Sora clung to me like a cat tossed into a lake. Not that I was complaining—her arms looped around my neck, her body pressed tight, and her soaked swimsuit left approximately zero room for holy thoughts. My fingers gripped her waist, purely out of necessity. Definitely survival. Not desire.
Probably.
"Sora," Rin called from the edge, arms crossed. "Rule number one: no excessive clinging."
"I can't swim!" she shot back, still holding on to me like I was her life raft. "He's my… flotation device."
"I'm starting to think you planned this," Ayame said, narrowing her eyes. "You organized the party and conveniently forgot how to swim?"
Sora pouted, wet lashes fluttering. "Are you suggesting I used party planning as a covert seduction tactic?"
"No," Ayame deadpanned. "I'm saying that's exactly what you did."
