad to have your approval."

Cole took another sip and then shot Gilbert a lazy grin. "So, Dr. Gilbert. How was your day saving lives?"

Gilbert exhaled a short laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. Anne had noticed it was a little habit of his and somehow, that small, self-conscious gesture only made him more endearing in her eyes. "With days like this, we had to deal with a lot of heat stroke cases," he said, shaking his head. "People don't realize how fast it can sneak up on them—dehydration, dizziness, nausea—and by the time they come in, some of them are completely out of it."

Cole's brows pulled together. "That bad?" His usual jesting edge was gone now, real concern slipping through.

"Elderly patients and young kids get hit the hardest. We had a few severe cases today—one guy passed out on the sidewalk, and a little girl nearly fainted at the park."

Anne's stomach twisted. "Are they okay?"

"They're stable now," Gilbert reassured her. "IV fluids, monitoring, making sure their vitals were steady before sending them home." He spoke almost absently, like he was still running through the steps in his head, replaying every detail to make sure nothing had been missed. "It's scary how quickly it happens. People always underestimate the heat."

She nudged his knee with hers. "Sounds exhausting in this weather."

Gilbert shrugged, like it was nothing, but there was a tiredness in his eyes. "It's part of the job, like everything else." Then, turning to Cole, he asked, "What about you? What do you do?"

"I teach art classes," Cole brightened instantly, straightening his back.

Gilbert leaned in slightly, genuine interest flickering across his face. "Anything specific?"

"A bit of everything, really. Painting, mosaics, sculpting. I run a ceramics workshop on Tuesdays, a mural project for teens on Saturdays. And,"—his grin turned absolutely wicked—"live drawing sessions. We're always looking for models, so let me know if you're ever free in the evening," he finished with a wink.

Gilbert, completely unbothered, smirked. "Depends. What's the dress code?"

"Next week, we're doing sketches inspired by classic Greek sculptures. Interested?"

"I should have David's outfit lying around somewhere," Gilbert hummed, rubbing his chin, knowing full well it was better to lean into the teasing than fight it.

Anne nearly choked on her drink. So much for keeping the conversation—and her thoughts—clean.

Cole's gaze flicked between them, his expression unreadable for a beat. Then he made a few quick swipes on his phone, let out an exaggerated yawn and stretched. "Alright, I'm tapping out. My ride's waiting out front." He pushed himself up, dusting off his shorts. "Thank you Gilbert for deciding to join us. Anne, always a pleasure. No, don't get up, I'll let myself out."

He bent to scoop up his T-shirt from the grass, shaking it out before pulling it over his head. The fabric clung briefly to his skin, catching on the lingering heat of the night.

"See you next Friday at Diana's." said Anne.

"I'd never deprive you of my presence," Cole leaned down to press a quick kiss to her cheek. Then he turned to Gilbert, flashing a grin. "Nice meeting you, neighbor."

Gilbert nodded. "Likewise."

As Cole disappeared inside, the backyard fell into a hush. The air was thick with the smell of grass, honeysuckle, and something deeper—woodsy, citrusy, and warm. A scent she now recognized instantly as Gilbert. Somewhere in the distance, a faint melody carried from some open window, low and lazy, drifted through the night.

"Don't take Cole too seriously," Anne said softly, not wanting to disturb the silence. "He's always like that."

"Not at all. He seems like a really nice guy."

She glanced at Gilbert. He was leaning back on his elbows, eyes flicking up toward the sky, completely at ease. The warm glow from the lights carved out the sharp lines of his profile—the strong cut of his jaw, the slight shadow of stubble, the shape of his lips. His lashes were long, annoyingly long, and Anne found herself thinking how unfair it was that a guy could have lashes like that.

And how lovely it was to be next to him.

"The sky is so clear here," he murmured. "I don't remember seeing this many stars in the city before."

Anne tilted her head back, letting her eyes sweep across the sky. The stars stretched endlessly above them, scattered like spilled glitter, blinking against the vast velvety darkness. A whole universe looking down at them.

"Yes, it's beautiful," she said, mesmerized.

And then she noticed—

His gaze had shifted, his attention no longer on the sky but on her face.

"What?" she asked, her heart skipping.

Slowly and gently, as if she might shatter under his touch, Gilbert reached out, his fingers ghosting along the bridge of her nose.

Anne froze, her breath catching in her throat.

"You've got a whole constellation here," his voice even lower now. "Ursa Major."

Anne blinked. "What—?"

His touch was featherlight as he connected freckles, tracing an invisible path and raising the fire inside her. Something flared up inside her, thick and consuming, something she felt too scared to name. Then he lifted his hand, pointing upward.

"See?" He whispered. "The Big Dipper. Matches perfectly."

Her skin burned where he'd touched it. Anne looked up and found his gaze already back on her, heavy-lidded and intense.

The air between them shifted.

A new kind of heat unfurled between them, curling in their veins. She wanted to reach out, to thread her fingers through his hair, to pull him down to her. To feel his weight press against her and let herself sink into the flames he was stoking. The realization sent a delicious shiver down her spine.

Her breath came shallow.

His eyes flicked down to her lips.

She parted them, just slightly, a tiny, involuntary gasp escaping. His eyes darkened, his own breath slowing, and for a moment, they hovered at the edge of inevitable.

The night pulsed around them, the electric charge of anticipation stretching between them, daring one of them to make the next move.

And then—

Just as suddenly, he exhaled and sat up, shaking off the moment like he was breaking from a spell. "It's getting late. I should head back."

The words tumbled out too quickly, too forced, like he didn't quite believe them.

"Good night," Gilbert's voice rougher at the edges. "Thanks for the drink."

He got up, stretching, muscles shifting under his shirt. Just as easily as before, he vaulted over the fence, landing on the other side with catlike agility. Anne flopped onto her back, groaning in frustration, wanting to scream at the moon.

What the hell just happened?