by Sara Cate
All of a sudden, I feel her eyes on me, and the pool house becomes torturously silent. With nothing except for my breath, I stare at her while she stares right back. I almost lift my hand to wave, to somehow acknowledge that we can see each other, but then she reaches down and pulls her dress over her head, leaving her in nothing but her simple bikini.
My lips part as I watch her. She looks so fucking lonely in that window, as if she is desperate to be watched. So hungry for attention that she would find the only eyes she can find and latch onto them like a lifeline. Some crazy part of my brain wants to go to her, talk to her, hold her, kiss her to keep her from being so goddamn alone. Or maybe to make myself feel it.
But then she reaches behind her back, her eyes still on me in my lit pool house.
“No,” I whisper as if she could hear me—but it doesn’t stop what I know will happen. Her barely there bathing suit drops to the floor, and I can’t move. There she is, like a painting etched onto the wall of her house, in nothing but a tiny pair of bikini bottoms. Her tits are bare, small mounds on her petite chest, and even from this distance, I can see that her nipples are puckered, hard and cold from the exposure to the air.
“What the fuck is she doing?” I say to absolutely no one, but I don’t look away. I beg her to move away from the window. Put on some clothes. Stop letting me look at her when I could easily just stop looking at her. I want to scream at her.
I look because I want to look. I want to memorize it. Not just the bare tits. I could see tits any day, but this vision of her. The sad look on her face, the innocent sexuality of her display, of what I can only assume is her own way of flirting with me. She wants me to look. And maybe she wants me to do more than look.
What kind of man would I be?
She probably stands in the window for less than ten seconds, but every moment that I stare at her naked breasts feels like a hundred seconds. It is blissfully excruciating, but finally, she steps away from the window and walks towards her en-suite bathroom, leaving me standing breathless and reeling, alone in my pool house.
I try to go back to what I was doing, finishing the backsplash, cleaning up my mess, calling someone to come over and take away the raging hard-on in my pants, but I can’t function now.
Instead, I rush into my house and reach for the expensive brand bourbon in my cabinet. Pouring myself two fingers full, I gulp it down and try to think about anything other than the curve of her hips and the tan line that ran like a V across her chest. The pale skin of her tits and the pink circles around her nipples. I try not to think about running my tongue along the peak, and down to her belly.
Before I know it, I’m squeezing my cock in my hands, gripping it tight and stroking it to my imagination and the image she left me with. I feel like a fucking monster as I come in my own hand just thinking about her legs around my hips.
Fucking the teenager I paid to paint my pool house.
“What the fuck,” I mutter into my glass.
I’ve lost my goddamn mind.
Sunny
What the fuck was I thinking?
That’s the first thought that pop into my head the next morning. And honestly, I don’t know. I was feeling sexy, exposed, ready for him to see me. So, I stood in my window topless, knowing the whole time that he could see me. I had no shame.
And the feeling was...hot. I wanted to touch myself in that window, knowing he was watching. I was dying for him to see me as something more than a teenager. I wanted him to see the woman there, aching to be seen and touched.
The next morning, I gathered my stuff and headed over before I even ate breakfast. The house was quiet when I left, and I figured my mom and sister were already gone. Their rooms were empty, and on occasion they would meet friends at the country club for brunch or go shopping at the outlets without me because in their eyes I was still a kid. The kid old enough to stay home alone but not old enough to drink in public so might as well leave her at home.
When I reach Alexander’s pool house, it’s quiet. He’s still asleep. I pull out my key that he gave me and unlock the door. He’s nowhere in sight while I start on the grid. This is the part I was most nervous about. If I screw this up, I screw the whole thing up. So, I take my time as I measure out the lines and draw them with care. I manage to connect my phone to his Bluetooth speaker and keep the music blaring while I work.
I love this work. It’s mindless, relaxing. Thoughts about my mother, my dad, my ever-growing need to get the fuck out of my house clear my head, leaving room to fantasize about my new neighbor. Thinking about Alexander has become my new obsession. But not just him. This awakening he’s caused in me has stirred feelings about any man. About how I would feel when the time was right. About how badly I want the time to be right now.
The craving to lose myself in another person and explore these new urges is overwhelming. It’s what I thought about as I fell asleep, when I woke up, and sometimes in the middle of the night when all I could do to get back to sleep was rub myself raw until my body clenched in ecstasy, and I could relax.
Suddenly, a hand gripped my upper arm, tearing me away from the wall.
“What is wrong with you?” he asks as I fly against his body and stare up at his face contorted in anger. I didn’t hear Alexander come in, but now he has me so close to his sweaty body that I couldn’t think a rational thought if I tried.
“Wh-what?” I stutter.
“Standing in the window naked, Sunny. Anyone could have seen you,” he says through his gritted teeth. I can feel his breath on my face and notice the pause in his anger when his eyes meet my lips.
“I’m sorry,” I mumble.
Letting go of my arm, he lets out a frustrated sigh. “I’m not mad at you, Sunny. You just...have to be careful. You can’t let guys see you like that.” He paces away a moment before turning back toward me, his eyes wild and desperate.
He must have just gone for a run or something because he’s shirtless and red in the face. I stand motionless while his wild eyes roam over my face, clearly deliberating on what he should say next.
Silently, he steps closer, closing the distance. “I just want to keep you safe, Sunny. Do you understand?”
My breath comes out ragged. “Why? You barely know me.”
Pain settles behind his eyes, causing his shoulders to sag. “Who keeps you safe?”
I don’t answer, but something stings in my throat.
“A beautiful girl like you. People...men...would take advantage of you. Hurt you, Sunny. People are monsters, and I...like you. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
Something in his resolve wavers.
“Are you okay? I didn’t mean to scare you.”
I nod, unable to peel my eyes away from his lips.
“Is that okay? If I...take care of you?”
My heart hammers behind my ribcage, causing my stomach to rattle and my breathing to falter. I want to memorize the sound of those words coming out of his mouth. The way he says you and means me. The way he looks in my eyes while he says it. The way I matter to him. If this feeling was a color, I would want to paint it all over my skin, let it seep into my pores, making it a permanent part of me.
“Yes,” I breathe, my voice coming out higher than I intended.
“Good.” He steps away and looks at the wall, but I can tell he’s unsettled. “Sunny,” he whispers.
“Yeah?”
“Cadence’s friends. They haven’t...tried anything with you, have they?” His lips flatten into a thin line.
“Last summer, one of them did, but I didn’t let him. I haven’t let anyone…”
I watch his features relax. He’s relieved. “Good. If you ever need to get out of there, you come here, okay?”
“Okay,” I breathe.
It’s a long, tense moment before he steps closer and slings an arm over my shoulder. I breathe in this feeling of being secure, safe, comforted.
“How long will the mural take?” he asks, looking up at the grid in pl
ace on the wall.
“I don’t know.”
With both of us looking up at the wall, he lets out a laugh, letting his back shake as he squeezes my body closer.
Something catches my eye across the yard. Someone is in my yard...a man.
My heart skids to a stop. With his sable black hair combed back and his crisp white button-up shirt, I spot my dad walking across the patio, tearing through the outdoor fridge behind the bar.
I don’t say a word to Alexander as I tear across the room and out the door. I cross the yard in just a few steps as I holler for my dad.
“Dad!”
He glances up, confused as I run through the hedges and onto the patio.
“Where’s your mother?” he asks without any other greeting.
“I don’t know.”
“I need the keys to the boat, and I know she fucking lost them somewhere.” He rifles through the bar, dumping out buckets filled with bottle caps and wine corks. “She used to put her keys in the freezer when she was drunk.”
“How long are you staying?” I ask, trying to steal a moment of his attention.
“I’m not, Sunny. I have to find those keys and get out before she comes back. I don’t want to deal with your mother right now.”
“I can help,” I chirp as I walk inside and start pouring through drawers and baskets with random items.
“Who the fuck is that?” my dad asks, following me inside.
“Who?”
“The guy in the yard. You were just over there.”
I glance out the window to see Alexander standing by his pool with his hands in his pockets, watching us from his yard. Now that we are inside, he can’t quite see me, but it doesn’t stop his vigilant observation.
“That’s Alexander Caldwell.”
My father seems to ignore me as he keeps looking for the keys.
“He’s paying me to paint a mural in his pool house. Isn’t that awesome?”
Still, no answer, and as I watch him tear through the house like he still lived there. I have to swallow down the pain of still feeling so ignored, like I am still waiting for him to call me back even though he is standing right here.
“Can I come with you?” I ask, not entirely sold on the idea, but I’m eager to see his reaction. Leaving home is what I want more than anything, and I thought I wanted to go with him, but I can still see Alexander watching from the yard, and I already hate the idea of leaving him.
He wants to take care of me.
“Come with me? What do you mean?”
“Can I come stay with you? I don’t want to be here with Mom anymore.”
He freezes, his eyes softening as he looks at me like he just noticed my presence. “Sunny…”
“It’s fine,” I mumble, turning back to the drawer I was looking through.
“I’m in a small apartment with Ilsa. It’s just not a good time.” He steps forward, but I keep my eyes down. I can’t bear to see the pity in his expression. His fake fucking sympathy and regret. I am a footnote on my father’s itinerary: if possible, show kindness to the daughter you just abandoned with her abusive mother.
“Besides, Sun. You’re nineteen years old. Get a job and move out if that’s what you want to do.”
“I said it’s fine,” I bite back.
He turns away with a huff and runs upstairs to continue searching. As if being nineteen was all I needed to move out. Who is going to give me a lease? There are no jobs out there that would pay me enough. I hate him for saying that.
I hear the jingle of keys from the drawer just before I closed it. I pull it farther back and find the three keys attached to a plastic keychain from our trip to the Keyes, which my mother thought was hilarious and ironic.
My father’s footsteps retreat down the stairs, and I hold the keys in my hand, ready to show him I found what he wanted. I was ready for his approval. Instead, I think about the countless messages I left that went unanswered, and I let that anger stew as I walk the keys to the garage and drop them in the garbage can.
Dad leaves in an angry huff about fifteen minutes later. He is too annoyed to give me a hug, and I watch him leave from the living room window.
Turning back toward the kitchen, I try to swallow down the sting piercing the back of my throat. I won’t cry for him. He never once cried for me. But I let myself imagine him pulling back into the driveway, walking through the door, engulfing me in his arms and whispering his apology in my ear. I let myself feel it in my mind, and then I make myself drown in the absence of it. A cruel trick I do to myself when I feel the self-pity rise to the top.
Alexander isn’t standing in the yard anymore, but I notice movement inside his house through the large windows next to his dining room. He’s in his kitchen, and I know I can walk over and suffocate all of this pain with the warmth of his eyes on me.
Instead, I walk upstairs and climb into bed with my misery. Instead of sleeping, I pull a green pen from my bag and draw the boat keys on my inner arm so that I will remember to think about how miserable my dad was at the exact moment when he realized he couldn’t take his new girlfriend on the water.
Alexander
Sunny didn’t come back to the pool house, and after I made lunch, I heard commotion coming from her backyard. No surprise, Cadence was out there with her little toolbag boyfriends getting drunk and acting like dickheads.
Fuck, I could write a manifesto on the importance of parental boundaries based on this family alone, but it wouldn’t change a thing.
From my little interaction with them, I can tell the girls were raised by an emotionally absent father and an alcoholic mom in denial of her own age. And now look at them. Cadence strikes me as the kind of girl who prefers to learn shit the hard way. Reckless and carefree, that girl has built up so much momentum partying, getting drunk, and having sex that she couldn’t stop now.
I watch from the window of my kitchen as she starts making out with the blonde kid, even though I know I saw her with the other during the party.
Sunny hasn’t shown her face outside since her dad left, and I can’t focus on the one box I was supposed to be unpacking because all I keep seeing is that poor kid’s face when her dad couldn’t even greet her with a fucking hug.
My family wasn’t perfect by any means, but at least my dad had the good decency to give me attention, and there was no doubt in my head that the guy loved me. Cadence is too busy filling the void of daddy’s love by filling other things, and Sunny is...well I don’t know. The girl barely speaks. She never leaves her house but seems pretty fucking eager to move out. So how the hell is she going to do that if she’s too busy waiting for him to come home?
I step outside, knowing that the moment I do, Cadence will see me and invite me over. Which is exactly what I want.
Her eyes light up when she watches me step onto the patio. Well they light up as much as they can seeing as how she’s tanked.
“Come swimming, Alexander Caldwell,” she croons, hanging her tits forward as she climbs out of the pool. Her tiny white bikini is about six shades lighter than her tan burnt-red skin, but she stumbles as she tries to walk down to the grass. One of the guys catches her by the arm and pushes her back in the pool.
I glance up to the window as I walk slowly toward their yard. Sunny’s face appears behind the glass, those round blue eyes reflected by the setting sun, and I stop just outside the patio, staring up at her.
Calling her down without speaking a word.
She disappears from the window, and when she reappears through the sliding glass door, the red skin around her eyes tells me she’s been crying.
I was a dick to her this morning about the window thing. Now, after seeing her practically beg her dad for attention, I feel like an asshole about it.
Cadence slides over toward me, and I steady her with a hand under her elbow. The blond kid, Fischer, creeps toward Sunny.
For a second, he looks genuine as he gives her a warm hug and leans in to ask her a question. She nods an
d returns a warm smile to him. Normally, that kid is a little dick, so it makes me feel a little better to see him being real with her.
This is exactly what she needs, friends and support and people who care about her. I should go and let her be with kids her own age. Fuck, I shouldn’t even be over here, but Cadence wraps her arms around my waist and whispers in my ear.
“Wanna go inside and get high?”
I don’t answer her. My eyes are still glued on Sunny. Now, Fischer isn’t just hugging her for comfort. He’s touching the exposed flesh on her stomach. She swats at him, but he teases her anyway. Walking towards the pool, I see the look in his eye. His gaze is laser-focused on her, like she’s his next meal. It predatory, and it makes me feel very fucking uneasy.
“Alexander…” Cadence drawls in my ear. I step away, looking directly at Sunny.
“You left all your stuff in the pool house, Sunny,” I bark, my voice low and authoritative. Her eyes are round like saucers, and she stares at me confused. “Please go clean it up.”
Sunny doesn’t move, but I notice the way her chest heaves a little faster. She’s searching my features, and I hope she can see that I’m just trying to get her out of there. Whether she sees it or not, I don’t want her sticking around this crowd when they’re already so far gone.
Cadence sways as she watches me, too drunk to look genuinely confused, but silent enough to tell me I threw her off.
After another long awkward moment, Sunny stomps away from Fischer and past me. I wish she would have put up a fight. I would like to see the girl stick up for herself, but she just grits her teeth and runs across the yard.
Following her to the pool house, I listen to the murmurs between the partiers in the pool, but they all die away when I shut the door, closing in Sunny and me. I hear her sniffles as she starts packing up her supplies.
I should explain myself. Apologize for acting like a jerk in front of her friends. But I see her standing there, and it grates on my nerves that she puts up with it. It makes me want to poke her more, see how far I can push before she pushes back.