Jacob had a very specific rule for his tropical vacations: the second he felt the first bead of sweat hit his brow, the nearest body of water became his destination. He didn't believe in the "slow transition" of changing into trunks or finding a towel. To Jacob, the shock of the water was only effective if it was instantaneous.
He was mid-sentence, debating the merits of local coffee with his husband near the resort's infinity edge, when the humidity finally broke him. Without breaking eye contact or setting down his sunglasses, he pivoted and walked off the ledge falling into the deep end. The heavy denim of his jeans surged with weight, and his green tee clung to him like a second skin, but as he waded back toward the steps, the sheer relief on his face said it all. He might be walking back to the room in squelching shoes, but for the first time all day, he was finally at the perfect temperature.