FUTILE DEVICES 🍑 ─── III.
FEATHER

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The morning was a picture of idyllic calm as they gathered their things for the beach. The air carried a faint tang of salt and the warmth of the rising sun, while the sound of cicadas hummed in the background. Clementine barely slept the night before. Drew's lingering gaze from the volleyball game, his fleeting touches, and the way he said her name all looped through her mind like a song she couldn't escape. By the time the idea of the beach was floated, she agreed simply for the distraction, though deep down she knew Drew's presence would make it anything but.

The cove they chose was hidden away behind winding trails and craggy rocks, lined not with soft sand but with pale, smooth stones. The water glittered under the sunlight, shades of sapphire and teal melting into the endless blue of the sky. It was secluded, private, and seemed a world away from everything else—a place where time moved differently, slower and heavier, as though each moment hung in suspension.

Drew carried the volleyball slung under his arm, his stride easy and confident as they made their way to the water's edge. Clementine tried not to stare at the way his navy swim shorts fit him or the sun-kissed glow of his skin, but it was impossible not to notice. There was something about Drew that demanded attention, a magnetism that felt both unintentional and utterly disarming.

Enea walked alongside her, his green eyes alive with excitement. He carried a towel draped over one shoulder and spoke animatedly about the perfect skipping stones he'd already spotted near the shoreline. "Guarda," he said, stooping to pick one up. "This is perfect. Flat, smooth—see? Three skips, at least." His enthusiasm was contagious, and Clementine smiled despite the tangle of emotions swirling inside her.

Chloe was a few steps ahead, her auburn hair catching the sunlight like copper as she glanced over her shoulder at Drew. She wore a red bikini, her confidence practically tangible as she laughed and teased. "Drew, I hope you're ready," she called out, her voice light. "You're going down in this volleyball game."

Drew chuckled, his smirk barely visible. "I guess we'll see," he replied, his tone measured, yet somehow it carried an unspoken edge, as though his focus wasn't entirely on Chloe's challenge.

Clementine bit the inside of her cheek, trying to ignore the faint pinch of jealousy that came with watching Chloe flirt. It wasn't that Chloe was being overtly flirtatious—it was subtle, easy, and natural for her—but the way Drew seemed unaffected by it made Clementine feel even more out of place.

They set up their makeshift camp—a scattering of towels, a cooler, and the volleyball net Enea and Drew improvised using a long piece of driftwood. The game started with a burst of laughter and chaotic volleys, the ball flying over the improvised net in wild arcs. Drew's movements were precise and confident, his gaze sharp as he tracked the ball. Clementine couldn't help but notice the way his shoulders flexed when he dove for a low volley or how his laughter—rare and soft—seemed to ripple through the air like a secret.

At one point, Drew passed the ball to her, their fingers brushing for the briefest moment. It was nothing, just an incidental touch, but it felt like a live wire sparking against her skin.

"You're up," he said, his voice quiet yet weighted in a way that made her pulse quicken.

She nodded, barely trusting herself to speak. Her serve was clumsy, but no one seemed to care, the game more about the moments of shared joy than any real competition. Chloe was quick with quips, her teasing directed equally at everyone, though she seemed to linger on Drew with a pointed ease that left Clementine feeling both self-conscious and oddly protective.

By the time they broke for a rest, Clementine's skin was flushed, her legs pleasantly sore. Drew wandered off, picking his way over the stones toward a small cluster of jagged rocks at the edge of the cove. Clementine hesitated, watching him for a moment before following. She told herself she only wanted to find out what he was doing, that she wasn't seeking him out for any reason beyond simple curiosity. But as she stepped away from the others, her heartbeat quickened, the space between them charged with unspoken possibilities.

The air was cooler near the rocks, shaded from the sun. Drew stood at the edge of the water, his back to her, the soft waves lapping at his feet. He had set the cooler down beside him, and from a distance, Clementine could see the easy way he leaned against the jagged stone, his silhouette impossibly relaxed.

She hesitated, unsure why she had followed him. She told herself it was simple curiosity, but the truth was buried in the restless pull that had drawn her toward him since the moment they met. It was quiet, magnetic, and beyond her control, as if some part of her had been attuned to him from the start.

Drew turned when he heard her approach, catching the light just so. The slant of sun caught on the angles of his face, his features sharpened and softened all at once, like a portrait in motion. His eyes—clear and piercing as the sky above—settled on her, and she felt her breath hitch, caught in the weight of his attention.

"Escaping?" he asked, his voice low and steady, with just the faintest curl of amusement.

She stepped closer, the stones shifting softly beneath her sandals. "Maybe," she replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face, an automatic gesture to steady herself. "Or maybe I'm just curious."

"About what?" he asked, stepping toward her just enough to close the distance without completely closing it.

The question hung between them, heavy with possibilities she didn't know how to name. You, she thought, but the word burned too brightly to say aloud. "About what you're doing all the way over here. Hiding?"

His chuckle was soft and warm, but there was an edge to it, something that hinted at layers she couldn't quite see. "Not hiding," he said. "Just... thinking."

"About?"

He didn't answer immediately, his gaze drifting briefly toward the horizon. She waited, watching him, her pulse quickening in the silence. Then, without a word, he reached into the small cooler beside him and pulled out two peaches.

He held one out to her, his hand steady, the fruit glowing in the soft sunlight. Clementine hesitated before taking it, their fingers brushing for just a moment—barely more than a whisper of touch, but enough to make her skin prickle with heat.

She bit into the peach, the juice spilling over her lips and down her chin. The taste was almost overwhelming—sweet, fragrant, impossibly ripe. She closed her eyes briefly, letting the sensation fill her, and when she opened them again, Drew was watching her.

"You eat like it's the best thing you've ever tasted," he said, his voice light but edged with something that sent a shiver down her spine.

Clementine laughed softly, though her pulse raced. "Maybe it is. Or maybe I just... appreciate the small things."

He tilted his head slightly, considering her with a quiet intensity that made her stomach twist in unfamiliar ways. "You notice a lot, don't you?"

The words caught her off guard, striking something deep inside her. She blinked, unsure how to respond, unsure if it was meant as a compliment or something else entirely.

Drew's eyes flickered briefly to her mouth, and Clementine's heart gave a sharp, startled thump. He took a step closer, the stones crunching softly beneath his feet, and raised his hand with deliberate slowness, the gesture carrying an unbearable weight.

Her breath hitched. He was so close now that she could feel the faint warmth radiating from his skin, the scent of summer clinging to him—a mix of sun-warmed linen, faint citrus, and something indefinable but utterly him. Time seemed to suspend itself as his hand reached for her face.

"You missed some," he said softly, almost under his breath, his voice low and velvety, carrying an intimacy that made the words feel heavier than they should have.

"Where?" she asked instinctively, the word leaving her lips before she had time to think. Her voice was quieter now, almost a whisper, as though speaking louder might shatter the charged air between them.

For a moment, he didn't answer. His gaze dropped again to her lips, lingering there in a way that made her pulse race. Then, slowly, he lifted his thumb and let it hover at the corner of her mouth, his movements unhurried, deliberate.

"Here," he murmured.

The word lingered in the space between them, heavy and full of something Clementine couldn't name. Before she could process it, his thumb brushed her skin—softly, achingly softly. The gesture was so deliberate, so measured, that it felt like it stretched out infinitely. His touch was warm, firm enough to wipe away the errant juice but gentle enough to leave her reeling.

Her entire body tensed, her breath catching in her throat as her lips tingled under his touch. It wasn't the action itself—it was everything surrounding it: the way his eyes stayed locked on hers, the maddening slowness of the motion, the faint curve of his mouth as though he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"There," he said quietly, almost reverently, his thumb still lingering against her skin for just a heartbeat longer than necessary.

The heat of his touch burned into her, spreading through her like wildfire. She could feel every nerve in her body spring to attention, her skin prickling with an almost electric awareness of him. Her pulse raced in her ears, drowning out the soft sounds of the waves lapping at the shore.

Drew stepped back, and she felt the loss of his touch like the sudden absence of sunlight after stepping into shadow. Her lips parted, but no words came out—what could she possibly say to the man who had just unraveled her with a single, innocent gesture?

"Thanks," she managed finally, her voice quieter than she intended, as though her body was still too caught in the moment to fully function.

But Drew didn't move, didn't look away. His gaze softened, but the intensity in his expression didn't waver, as if he was still studying her, still reading the effect he had left in his wake.

"You have no idea, do you?" he said suddenly, his voice soft, but laced with a low, almost velvet edge that sent a shiver down her spine.

Her brows furrowed, her breath still unsteady. "About what?"

His eyes dropped to her lips for the briefest moment before locking onto hers again, and the intensity there made her pulse quicken. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn't playful—it was something deeper, heavier, as though he were letting her see a part of himself he usually kept hidden.

"How impossible it is," he murmured, his voice rougher now, quieter, but no less clear, "not to want you when you look at me like that."

The words hit her like a lightning bolt, sending a jolt of heat through her that left her dizzy and speechless. It wasn't overt or explicit—it wasn't even framed as a compliment—but the rawness of it, the unspoken desire threaded into his tone, made it feel impossibly intimate.

Her heart pounded against her ribcage, her chest tightening as she struggled to find something, anything, to say. But she was unraveling, completely undone by the way he looked at her, by the sheer weight of his presence.

"I—" she started, but her voice faltered, and her lips parted uselessly, unable to form a coherent response.

Drew didn't look away. If anything, his gaze grew softer, though the desire there didn't waver. It wasn't flirtation—it was a quiet confession, one he didn't seem to need her to answer.

"He took a step closer, the stones crunching softly beneath his feet. The distance between them vanished, and suddenly it felt as though the entire world had shrunk to the space they occupied, the pull between them unbearable. His eyes searched hers, and the intensity in his gaze made her knees weak.

"Clementine," he said, her name a soft breath, as though tasting it on his tongue. "You make me want to lose every bit of control I have left."

Her breath hitched, her heart hammering in her chest as his hand lifted slightly, hesitating for a moment before brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered, his thumb barely grazing the edge of her jaw.

He leaned in, just a fraction, and her entire body froze, her senses alive with the proximity of him—the warmth of his skin, the faint, clean scent of him mingled with the salt of the sea.

Time slowed. She could see the faintest shift of his expression, the way his lips parted just slightly as though he was about to close the space between them. Every nerve in her body was on edge, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

But before he could move closer, before the moment could slip into something irreversibly intimate, the sound of laughter carried through the air, breaking the fragile stillness between them.

"Hey!" Chloe's voice rang out, bright and playful. Clementine's stomach sank as she turned to see Chloe and Enea standing a little ways off, grinning at them. "Are you two coming back, or are we playing with half a team?"

Clementine blinked, the spell shattering. She stepped back abruptly, putting space between herself and Drew as though the air had suddenly turned too thick to breathe. Her cheeks burned, and she turned her head quickly to hide the telltale flush from Chloe and Enea's curious glances.

"Coming," Drew called back, his voice calm and even, though when Clementine risked a glance at him, she saw the tension still lingering in his jaw, the subtle clench of his hand at his side.

She hesitated, her thoughts swirling in a tangled mess of what had just almost happened, of what might have happened if they hadn't been interrupted. And yet, when she met Drew's gaze one last time, there was something unspoken in the way he looked at her, something that made her stomach flip and her chest ache with longing.

Without another word, they followed Chloe and Enea back to the game, but Clementine couldn't shake the feeling that they had crossed a line—or perhaps, come far too close to one. And the worst part was, she wasn't sure she wanted to step back.

Her fingers trembled as she wiped the faint stickiness of peach juice from her lips, though her skin still burned where his thumb had touched her. Her thoughts were a tangled mess of confusion and longing, each thread pulling tighter with every passing second.
She wanted to tell herself it was just a moment, something fleeting and harmless, but the truth settled heavily in her chest: she was drawn to him in ways she couldn't control. Drew Starkey was not just a guest in her family's home anymore; he was a storm gathering in her sky, a force she couldn't ignore no matter how much she wanted to.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

The walk back home was drenched in late-afternoon sunlight, the air thick with the scent of sea salt and wild herbs. Clementine barely registered any of it. Her footsteps moved mechanically over the uneven stone path, the smooth rocks crunching underfoot, but her mind was far from the familiar terrain. She was still there, on that beach, caught in the unbearable tension of what had almost happened.

Her cheeks burned as the memory of Drew's thumb brushing the corner of her lips played on an endless loop in her head, her body still humming with the phantom sensation of his touch. His words echoed too, low and intimate, threading themselves into her chest like vines that refused to loosen.

"You make me want to lose every bit of control I have left."

She swallowed hard, her heart kicking up at the thought. She could still hear the gravel in his voice, the quiet, restrained edge of it, like he was holding back something much bigger, something that both terrified and thrilled her.

The way he had looked at her—God, the way he had looked at her. His eyes had been dark and unreadable, but the weight of them had felt like a confession, like he'd peeled back something raw and vulnerable for her to see. No one had ever looked at her like that before, as though she was the only person in the world, as though she was the center of his gravity.

And then there was the way he'd leaned in, the way her whole body had reacted to him closing that space. She had been so sure, for one split second, that he was going to kiss her. Her pulse spiked at the thought, and her lips tingled with the unbearable ache of what might have been.

What would it have felt like? The thought clung to her mind, searing and impossible to shake. She could almost imagine it—his mouth against hers, warm and insistent, the rough edge of his lips sending a slow, deliberate heat coursing through her. Would he have kissed her softly at first, like a question he was unsure she'd answer? Or would it have been deeper, a quiet surrender to whatever storm raged between them?

Her breath hitched as her thoughts spiraled further, her skin prickling with the memory of how close they'd been. Would his hands have lingered at her jaw, his fingers brushing her hair, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them? Would she have melted against him, unable to stop herself from responding, from giving in to the pull that had been building between them from the moment they'd met?

The idea sent a warmth pooling low in her belly, an ache that left her unsteady. It wasn't just about the kiss, she realized; it was about what it would mean—this unspoken, undeniable thing between them finally breaking free. Her pulse fluttered wildly at the thought, and she bit her lip hard, trying to tamp down the rush of emotions surging through her.

And yet, the thought stayed with her, lingering and heavy, making her chest tighten with a mixture of longing and frustration.

Clementine bit her lip, her fingers curling into her palms as she walked. She could feel the heat rising in her face again, and she silently cursed herself for letting her thoughts spiral this way.

But how could she not? How could she pretend that moment hadn't happened? That he hadn't whispered those words, hadn't looked at her like he wanted to drown in her?

Her chest tightened with the weight of it all. She knew she was in dangerous territory—she knew she was teetering on the edge of something that could upend everything. And yet, there was no denying the pull she felt toward him, the way her entire body lit up whenever he was near, like he was a fire she couldn't help but gravitate toward.

The walk home felt endless, and yet it was over too soon. The familiar villa loomed ahead, its golden stone glowing in the fading light, and she felt a pang of something she couldn't quite name. Relief? Dread? Regret?

As they climbed the steps to the front door, Drew's voice broke through her haze, casual and even as he exchanged some remark with Enea. Clementine's stomach flipped, and she dared a glance at him, only to find him as composed as ever.

How could he look so unaffected when she felt like her entire world had just tilted off its axis? Did he not feel it too—that unbearable, inescapable pull between them? Or was he better at hiding it, better at pretending?

Her hand gripped the cool brass of the door handle, and she paused for a moment, closing her eyes to steady herself. She needed to get a grip. She needed to act normal. But as she stepped inside and felt the faint echo of Drew's presence behind her, she knew it was hopeless.

Every thought, every breath, every nerve in her body was still tied to that moment on the beach, to the way he had looked at her, touched her, spoken to her. She was completely and utterly starstruck, caught in the gravitational pull of someone she couldn't seem to escape, even if she wanted to. And worst of all, she wasn't sure she wanted to escape at all.

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The villa was cloaked in silence, the kind of quiet that felt alive, thrumming with the faint hum of cicadas and the occasional murmur of the wind threading through the olive trees. Clementine lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind restless and unrelenting. Sleep wouldn't come, though her body begged for it. Her thoughts were caught in an endless loop, circling back to Drew—his words, his hands, the way his eyes had lingered on her with an intensity that both thrilled and terrified her.

It wasn't just the way he'd touched her today, the tender scrape of his thumb against her lips, or the way his voice had seemed to lower into something raw and intimate. It was everything—the quiet, almost imperceptible way he moved through her world, yet somehow managed to take up all the air in it. Clementine pressed her palms to her face, trying to will the heat in her cheeks away. She hated how he affected her, how even now she could feel the ghost of his touch, the scent of him, the way his voice wrapped around her name like it was meant to be his.

Finally, when the weight of her thoughts became unbearable, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and padded barefoot into the hallway. The cool stone under her feet grounded her, each step a quiet release from the confines of her room. She didn't have a destination in mind, but the villa seemed to guide her, leading her toward the source of her ache.

The front door was slightly ajar, and through the gap, she caught a glimpse of him. Drew was outside, leaning against the low stone wall of the terrace, a bottle of beer dangling from his fingers. The moonlight caught him in profile, sharp and precise, highlighting the strong line of his jaw and the curve of his lips. His buzzed hair, usually so unassuming, gleamed faintly under the pale light, accentuating the strength of his features.

For a moment, Clementine froze, her hand resting on the doorframe. He looked so at ease, so wholly himself, that she felt like an intruder, as though she was witnessing something private and sacred. And yet, there was a weight in his posture, a heaviness in the way he stood that called to her, tugging her forward like an invisible thread she couldn't resist.

Pushing the door open just enough to step outside, she let the warm night air envelop her. Drew turned at the sound, his blue eyes softening when they landed on her.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked, his voice low and steady, as though he'd been expecting her all along.

She shook her head, her arms wrapping around herself. "No. You?"

He gave a faint shrug, his lips curving into a small, almost wistful smile. "Not tonight."

She hesitated, caught in the charged silence between them, then stepped closer, leaning against the wall beside him. The air between them felt heavy, thick with the weight of everything unsaid, and Clementine found herself hyperaware of the space between their bodies—or lack thereof.

"Today was..." She trailed off, unsure how to put the whirlwind of emotions into words.

Drew glanced at her, his gaze unreadable but piercing. "Something," he said simply, his voice soft yet firm, like he wasn't offering her an out but rather an invitation.

Her chest tightened, her fingers curling around the edge of the wall. She could still feel the phantom heat of his hand brushing hers, the way his thumb She could still feel the phantom heat of his hand brushing hers, the way his thumb had lingered against her lips, deliberate and searching. Clementine bit her lower lip, her breath uneven as the memory flooded her senses. She wondered if he could sense it—this pull she felt toward him, magnetic and unyielding, like the inevitability of the tide.

"I think you enjoy leaving people hanging," she said softly, her voice carrying a faint teasing lilt, though the undercurrent of vulnerability was impossible to hide.

Drew's lips twitched into a faint smile, but there was a seriousness in his eyes that rooted her in place. "Only when I'm not sure if they want to catch me," he replied, his voice quiet yet devastating in its honesty.

The air between them seemed to still, the cicadas fading into the background as Clementine's heart pounded in her chest. She didn't know how to respond to that, didn't trust herself to speak without betraying the way he unraveled her. Instead, she turned her gaze to the horizon, the vast expanse of dark sky and distant stars offering a fragile anchor.

Drew shifted beside her, the faint rustle of his movement drawing her attention back to him. He wasn't looking at the stars—he was looking at her, his blue eyes steady and impossibly deep. The intensity of his gaze made her stomach twist in the most excruciatingly pleasant way.

"Today..." He trailed off, his voice softer now, as though he were searching for the right words. "There's something about you, Clementine. Like you belong in all of this—the sky, the lake, the silence. It's hard to explain."

Her breath caught, and she felt heat bloom in her chest, spreading like wildfire. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. She wanted to tell him that she felt it too, that the world seemed sharper, more alive, when he was near, but her voice betrayed her.

Instead, she watched as Drew turned toward her, his hand brushing the edge of the wall. His fingers curled against the stone, mere inches from hers, and the closeness made her pulse quicken.

"You have this way of making everything seem... more," he murmured, his voice low and rough around the edges. "Like nothing else exists but the moment I'm in with you."

Clementine's chest tightened, her lips parting as she tried to steady her breathing. The honesty in his words, the rawness of it, sent a shiver through her. She felt dizzy, unmoored, as though the ground beneath her feet had dissolved.

Drew leaned closer, just enough that she could feel the faint warmth of his breath against her cheek. Her eyes flicked to his lips, and for one wild, reckless moment, she thought he might kiss her.

But then, just as quickly, he stopped, his gaze flickering over her face with a quiet reverence that made her heart ache. His hand lifted, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his fingers lingering against her temple.

The simple gesture sent a wave of heat through her, her skin burning where he'd touched her. She couldn't think, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but look at him, her body caught in the unbearable pull of him.

And then the spell broke.

"Hey, you two!" Chloe's voice rang out from the villa, bright and teasing. "You're missing all the fun!"

Clementine jerked back, her heart racing as she turned toward the sound. The warmth of Drew's hand left her skin, and she felt the absence of it like a physical ache.

Drew exhaled softly, his lips curving into a faint, almost resigned smile. "Guess we should head back," he said, his voice steady, though his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer than necessary.

She nodded, her throat tight as she stepped away from the wall. The walk back to the villa felt endless, the silence between them heavy with unspoken words. Clementine's mind raced, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind of what-ifs and could-have-beens.

As they reached the doorway, she hesitated, her hand brushing the frame. Drew paused beside her, his gaze questioning. For a moment, she thought about saying something, about asking him to stay, but the words caught in her throat.

Instead, she turned toward him, her heart pounding as she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. It was dangerously close to the corner of his mouth, a line she hadn't dared cross but had come so achingly near.

When she pulled back, her eyes met his, and for a brief, fleeting moment, she thought she saw something in his gaze—something raw and unguarded that mirrored the chaos inside her.

"Goodnight, Drew," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

He didn't respond right away, his eyes holding hers as though he were searching for something. Then, with a faint, almost imperceptible nod, he stepped inside, leaving her alone with the night and the unbearable weight of everything that had just passed between them.

As she made her way back to her room, Clementine's thoughts consumed her, raw and unrelenting. She pressed her fingers to her lips, still warm from the phantom heat of his skin. Her body buzzed, restless and alive, every nerve alight as though Drew's touch had imprinted itself deep beneath her surface.

What would it have felt like if she'd turned her head, if her lips had found his instead? She imagined it vividly now, her breath hitching as the thought bloomed and spread through her. Would his kiss have been soft, teasing at first, or would it have deepened quickly, full of the same quiet intensity that simmered beneath his gaze? The idea made her stomach twist with need, her pulse racing as heat unfurled low and insistent.

She could almost feel it—his hands grazing her waist, the weight of them steadying her, his body pressing closer until there was no space left between them. The rasp of his voice lingered in her mind, low and full of promise, the memory sending a shiver down her spine. She clenched her thighs together, her breaths shallow as she leaned against the door for support, trying to collect herself and failing.

Her skin felt too warm, too sensitive, as if every brush of the sheets against her body carried his touch. The sharp tug of longing was almost unbearable, her mind replaying every stolen glance, every deliberate brush of his fingers. Her cheeks burned as she realized how much she wanted him—not just in fleeting thoughts but in a way that felt raw and undeniable, her body aching for the closeness she hadn't allowed herself to imagine until now.

Lying beneath the cool sheets, she bit her lip, her heart thundering as Drew's words echoed in her mind, tethering her to him in ways she couldn't explain. There was no denying it now: she wanted him. Desperately. The yearning coursing through her was intoxicating, terrifying, and impossibly real.

━━━━━ author's note !
third chapter is finally here !!! this one is full of tension between them but i'm LOVING it so much!

i just can't get enough of writing this story i swear 🩷

let me know what you think and give a little star 🌟 if you like! interact pls i would really appreciate to know that you think about the story

thanks for the attention 💗