Preoccupied with the waves in the distance, I hear my name.
“Olivia, is that you?” I turn around to see Chase standing on his deck, naked from the waist up. He has the most perfect inverted triangle. Broad shoulders, every muscle in his solid body is toned. My eyes are drawn to the indentation of his hips that lead down to the deep V. What I wouldn’t do to get a glimpse of where that leads. “I didn’t know you were right next door.” His voice is low and raspy. Crap. Double crap. He has impeccable abs with a body to die for, and the way his shorts hang from his hips . . . How did I miss that? I turn away, my face flushed.
“I guess I am,” I reply, trying for nonchalance but failing miserably. I continue to stare out at the water, pretending he’s not there.
“Well, that makes my week significantly better.”
I look up, and there is a trace of a smile on his lips. My insides feel like they are on fire. How to respond to that? Maybe Brenda is right, and he does like me. No, I am not ready.
“I think I hear Brenda calling me, see ya.” I run towards the sliding glass door.
“Wait,” I hear him call out, but I am already in the house. Holy fuck. My heart is pounding. He is so breathtakingly beautiful. I lean against the wall breathing like I just ran a marathon. What the hell was that? I take a deep breath and walk in to where Brenda is finishing her conversation with my mother.
“Yes, I promise I will tell her to call you . . . Yes, she’s fine . . . Okay . . . Okay, bye.” She hangs up the phone and gives me that I-so-own-you look.
“I know, I’m sorry. Thank you. She can be a handful.”
She arches her eyebrows and gives me a small nod. “She’s worried about you. That’s what moms do. Are you okay? You seem out of breath.”
“Nope, great. I need another glass of wine. Do you want a refresher?” I try distracting her so she can drop the whole phone call thing.
“I can never say no to a glass of Pindar.”
Later in the afternoon, it starts to rain. The Weather Channel has been predicting thunderstorms for the past few days, and they finally got one right. Depending upon the storm, they’re usually spotty, raining on Fire Island but dry on the mainland. This particular storm is raining across both islands and over the Atlantic. Multiple bolts of lightning flash, and thunder crashes so loud it feels like the house is going to shake off the foundation. I get candles just in case the power goes out, as this section of the island is notorious for blackouts during a storm. The wires run underground for most parts of the island, but they haven’t upgraded this part of the island yet and the wires are still aboveground.
“Want to go over to Casino and play some pool? Should be no one in there to bother you today,” Brenda suggests.
”Yeah, sounds like a good idea. I’m up for it if you are. We’ll have to make a run for it, I don’t think I packed any umbrellas.” I look around the house to see if I was smart enough to pack one. “Nope, no umbrella.” I‘m displeased that I could forget such a simple, yet important, thing.
“I’m so glad I did my hair today,” Bren gripes under her breath.
“It’s just a little rain. You won’t melt, will you?” I tease.
“No.” She’s sulky. “Let’s get this over with.”
“This was your idea. Don’t blame me for your frizzing hair.” My tone is a little too cool and clipped.
“Okay, sorry. Let’s hurry then.”
The Casino has a few stragglers who got caught in the downpour waiting for it to slow down a bit before they make a run for their boats, otherwise the bar was empty. Someone has played the jukebox and Swedish House Mafia is singing “Don’t You Worry Child.” I look up on their band announcement board and see one of my favorite bands is playing here tomorrow afternoon. “Bren, looks who’s playing!” I exclaim with childlike excitement. That is sure to put me in a good mood. She turns to look and nods her head in agreement.
I go over to the jukebox, which is now all digital with every song under the sun loaded, and search through different bands. Ah, perfect. Fun is the answer. I choose one of my favorites, “Some Nights.” It depicts how I feel. Wondering just who I am.
I was with Evan so long, I forgot who I was. I was always a part of him, an extension. I was rarely alone. I think this is the most time I’ve spent with Brenda in well over a year. Evan was very possessive and didn’t allow me much time to do anything apart from him. I didn’t mind, though. It felt nice to have someone around twenty-four seven. Now it’s just me. Brenda pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Are we gonna play or what?” She points towards the pool table.
“Sure, you break, I need a drink. You want anything?”
“I’ll take a Ketel One and tonic, lime. Thanks.” She smiles as she chalks up the end of her cue stick.
I make my way over to the bar, and Melissa is there. “You still have my tab open, right?”
“Yes, your usual?” It’s pretty bad when you’ve been coming here as long as I have, and every bartender knows what you drink.
“Yup, and a Ketel and tonic with lime.”
I grab my beer and Bren’s drink and turn for the pool table when I walk into Him. Again. “Are you stalking me?” I ask all serious.
“Not consciously.” His lips quirk up into a half smile.
“Where are those noisy friends of yours, you know the ones that keep me up at night.” There’s a hint of disdain in my voice.
“They are . . . um . . . busy.” Oh, right. I keep forgetting he’s the odd one out since he came stag.
“Oh, well can you tell them to keep it down? It’s rude and disrespectful to the neighbors.” I make my way past him. He follows, looking interested in what we’re doing. Good Lord, why is he so tempting?
“You remember Brenda,” I mumble looking down toward the floor.
“How could I not, hello again,” he says with the most brilliant smile. It lights up the bar.
“Hey,” she says then grins at me. I see a light bulb appear over her head. “We’re playing pool. Want to play winner?” she says wickedly. Holy shit . . . Brenda . . . Oh, I know her game. I scowl at her, fuming. She will lose on purpose. Well, two can play at this game.
“Sure, play winner.” I smile at both of them. She knows I’m on to her, but she doesn’t care.
Brenda breaks and sinks both a stripe and a solid. “I’ll take solids,” she says with authority. She grabs the chalk, twirls it on the end of her stick, and lines up her next shot. She hits the five ball and misses the corner pocket. This could be a really long game. I grab my stick and look for a decent shot, one that is not too difficult but easy to miss. I line up on the thirteen ball and just as I’m about to hit my shot, Brenda says sweetly, “The eleven ball is an easier shot, why go for the thirteen?” Damn her! I concede and aim for the eleven. It goes in without a hitch. I could have sunk that ball blindfolded. I look around for a harder shot but the table is wide open. Chase is sitting across from us, intent on watching me. His right hand cups his chin as his thumb strokes his bottom lip. That mouth! That type of distraction can mess a girl up.
“I need the bridge,” I admonish, revealing my irritation at this whole mess.
“No, you don’t, there’s a shot on the twelve ball right there,” Bren points out oh so matter-of-factly. Shit. This is not going to work in my favor. I capitulate to her game and sink three balls in a row. I miss the ten ball by accident.
“You play really well.” He sounds surprised.
“Why, did you think because I’m a girl I would suck?”
“No . . . I . . . just . . .” He stands there dumfounded.
“It’s okay,” Brenda says smooth as silk. “She used to play for a league. We’re not all as good as she is.” She looks over at me and mouths “Cut it out.”
I stand there fuming over the fact that I’m going to wind up playing him even though I clearly don’t want to. Brenda is not about to relent. She lines up her shot and sinks the four ball but totally misses the seven. I chalk
up my cue and line up my next shot. Sink three more balls so all I have left is the eight ball. I look over at Brenda, all pleased with herself. “Eight ball in the right corner pocket,” I announce. I line up my shot and without effort sink the black ball into the corner. Fuck. This is going to be awkward.
“Guess that means it’s my turn.” A sphinx like smile appears on his lips. Doesn’t he have anything better to do than harass me?
“Guess it does.”
“You break since you won.” He cocks his head to one side and motions with his hand toward the table.
“I’m going to need another drink for this,” I say with a slight undercurrent of hostility, mostly directed toward Brenda.
“Please, allow me.” He smiles that adorable crooked smile and heads toward the bar.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I hiss at Brenda. “This is not what I want or need right now.”
“You said it yourself,” she replies trying to reason with me. “You don’t know what you need. Relax and have a good time.”
Sure, it’s easy for her to say. I want to relax and wallow in my misery, but there is no way she’s going to let that happen. I narrow my eyes, and her smile gets bigger. Who am I kidding, I can’t stay mad at her. I sigh and acquiesce to the game.
“Ready?” Chase asks, back with our drinks.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” I glance up at him only to find he’s gazing back at me expressionless. I turn around to say something to Brenda, but she’s disappeared to the other side of the bar, talking to a group of guys. She sees me staring over at her and waves. Death will come to her later. Now, I need to take a deep breath and focus on the game at hand. I grab the cue stick, chalk it up and go to the end of the table to break. I pull back on the cue and fire at the cue ball. The ball goes flying across the table taking my frustrations with it. Wow that felt good. I sink two stripes. “I’ll take stripes.” I am triumphant. Chase stands there smiling that amazing smile, shaking his head in disbelief. I can’t help but to smile back. I aim for the fifteen ball and miss horribly.
“My turn” he declares. He picks up his cue stick and chalks the end. Holy Shit. How can he make that look so sexual? My face turns bright red as I think about what he could do with those hands. I immediately look down at my feet so he can’t see my expression. I hear him hit a ball but can’t watch. I look up and see he’d sunk two balls. Good, I like a challenge. He comes around my side of the table and bends over to take a shot. Oh my God. I have to look away. He has the most amazing ass I have ever seen. Bending over the table like that does things to me. I close my eyes to clear my thoughts and concentrate on the game. He shoots at the one ball, and it bounces off the cushion and misses its target.
“How about a bet?” he challenges, a devilish smile appearing on his lips. “I win, you sit down with me, and we talk one on one. Maybe I’ll even get you to relax. You win, I’ll leave you alone. Go back to the house and not bother you again.”
I ponder this for a minute. What to do. He’s waiting for my decision. His face is impassive; he’s not giving anything away. God, he is way too beautiful. Well, this could be fun. “Okay, you’re on.” The score is even at this point, each of us having sunk two balls. There is no way I am letting him beat me.
I chalk up my cue stick and look around the table. He watches me as I walk past him. I accidentally brush past his hand, and his touch sends tingles down my spine. Concentrate. I take the shot, miss the fourteen ball, and sink one of his. Shit. He’s trying to hold back a smile. He is laughing at me, the prick.
“You know Olivia, I don’t need any help.” His serious look gives way to a wicked grin.
“I know,” I say affronted. He takes his shot, and the ball goes in. Then, he moves around to the other side of the table and takes another shot. That goes in too. Crap, he’s really good.
“Two left before the eight ball, are you sure you’re really trying?” God, he thinks I’m giving him the game. This is going to be painful. I know it. He sinks the two ball, then the five. Ugh. I look down and sigh. “Eight ball center pocket,” he announces, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He makes a shot for the eight, and it skirts wide of the pocket. He missed on purpose. That was a ridiculously easy shot. What’s his game? “Oops, I missed. Your turn.”
I try not to look at him. Those eyes will mess up my game more than they already have. I concentrate on the cue stick and chalk it up. I move in the opposite direction in fear of brushing up against him again and take a more difficult shot. Thank the Lord it went in.
The table is full of my balls, so it makes it a little easier for me to make shots. I sink three more in a row after that. I grab the bridge and try for an eleven thirteen combo. Sink both. Whew. All that’s left is the eight ball. The cue ball is on a weird angle making for a difficult shot. Not impossible, but difficult.
Do I want the ball to go in, or not? I sit there for a minute, pretending to contemplate where to take the shot, but I already know where that’s going to be. The question is do I want him to go away. I look for Brenda, but she’s still absorbed in conversation with the guys at the other end of the bar. I look at Chase. He’s not giving anything away. “Eight ball corner pocket,” I say softly. I make a decision, lean over, and take my shot.
The eight ball makes its way across the table and goes where I want it. In the corner pocket. I see Chase’s smile fading to disappointment. “I guess I’ll be going now. You won,” he says trying not to look wounded.
“No, stay,” I reply.
He looks at me puzzled. “But you won.”
“Yes, I did. I wasn’t about to let you beat me, but I don’t want you to go either.” I’m just as confused as he is, not sure where to go from here. “Do you want to go sit down?” I ask. He’s still puzzled, not comprehending that I chalked the bet. “Sit?” I ask again. I walk outside to one of the plastic neon green Adirondack chairs on the deck. During our game, it had stopped raining, but you can still see the lightning flashes over the ocean. He follows me out. I am leaning on the railing staring out over the ocean. “Beautiful isn’t it?” I whisper.
“Yes, it is,” he says with veneration. I turn toward him and notice he isn’t looking out over the water but gazing at me. I blush and stare down toward my feet. “Why do you keep doing that?” he asks. He tugs my chin so I’m looking at him. His touch resonates through my entire body. “I don’t know what happened to you to make you so full of self-doubt,” he whispers. “You’re very beautiful and shouldn’t be ashamed when someone tells you so.” I pull away and sit down on one of the chairs.
“So, you wanted to talk. Let’s talk.” I try to get the subject off me. I’m unsure of what to say. “What do you want to talk about?”
“You, Olivia,” he simply states. “I want to talk about you.” His eyes are burning with curiosity.
“Oh,” I gasp. This is not going well. I take a deep breath. “What do you want to know?”
“Whatever you want to tell me,” he says, his expression unreadable.
“Well, I grew up in Bohemia. My dad was a city cop, my mom a teacher.” Just talking about this stuff brings up memories of my dad. I miss him. Concern is etched on Chase’s face. It must be a reaction to my own. “My dad died a few years ago. Cancer.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I took it okay. My mom not so well. She has her good days and bad days. I come here to Davis every summer. My dad bought the house after he retired, before he was diagnosed.” I stare out over the water, remembering the day he told us this house was ours, really ours.
“Are you an only child?”
“Yes. What about you?” I ask. Quid pro quo.
“I was born and raised in Lattingtown. My father is a real estate entrepreneur. He invests in real estate and has buildings in Manhattan, Boston, and Miami. He recently built a hotel in Italy. My stepmother does nothing. Zero. ” His voice is filled with disdain. So he’s had an affluent upbringing. Snobby rich kid, just like I thought.
/> “Brothers or sisters?”
“I have a younger brother, Preston. He studies business at Harvard.”
“What about you, where did you go?” I already know the answer.
“I went to Harvard to study real estate law. My father went to Harvard so it was sort of assumed that we would both go as well.” Of course you did. “Preston and I both work for my dad. I’m one of about a dozen that work in the law department,” he says with pride. “Where did you go to school?”
“Stony Brook University. I was offered a full academic scholarship. I got a bachelor’s in Biology and a master’s in Marine and Atmospheric Sciences. I finished my bachelor’s in three years, thanks to AP classes in high school.” I’m rambling. I need to relax, so I take a sip of my beer to calm my nerves and continue. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do now. I work weekends bartending at Anthony’s, a restaurant near school to pay for gas and incidentals. I take the summer off.”
“It must have been nice to stay home near your friends.”
“My parents couldn’t afford to send me to where I wanted to go. Berkeley,” I sigh. I really wanted to go to Berkeley.
“Wow, so you’re smart?” he asks sounding surprised.
What did he say? “Just when I think you might not be an ass, you say something asinine.” Somewhere in my irrational head, a switch flips on. “Why couldn’t I be smart? Poor people can’t be smart? Do I look dumb? Is that why you keep stalking me, to try and get the poor dumb girl?” I am screaming at him and people start staring. My screeching finally catches Brenda’s attention. He stares at me dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open like he doesn’t know why I’m so mad. Deep down I know he didn’t mean anything by the comment, but somewhere in my fucked up brain, I take it for him calling me stupid. I turn around, walk down the steps, and back onto the walk. I hear Brenda behind me.
“What happened? You two seemed to be getting along.” She sounds disconcerted.
“Yeah, but then he opened his mouth.” I am seething. “What an arrogant, egotistical, sanctimonious prick!” I am livid. We get back to the house, and I go straight to the fridge. “How can he be so . . . so . . . arrogant!?”
Drawn to You Page 3
