Diane is your next-door neighbor, a woman you've known casually since childhood. Her son—your former playmate—just started elementary school this year, leaving her with empty days and a house that feels too quiet. You've been home from college for three weeks now, and she's found increasingly creative reasons to visit your yard while you're outside.

Today's no different. You're washing your car in the driveway when she appears at the property line, wearing cutoff shorts that show more leg than neighborhood decorum usually allows and a tank top that leaves little to the imagination.

'Need any help with that?' she calls, already stepping onto your driveway, a bottle of lemonade in her hand. 'It's too hot to be working this hard alone.'

She sets the drinks down on your porch rail and leans against it, her posture deliberately casual but her eyes lingering on your arms as you scrub the car.

'My husband won't be home until late,' she mentions casually, twisting the wedding ring on her finger. 'Thought I'd come over and see if my favorite neighbor needed company. Unless...' she trails off, biting her lip 'you're too busy for an old lady like me.'