The Pool Boy

Earlier today I said that I didn’t need any entanglements. I sure fucked that one up. I am very, very entangled.

7

Vera

Finally! Some good news.

I took full advantage of my joblessness this morning and slept in. I’m glad I did, because while I was sleeping I got an email from the Harrison Foundation—the place I applied to last night. They read my resume overnight, loved it, and want an interview the day after tomorrow! I dance around my room like there are clouds under my feet. The weightlessness is freeing and I feel like I can conquer the world. This is a far better morning than yesterday.

I read the email again. They want me to come interview with them, and if everything goes well they’ll show me one of their work sites. I email them back, confirming that I would love—love love love—to meet with them. I know I shouldn’t get my hopes up, but screw it. Hope is awesome. Hopefully this will be exactly what I need to shove all my father’s ‘I-told-you-so’s back in his face.

I spend some time digging into the Harrison Foundation, and I like what I find. They do have high-end clients, but they also specialize in helping displaced families build homes. That’s so up my alley it’s not even funny. I can see myself working for them so clearly, the feeling settling in my chest. I want that.

I suddenly start to get ideas. I pin a new piece of paper to my drafting table and begin to sketch. It’s rare that it happens like this, where I just sit and sketch without thinking endlessly first. Architecture doesn’t come easily to me, so I know when moments like this happen they have to be taken advantage of. My hands don’t stop. I’m not just drawing things for ELIH, but everything from new archways to stairways. Whatever pops into my head is what I put down. I do work on several variations of the ELIH house, changing and perfecting. I think I like the new version even better than the one I had been working with.

My stomach growls when I come out of my haze of inspiration. I look at the clock and am absolutely shocked to see that it’s three o’clock in the afternoon. Wow. No wonder I’m hungry. I put on clothes that aren’t pajamas. If either of my parents sees me in pajamas at this time of the day there will be hell to pay.

Thankfully no one is in the kitchen as I rummage around in the fridge and make myself a sandwich. My mother would probably prefer I called one of the staff to do it for me—or better yet, make me an actual gourmet meal—but I’m perfectly capable of feeding myself. A flash of blue catches my eye and my stomach drops through the floor. James is outside on the patio, just starting to skim the pool.

My good news and my frenzy kept me from thinking about him, but everything floods through me now. Desire is the first thing that I feel, and then resolve. I have an interview coming up, so now I have even more reason to say no to more sex. But, my mind whispers, there’s no harm in just talking. So before I know it I’m carrying my plate out to the patio and the table. James is facing away from me, and I sit down at the table without saying anything. I’ll wait for him to notice me while I watch his fantastic ass. If I’m not allowed to touch him anymore, I’m definitely not keeping myself from looking.

I set my drink down on the table and the noise catches his attention. As soon as he sees me his face breaks into what might be the biggest smile I’ve ever seen. “Hey there.”

“Hi.”

“I hoped I would see you earlier,” he says, fishing out some leaves.

I take a bite of my sandwich, and speak through it. It’s totally unladylike. I’m hungry enough that I don’t care. “I was working—I got this burst of inspiration, and I kind of forgot to eat.”

He laughs. “Well I think we can agree that that’s important.”

There’s a moment of silence as I eat and he works his way around the edge of the pool. When he’s closer to me he says, “I thought about you last night.”

“Really?” I say casually, not sure if he means that he thought about me, or he thought about me. Suddenly he strips out of his shirt, and I’m not sure if I’m breathing.

“Yes,” he says with equal casualness. “Twice, actually.”

Oh god. An image pops into my mind of James touching himself, my name on his lips as he spills over. I feel myself blush, and have to take a sip of my water to compose myself. Then he asks, “Did you think about me, too?” and I try very hard not to choke.

My mother chooses that moment to poke her head out of the patio door. “Vera.”

“Yes?” I say, trying to breathe.

“Your father has clients coming over for dinner. They’ll be here at six. Please make sure you look nice.”

I roll my eyes.

“And make sure you don’t do that. It’s not polite.”

“Yeah, I know.”

She looks between me and James—who has gone back to cleaning the pool—and gives me a long stare. I know that look; it’s a look that says ‘don’t you dare.’ I pointedly roll my eyes at her again, and she shakes her head and goes back inside. She would come outside right at that moment.

James is looking at me again, and I realize that I have to tell him. I have to, but I don’t want to. Neither of us speak though, aware that my mother is probably observing us. I finish my sandwich. I finish my water. Now I’m just sitting and watching him work.

Okay fine, I’m looking at his body. I am the utter cliché. I’m looking at my pretty pool boy, and I’ve already fucked him.

James puts down the skimmer. “Miss Caldwell, would you be so kind as to accompany me to your garden? I have a question about its care I’d like to ask you.”

What? He knows that I don’t want him to take care of my garden. I raise an eyebrow at him, but say, “Sure.”

He heads away from the patio and I follow him, going around the pool and toward my garden. I turn the corner, but I don’t see James. He steps out from behind the garden shed and catches my hand, pulling me to him. One moment I’m in his arms, the next I’m against the wall of the shed and he is kissing me.

It’s like a shot of adrenaline straight to the chest. My heart is pounding, my body saying yes yes yes. The part of my brain that’s telling me that we can’t, that we should stop, is being drowned out by the feeling of his lips and the caress of his tongue.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he confesses, before kissing me again.

“Me either,” I manage.

His fingers are playing with the hem of my shirt, teasing my skin underneath and slowly moving upward. If he keeps going I might very well get my fantasy of him and me inside my garden. But…no.

I place my hands on his chest, pushing gently. “James, we can’t do this.”

“Don’t worry,” he says, that devilish grin spreading across his face, “We’re not going to get caught.”

He leans in to kiss me again and I stop him. “I’m sorry. We really can’t.”

All the playfulness wipes from his face and he takes a step back. “Why?”

“It’s a really bad time for me…” I say, hedging around the reason. “Yesterday was amazing. I just can’t do it again.”

A little laugh escapes him, but there’s an edge to it. “I didn’t think you were one of those girls.”

“What girls?” I ask, my voice coming out harsher than I meant it to.

He shrugs. “A thrill seeker.”

“What?” I’m confused, and defensive. “I don’t under—” I stop as I look at him, the reality of what he’s saying hitting me. “Are you kidding me? You think the reason we have to stop is that I wanted to slum it with you and then dump you?”

He doesn’t say anything, looking at the ground. Anger pours into me, freeing me of any of my restraint. “If it weren’t that I have everything—everything—to lose in the next week, I’d be fucking your brains out right now. But I can’t, because if we are caught, then my father will lose his shit. He’ll go back on his deal with me. He’ll destroy my career before it starts!”

“Vera—” he starts, but I don’t let him finish.

“

He’ll force me to do the one thing I will never want to do which is work for him. Because his daughter having sex with the pool guy could get out and damage his reputation—and his business—and you never, ever damage the business. It doesn’t matter what I want, or that I love designing houses for families who deserve them but can’t afford them. It doesn’t matter that I have no interest in helping millionaires looking for their fifth house. My father will own me.”

I know that my voice is louder than it should be, but I can’t stop. “I don’t know what made you think I was the kind of girl who would do that to someone. If you really think that’s who I am then you can fuck off right now. I don’t just go around screwing people. I don’t know why I’m so attracted to you, but I am, and yesterday was amazing and it was incredibly difficult for me to tell you to stop, but we have to.” I’m a bit out of breath now. “In short, that is why I am not currently fucking you in the garden.”

James is staring at me now, mouth open in shock. “Wow,” he says.

“Yeah.”

He reaches out like he’s going to touch me, then thinks better of it. “That was a terrible thing for me to say.”

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t,” he says quickly.

“There must be a reason why that’s the first thing that came to your mind.”

James shakes his head. “I’ve never slept with anyone on a job before, but—”

“Someone tried?”

He nods. “And she made it clear why.”

I don’t know what to say to that. It’s terrible that that happened, but what he said was terrible too.

“I apologize, Vera. It wasn’t fair for me to assume that. And you obviously don’t owe me anything.” He slides his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t expect you to excuse that I said it, but I am sorry.”

“We don’t know each other that well yet,” I say, “so we’ll make an agreement here. No assumptions. Nothing good comes from them.”

“You’re right, and I can agree to that.”

“Then I accept your apology,” I say.

“That was a lot of information you just gave me,” James says. “And I get it. I do.”

“Thanks.”

“And I can wait.”

Did I hear that right? “What?”