a dip in the pool, a three to the two

Mingyu thinks of short black hair, bulging biceps, rippling pectorals that shift with every movement. He thinks of plump lips and sparkling eyes, of a voice that feels like a soft caress on his skin whenever he’s being spoken to. Then he thinks of a sharp jaw, of a cunning smile and eyes with long lashes that peek over sunglasses to focus on him, making him feel hot below the collar of his shirt. He thinks of long legs in short shorts and knobbly fingers that briefly touch his wrist whenever he’s at arm’s length. Does he have a favourite? It’s a complicated question.