crossing lines

Lana

The heat was unbearable. It wasn’t just the summer sun beating down on our small town—it was him. Drew Dawson had somehow become a fixture in my days, whether I liked it or not.

It started innocently enough. I’d been helping Mrs. Dawson in her garden—an escape, really. She was kind to me, had always treated me like family even after Jake and I fell apart.

“Could you grab the watering can from the back porch, Lana?” she asked with a warm smile.

“Of course.” I wiped my hands on my shorts and headed around the house.

And there he was.

Drew sat on the porch steps, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, his phone in his other hand. His head snapped up when he saw me, and a slow grin spread across his face.

“Stalking me again, are we?” he teased.

I rolled my eyes. “This is your house. If anyone’s a stalker, it’s you.”

He chuckled, standing to block my path. “Always so defensive.”

“Because you’re always annoying.” I tried to step around him, but he moved too, mirroring my movements like a child.

“Drew.” I shot him a warning glare.

“Lana.” He said my name like it was a challenge.

I huffed out a breath, refusing to play his game. “Move.”

“What if I don’t?” He was grinning now, and I hated how my body reacted to that stupid smile.

“I’ll hit you with the watering can.”

“You’d look adorable doing it.”

His words were so unexpected I froze. I stared at him, speechless. He had this way of saying things so casually, like they didn’t mean anything—but there was something in his eyes. Something that made my heart slam against my ribs.

“Stop it,” I muttered, brushing past him.

“Stop what?” he called after me, laughing. “Existing?”

I ignored him, snatching the watering can and stomping back into the garden. But the heat stayed with me, burning under my skin. I hated that he could get to me so easily.

By late afternoon, the heat had turned suffocating. Mrs. Dawson had gone inside to escape it, leaving me alone in the garden. Or so I thought.

“Hydrating the tomatoes more than yourself?”

I spun around to find Drew standing at the edge of the garden, holding two bottles of water. He tossed one to me before I could protest.

“Thanks,” I said grudgingly, twisting the cap open. I was too tired to fight him off.

Drew leaned against the fence, watching me as I sipped the water. His gaze was intense, unreadable.

“Why are you still here?” I asked finally.

“Why are you still here?” he shot back.

I frowned. “I’m helping your mom.”

“And I’m… keeping an eye on you.”

I snorted. “What, are you my babysitter now?”

“Someone has to be.” His lips curled into that signature smirk.

“God, you’re infuriating.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

I turned to glare at him, intending to hit him with some sharp retort, but the words never came. Drew was closer than I realized—too close.

My heart skipped a beat as I tilted my head up to meet his gaze. He wasn’t smirking anymore. His expression had shifted into something darker, more serious.

“What are you doing?” I asked softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Drew’s eyes searched mine, lingering on my lips before flicking back up. “Tell me to stop.”

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

There was something electric in the air between us, pulling me toward him. My breath caught as he leaned down, his hand coming up to brush a stray strand of hair from my cheek.

“Lana,” he murmured, his voice rough.

And then it happened.

Drew kissed me.

It wasn’t soft or tentative—it was hungry, almost desperate. His lips moved against mine with a kind of heat that stole the air from my lungs. I gasped, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his hand sliding to the back of my neck.

I was drowning in him. The world around us melted away—there was no garden, no sun, no small-town gossip. Just Drew and his kiss, which sent fire racing through my veins.

I don’t know who pulled away first. All I know is that when it ended, we were both breathing hard, our faces inches apart.

“That… shouldn’t have happened,” I whispered, my voice shaky.

Drew’s thumb brushed my jaw, lingering for just a second too long. “Maybe not.”

He didn’t look sorry. Not at all.

Before I could say anything else, he stepped back, the distance between us feeling like a physical blow.

“See you around, Lana.”

He walked away, leaving me standing there with trembling hands and a heart that refused to settle.