Still Water

The hotel pool lay still at 3 AM, its surface like polished obsidian reflecting the moon. Elena sat on the edge, her legs submerged in the cool water, clutching a plastic cup containing what was left of her orange daiquiri. The wedding reception had ended hours ago, but sleep remained elusive.

Her husband, Mark, was upstairs in room 312, probably passed out fully clothed on the bed. His brother—the best man—had made a toast about how some marriages are like still waters: calm on the surface, but underneath, who knows what really lurks. Everyone had laughed. Elena had sipped her champagne and wondered if Daniel's comment was accidental or cutting.

The thought gnawed at her as she stared into the dark water. She'd seen the way Daniel looked at her during the ceremony. Not as a sister-in-law, but as something else entirely. And she hadn't looked away. Hadn't pulled her hand back when their fingers brushed while passing the ring bearer's pillow. Hadn't moved when he'd danced with her during "their song"—the one Mark hated but she loved.

"Nice hat," Daniel had whispered during their dance, his fingers grazing the flower in her hair.

She'd worn it because Mark said it made her look like a schoolteacher. Now she wondered if Daniel had meant something else entirely.

An orange peel floated past her in the pool, swirling gently in a slow current she hadn't noticed before. The water wasn't still after all. It was moving, alive beneath the surface, just like Daniel had said.

Behind her, footsteps on the concrete. She didn't turn.

"Couldn't sleep either?" Daniel's voice, rough from whiskey and too much talking.

Elena set down her empty cup. "No."

He sat beside her, not touching, but close enough that she could feel his body heat. The orange plastic cup overturned between them.

"Mark's out cold," he said. "I checked."

"Why?"

Daniel was silent for a long moment. Then he slid into the water beside her, fully dressed, and took her hand beneath the dark surface. "Because I needed to know if you'd be here."

Elena's heart hammered against her ribs. The water lapped at her waist, at her waist, at her waist. Still waters, she thought. Some things really do lurk beneath.

She squeezed his hand back.