The Pool Boy

by Penny Wylder

  I’m right. In the back corner, I find him. The shears are in his hands and he looks so at ease that I start to cry before I even reach him. He sees me coming toward him and has the good sense to drop the shears to the ground before I jump into his arms. He crushes me in his embrace, and I’m sobbing because now I can and someone else will hold me. Tears are pouring out of me because it’s not fair. His voice is in my ear asking me what happened and if I’m alright, asking me what’s wrong.

  Somehow I find my voice and tell him. I tell him everything about how my father ruined my chances for this job, and every other job I’ve applied to this summer. That he knows about us. That I never thought he’d do this to me. That he’s going to disown me if I don’t obey.

  James doesn’t say anything, instead holding me against him. When I’ve finished, he releases me long enough to take off his thick gloves and drop them on the ground. Then he scoops me up in his arms and starts walking.

  “Where are we going?”

  “I’m taking you home. To my home.”

  I put my hand on his chest and try to get down, but he’s not having it. “What about the work? What about Mike?”

  James snorts, “The property is immaculate, and I’m sure the hedges can survive another couple of days before Mike comes back. And if your father sees me and tells me to stay, I’m going to tell him that it’s going to cost him two million dollars.”

  I laugh through my tears and let James carry me away.

  14

  Vera

  James barely gives me time to grab my things. He’s almost more eager to be out of the house than I am, but I’m not going to spend this weekend in my pajamas either. I throw my small suitcase on the bed and gather what I need: underwear, jeans, a few t-shirts, contingency clothes, my toiletries, laptop and phone. I look around, and even though I’m only grabbing things for the weekend, there’s nothing I really want to take with me. It all just seems like stuff. My now-old room is filled with meaningless stuff.

  I zip up the suitcase and hand it to James, at the last second grabbing my portfolio. Then we’re out of the house and into his car and I feel like I can breathe again. I open the window and close my eyes. The noise of the wind and traffic, the feeling of the air on my face, it all distracts me from rethinking everything. The breeze steals me away from reliving my father’s words over and over again. Or at least I try to pretend that they’re not popping into my head every other second that passes.

  There’s a brush of skin on the back of my hand as James gently takes it in his. He doesn’t say anything, but even that small gesture is enough for me. He’s taking me home. To his home.

  I ignore the way my stomach drops into a nervous free fall. I know it shouldn’t feel like such a big thing. Plenty of people who date see each other’s houses right from the start. But still, it feels like a big thing. I feel my pulse rise, and I get more nervous about this. Do I want it to be a big thing? Is it possible for something to grow between two people so quickly? I guess it doesn’t matter if it’s possible—it happened—how, I’m not sure…it was just supposed to be sex…

  I squeeze his hand and feel him squeeze back. The warm feeling returns to the pit of my stomach, and I’m very grateful that he’s more than just sex. I’m not sure how long it is that we drive, or even where we’re going. I keep my eyes closed and try to relax. I’m not very successful, but the movement of the road is soothing.

  When the car finally comes to a stop I blink open my eyes, squinting against the sun. We’re in the driveway of a beautiful two-story house. It has a classic design, but it’s painted a pale gray with crisp white trim that lends it a modern edge. A beautiful oak tree stands in the front yard, tall and full-canopied. It’s a testament to how long this house has been here. I remember its history, how James inherited it from his benefactor.

  James grabs my suitcase from the back and takes my hand again, leading me inside. The interior is also cool and pale, with very current style lines that make me think he’s remodeled it. James disappears down the hall with my suitcase, and I wander after him.

  I see the way he put his living room together so it’s light and open. It feels so inviting that I sit down on the couch while looking around. He has a minimalist eye for detail that I find really appealing. Not the first thing I would have guessed, but now that I know him a little better it makes sense. He lived with so little for so long that he only keeps the things that are really important to him.

  I hear James walk in behind me through an open archway into the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water for me, and I take it.

  “Thanks.” Once I start to drink, I can’t stop. I didn’t even realize that I was thirsty.

  “How are you feeling?” he asks, taking the empty glass from me.

  I take a deep breath and release it. “I really don’t know. I still feel a bit blindsided, to be honest. And so naïve. And just…sad.”

  “That makes sense. You’re not naïve, though, Vera. Far from it.”

  He sits down beside me and puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. My body relaxes and a sudden wave of exhaustion flows through me. “Is it normal that I feel so tired? It’s barely noon.”

  He nods. “It’s normal after a shock. I think you can definitely count what you discovered this morning as a shock.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Here.” He pulls me to my feet. “I have just the thing to relax you and take your mind off things.”

  I open my mouth, and he beats me to it.

  “Not sex.” He’s grinning as he leads me into a spacious master bedroom. “That comes later.”

  A laugh spills out of me in spite of myself. “And what are we doing now?”

  “I’m going to give you a massage.” He pulls down the blankets on the bed. “I think you’ve earned it. I just have one request.”

  I smile. “Oh?”

  James stands in front of me, our faces close. “I’ve imagined you naked in my bed, and there are few things I want more than to see it.”

  I lean forward and kiss him softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I think that can be arranged.” I breathe against his lips. Peeling my t-shirt over my head, I let him unclasp my bra and toss it away. James sinks to his knees and then my pants are gone. He leans forward as if to touch me, but I move away, instead crawling across his bed.

  His sheets are dark and soft, and I drape myself across them. I turn to look at him and the heat in his eyes is palpable as he takes in the sight of me. I follow his gaze as it moves along every inch of my body, and the pull in my core suddenly makes me think I might want the sex to be sooner instead of later. “Is this what you imagined?” I ask him.

  “Much better,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. I don’t have to look at his pants to know that he’s hard. He clears his throat. “Time for your massage.”

  “I have a request too,” I say, making him pause. “I never want to see you in that blue polo shirt ever again.”

  His smile is slow and sexy. “I think that can be arranged,” he says, pulling the shirt up over his head and tossing it in a corner. The morning light hits his body, highlighting every line. The longer I stare, the more I understand what people mean when they say breathtaking.

  James grabs a bottle of lotion from the top of his dresser, reminding me of the last time he did that, heat flooding closer to my core. “I’m rethinking the ‘no sex’ now,” I say.

  He laughs. “You’re still exhausted, and in a couple minutes you’re going to feel it again.” He climbs onto the bed with me, turning me over so my back is exposed.

  “I’m sure I could stay awake for it,” I mumble into the pillow.

  The lotion is cool on my skin, and the movement of James’s hands quickly warms it. His fingers move across my back, strong and slow. He starts at my shoulders, dragging down all the way to my ass and back up, working my skin with his palms. I hate to admit that he’s right, but my exhaustion comes back full force as my body starts relaxing unde
r his hands. He starts a slow path down one side of me, pressing deeply into my muscles.

  “You’re very good at this,” I say, though I’m not sure it came out as coherent.

  “Thank you.”

  I lose myself in the feel of his fingers, and slowly every part of me relaxes. With each stroke of his hand the world falls out from under me, and soon I drift off into sleep.

  It’s James’s voice that brings me back to consciousness, but he’s not talking to me. His voice is hushed.

  “That’s good,” he says. “I’m really glad to hear that.”

  Through the fog I realize that he’s talking on the phone. It’s funny to me, I never imagined him talking on the phone because we have yet to do that with each other. It hasn’t exactly been necessary with him showing up at my house every day.

  “Something came up, and it’s important. But tell him hello for me. I’ll be sure to drop by sometime next week. Will he still be at St. Mary’s?”

  A silence.

  “When does he come home then?”

  I work on opening my eyes. I’m still draped across the bed, the windows now showing the light of late afternoon. I’m covered with a blanket now, but still naked. James’s voice comes from behind me.

  “Good. Listen, there’s a little bit of a mess in the back corner of the Caldwell residence. I’m sorry about that—I left the wheelbarrow and some tools out there. I’ll text you a list of what I think I left.”

  He laughs softly. “Yeah, it has a bit to do with that.” He listens for a moment. When he speaks again his voice softens. “No. I promise that it’s good. It’s a very good thing.”

  I can hear the smile in his voice. “All right. Keep me posted, and I’ll give you a heads up when I’m going to come by. Take care.”

  There’s a soft tap of his finger against the screen as he hangs up and I hear him set his phone on the nightstand. I stretch, my muscles feeling amazing from the work he did on them. Rolling over to face him, I ask, “Who was that?”

  James smiles at me, a brilliant smile that tells me he’s happy I’m awake. He drags me across the bed and pulls me against his body. “That was Mike,” he says.

  “Ah, the infamous Mike,” I say. “I’m so happy Mike happened to need this week off.”

  “Thank god for Mike,” he agrees, and kisses me. He smoothes an arm down my back, pressing me harder against him as he traces my lips with his tongue. I open my mouth for him, and he plunges into me, reminding me of all the other things he’s done and has yet to do with his tongue. God, I could live forever in his kisses.

  I pull away for a breath. “Were you supposed to see him tonight?”

  He raises an eyebrow. “I’m hoping you weren’t actually thinking about Mike during that kiss.”

  “No,” I say, blushing, “but I don’t want to keep you from seeing your friends.”

  James runs a hand along my side, and I suddenly have goosebumps. “It wasn’t anything official. I said I might stop by the hospital.”

  It clicks in my brain, then. “You said his dad was having surgery.”

  “It was successful. Mike’s been a good friend for a long time, so I know his family. I figured I’d stop by and say hi.” He laughs. “Mike says his dad’s grumpy as hell.”

  “We can go,” I say.

  “It’s all right. He’s staying in the hospital for a few more days. Right now I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

  I make a face. “I’m not made of glass. I’m upset, but it was just an argument. I’ll survive.”

  “An argument where your dad threatened to disown you.”

  “Still,” I say softly, “it’s only words. There are worse problems to have.”

  He looks at me for a moment. “If you really want to go, a visit might cheer him up.”

  “Then let’s go. I really mean it.”

  “Okay,” he agrees. I try to roll off the bed and he stops me. “That is, if I can stand to let you out of this bed when you look like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you just woke up naked in my bed,” he says, rolling over me and pressing me into the mattress. It feels so good I let out a long sigh.

  “I did just do that,” I admit.

  “I know,” he whispers, mouth against my neck. “And I can only imagine what you’re going to look like when you wake up in my bed after you’ve been thoroughly fucked.”

  My breath is suddenly shallow, and I feel my pussy get wet at the thought. I wrap my legs around his hips and he grinds against me. The fabric of his jeans is rough against my clit, and the grind of it has me gasping already. His mouth slides along my neck, leaving a trail of tingles behind from the heat of his lips and tongue. It’s not enough. I pull his face back to mine as he thrusts against me again, and I groan into his mouth. The muscles of his back are hard under my hands and I can feel the hardness straining in his jeans.

  I force myself away from his lips, trying to gather enough breath for speech. “If we don’t stop, we both know that we won’t leave this bed.”

  There’s a wicked gleam in his eye. “That sounds like a challenge.”

  “Let me up.” My attempts at a stern face dissolve into a smile. “I want to see Mike.”

  He groans, but he does let me up. I find my suitcase by the wall and dig through it for some clothes. I’m opting for casual again, since that’s pretty much what I brought. I get dressed quickly and grab my makeup bag, determined to make myself look like I didn’t sleep for half the day.

  James pulls a shirt from his closet—a thin long sleeve shirt that clings to his body and makes me stare so long that he notices. He pushes up the sleeves while I’m watching and it just makes the look so much better.

  “You’re staring,” he says.

  “Guilty,” I grin. I force myself back to the mirror. “It’s just so much better than the polo shirt.”

  He cracks up laughing behind me.

  I finish getting ready and within a few minutes we’re back in the car and on our way. “Should we bring something?” I ask. “Maybe cookies?”

  “That’s a nice thought,” James says, “but I don’t think that we should bring cookies to a man who just had heart surgery.”

  “Fair point.”

  We pull up to St. Mary’s hospital, and I find myself suddenly nervous. It’s clear that Mike and his family mean a lot to James, and I don’t want to embarrass him. Maybe he was right—maybe we shouldn’t have come. But it’s too late to turn back now.

  James takes my hand as we walk into the hospital. It strikes me how much I like something as simple as walking hand in hand. I don’t know that I’ve ever had that with another boyfriend. If I did, the feeling wasn’t nearly as natural.

  Mike’s father is on the third floor, and before I know it we’re there. As soon as we walk into Mr. Willis’s room, I recognize Mike from his work around our house. He’s a little bit shorter than James, with a young face and close-cropped brown hair. I’m suddenly embarrassed by the fact that I never knew his name until James told me. I never cared to know. Just another instance of my own self-absorption. I hope I can make it right.

  I see Mike’s eyes go wide as he sees me. Then his gaze moves to my hand entwined with James’s and I think he’s struggling to keep his mouth closed. “Miss Caldwell,” he says, “I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

  He holds out a hand and I take it with a firm grip and a warm smile. “Hello, Mike. It’s so good to see you again.”

  James lets go of me long enough to give his friend one of those complicated guy handshakes before taking my hand again. I’m glad he does.

  “I suppose I’ll get none of the attention even though I’m the one who’s admitted?” a voice says.

  I look over at the hospital bed, and find that Mr. Willis is not what I was expecting. When James said he was grumpy, I thought he might be a tiny old man, face tangled with frown lines and disapproval. Mr. Willis in reality is closer to Santa Claus with his rosy cheeks and a face tha
t has joy written all over it—even if he is glowering.

  “Who did you bring with you, James?”

  “Hey, Mr. Willis,” James says, pulling me with him over to the bed. “I’m glad you’re doing well.”

  “They’ve failed to kill me so far, though the nurses are certainly doing their best with this sorry excuse for food.”

  I laugh in spite of myself, and Mr. Willis’s eyes focus on me again.

  “This is Vera Caldwell,” James says. “My…” He looks at me, and I don’t know what he’s going to say. How do you describe us and the backwards way we went about things? “She’s my girlfriend.”

  A glow, warm and golden, slides through me as I extend my hand toward Mr. Willis. “It’s nice to meet you. Sorry about the food.”

  He pushes his glasses up his nose and inspects me. “Well,” he says, “I can already tell you’re far too good for our James.” I think I see a hint of teasing beneath his cranky facade.

  “I doubt that.”

  “Well,” he says, “pull up a chair and tell me about yourself and we’ll find out.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Mike interrupts from across the room. “I need to talk to James for a minute about picking the slack back up at work. So you two talk, and James and I will step outside.”

  “Sure,” I say, nervous as all get out. I tend to be shy with new people. James gives my shoulder a squeeze as he heads for the door, and I’m left alone with Mr. Willis.

  “So,” he says, all pretense of a grumpy old man fading away, “what kind of dirt do you want on James? Because I know it all and am happy to give you enough blackmail material to last for the rest of your life.”

  My laugh echoes through the room. I think I’m going to like Mr. Willis.

  15