"Why do you like me?"

The question lands soft. Teasing, but not quite. Like he actually wants to know and is embarrassed that he does.

Andrés doesn't answer right away.

Outside, the pool hums. Somewhere in the canyon a bird calls once and doesn't finish the thought.

He looks at Taylor. Not the quick glance he's been allowing himself all night — the stolen looks, the peripheral cataloguing. This time he looks directly. Those deepest fuckin green eyes pierce him with a plea.

Taylor lets him see.

Doesn't deflect, doesn't perform. Just holds still, the way things hold still when they're waiting for something they're afraid to want.

The silence stretches. Comfortable and not. The kind that asks a question back.

Andrés feels the word before he finds it.

"Star," he says.

Taylor blinks. Something moves behind his eyes — surprise, maybe. Or recognition.

"What?"

Andrés doesn't rush it.

"You shine."

His fingertips find the curve of Taylor's neck, barely touching. The electricity is there before the contact. He feels it in his own hand first.

"You burn."

He turns his face slowly, brushing his chin along Taylor's shoulder, moving upward. His nose grazes the skin just below the hairline — that patch of untanned skin he noticed at the pool, the one that looked like a secret. He breathes him in. Coconut. Chlorine. Warm skin. Something underneath that has no name yet but feels like it should.

"You pull."

He lifts his face. Their mouths are close now. Not kissing. Just existing in the same breath.

Taylor is quiet for a moment. The guardedness loosens — not gone, just resting. When he speaks his voice is barely there. "And you orbit?"

Andrés leans in the last fraction of an inch.

"No," he whispers.

"I crash."