Paul is already swimming when we go outside. With my sunglasses on I can stare openly and not be obvious about it as he glides seamlessly through the water. I can’t think of anything more satisfying than the look on his face when he finally sees me. With my dad preoccupied beside the booze, I take off my cover and Paul’s eyes grow wide, mouth opening like he’s about to belt out a big note. He’s lucky no one’s splashing or he would drown.
Emily is beside me in a modest one piece and a pair of shorts. She’s always been self-conscious in a bathing suit. “Good thing I brought out the big guns. Did you see the look on his face?”
With a quiet cat-call whistle at me, and a slap on my ass, E
mily flits off to talk to the boys she invited. I sit on the edge of the pool with my feet dangling in, adjusting my body to the temperature. It’s a hundred and too-fucking-hot out and I can already feel the sun burning my shoulders. I’m slathering 50 SPF Banana Boat on every exposed piece of skin because I have the complexion of a Tim Burton character and this bathing suit would make hilarious tan lines. The point is to make Paul hot if he ever sees me naked, not make him laugh.
His body glistens wet, his hair slicked back. After a few minutes of staring, he finally swims over to me and props his arms on my knees. Having him this close to me with so little fabric between us spins my naughty thoughts into overdrive.
“How’s school going?” he asks, looking up at me and squinting so that I can see just a drop of those impossible blue eyes between his thick lashes.
I can hardly think straight with him so close. He’s one fine wine I’d like to taste, maybe lick the rim … drink too much of. Get drunk on. He looks all King Triton with his wet skin, silver hair, and muscles. “It’s fine. How’s work?”
He used to own his own construction company here in town, but he sold it suddenly two years ago and moved away. I don’t know what he does for a living anymore. I don’t know much about his life at all except what little my parents tell me. Since moving, he’s been like a ghost. For the longest time it was as if he went out of his way to avoid me, which is why I’m so surprised to see him here at my party. That first year of him being gone, I’d dug through the archives of my brain, wondering if maybe I’d made him mad somehow. Then I started wondering if it was because of a woman. I’d been a jealous wreck, but my dad had insisted it wasn’t, even though he wasn’t exactly sure why he’d moved either.
“Fine,” Paul says, and smiles up at me. He visibly swallows and his smile falters when he asks, “So, do you have a boyfriend yet?” He looks around at all the cute guys Emily had invited. “I bet they’re eating out of your hand. Especially when you wear things like this.” He tugs at the string of my bikini top, loosening it.
“Why, you jealous?” I say, only half joking.
“Maybe a little.”
“Well, I don’t have a boyfriend. But there is someone I’ve had my eye on for a while.”
I suddenly become self-conscious and ask, “What about you? Do you have a girlfriend?”
I chew on the inside of my cheek as I wait for him to answer. What if my dad had been wrong about him moving to be with someone? I don’t know how I would handle that kind of news. Of course I would be crushed, and I don’t know if I ever really thought we could be together, but as long as he’s single, there’s hope.
When he simply says, “No,” my breath leaves me in a rush and my shoulders rise now that that weight has been lifted off.
He asks more questions about school and the classes I’m taking. Our conversation comes easy, and I realize I’d forgotten how effortless it has always been to talk to him. That was a big part of his appeal growing up. I was always an awkward girl without friends; taller than nearly everyone else my age, hitting puberty before everyone else. And yet, with Paul, I never felt weird or out of place. He’s always made me feel special.
We’re interrupted when someone suggests a chicken fight. The pool is full and people are making teams. Paul says, “How about we show these rookies how it’s done.”
“Let’s do it.” I slip into the water and the cold is perfect on this sweltering day. I feel weightless—and not because I’m floating in water. It’s such a relief that Paul and I are back to our normal, flirty selves, and I’ve almost forgotten about my hang over and the drunk text.
He ducks under the water, and when he comes back up, I’m lifted onto his shoulders. Water cascades down my back and breasts, running on to him. I brush my fingers through his salt and pepper hair, pulling it back away from his eyes. When he looks in either direction, the stubble of his face tickles the insides of my thighs. I start to wonder if he can feel how hot my opening is against the back of his neck, if he’s as conscious about how close his mouth is to it as I am.
He caresses my shins beneath the water where no one can see, raising goosebumps and sending chills through me. I touch his ear lobes, massaging them between my fingertips, and there’s so much sexual tension between us I’m sure others in the pool can feel the charge in the air.
When the game starts, I’m having more fun just sitting on his shoulders than I have in a long time, and it’s nice to forget about school and bills and all the other grown-up stuff that bogs me down on a regular basis.
We make a great team. Emily and her future one-night stand are the only ones who come even close to knocking me off Paul’s shoulders. Paul and I kill it at chicken fighting and are the victors every time. When we’re done and everyone else starts to leave the pool, he ducks back under the water, no longer between my legs and I miss him there.
I make my way to the cave to get out of the sun. It’s quiet and dark, away from the prying eyes of everyone else. Paul ducks beneath the water, and when he comes back up for air, he’s in the cave with me. He lifts me up into his arms, cradling me. “Remember playing Superman when you were a kid?” he asks.
“Don’t do it!” I say, laughing, but I’m already being tossed in the air before I’m finished protesting, making a huge splash when I land. Coming out of the water, my top slips. Not all the way off, but enough for the pinks of my areolas to show. I’m mortified, cupping my breasts.
Paul comes up to me and removes my hands. The suit is literally hanging on by my nipples. He adjusts the triangles of fabric to cover me, fingers grazing my collar bone as he moves them up to tie the strings tighter.
“Oops,” he says with a wraith of a smile.
“They keep trying to escape,” I say about my breasts.
“Maybe you should let them off the leash once in a while.” His smile stirs the beast between my legs. It wants out. It wants to devour Paul.
“Maybe I will.” I act like I’m about to take off my top. He watches intently to see how far I will actually go.
When I drop my hands without taking off my top, he says, “Tease,” and splashes me.
We take turns dunking each other under the water, which for me—and probably him too—is just another excuse for us to touch. He’s flirting in a way he never has before, a hand brushing slyly against my breasts, my ass. I do the same to him, too. He lifts me, this time grabbing between my legs, fingers digging into the fabric. It’s so startling that I don’t scream or make a noise when he tosses me. When I come out of the water I wipe my eyes and we both just stare at each other, his gaze bright and wanting.
I’m finally feeling bold enough to go up to him and tell him how much I want him, but then my mom calls out, “Everyone out of the pool. Time to cut the cake.”
The little water world Paul and I had been in, where only the two of us existed, starts to break up and scatter. The noise of the party and the fact that my parents are here slips into my reality and kills the mood.
Disappointed by the intrusion, I start to get out. I’m halfway up the ladder when I notice Paul isn’t following. “Aren’t you getting out?” I ask.
“No, I’m not. Thanks to you and that bikini.”
I feel myself blush and I have to admit, I do look pretty good in this bathing suit after all those kickboxing classes I’ve been taking. “What, this old thing?” I say and pull the fabric of the bottoms into my crack so that it looks like a thong.
Paul reaches out and slaps my bare ass cheeks with a loud thwack. I let out a sound of surprise, something between a yelp and a moan at the sudden sting and pleasure of it. The pain soon warps into wonderful warmth and a throbbing sensation. Suddenly I’m picturing myself naked and draped over his knee while he spanks my butt until there are pink handprints left behind.
Our eyes meet and his are hooded, watching me with obvious lust. If I wasn’t surrounded by my family, I’d fuck him right here and now.
“I … um,” I stammer. “I’ll go get you
a towel.”
I grab a towel off one of the lounge chairs and he’s out of the water. As I walk toward him, the shape of his erection beneath his board shorts is right there in front of me, straining against his waistband. He gives me ample opportunity to take it all in before reaching for the towel in my hands. And believe me, there’s a lot of it to take in. Maybe more than I can handle in one sitting. He’s definitely bigger than anyone I’ve ever been with before. I’d like to find out just how much my body can stretch.
Feeling exposed, I put my cover-up back on and walk to the table where my mom is lighting candles on my cake.
Everyone sings the birthday song. My dad sings the loudest. He’s definitely drunk. He’s not the singing type. I pass him another drink. As soon as he’s drunk enough, my mom will insist on taking him upstairs and putting him to bed to stave off any kind of embarrassment.
After cake a group of us play rummy while Paul and my parents catch up. I feel him watching me. Every time I look up, his eyes are right there and he offers me a smile.
The wind starts to pick up and the temperature drops. Those still standing after the unlimited supply of alcohol make their way indoors. It’s only a handful; Emily and her admirers, my parents, and Paul. Most of my friends leave early since there are tests tomorrow morning. We all drink more and talk. Paul huddles with my dad in their man corner, laughing and talking about old times. I steal glances at Paul and marvel at the way he commands a room with his quiet confidence. How everyone leans forward to hear what he has to say. There’s just something about him that demands attention without saying a word. And yet there’s not a single arrogant bone in his body. He’s truly beautiful.
Around midnight Emily goes home with a cute guy who sits in the front of several of my classes. It’s nearly one in the morning when my mom declares it’s time to take my dad upstairs.
“I should probably get home,” I say.
“Why don’t you just stay the night here?” my mom suggests.
Staying with Paul under the same roof while I’m amped up? That’s probably not a good idea. I don’t think I’d be able to control myself. With all the security cameras in the house—most of which I know the locations, but some of them I don’t—it would be too risky.