Miles

I've been pacing around the house for an hour, waiting for Rachel to get here. She'd never been to my house; in fact, I don't remember the last time anyone besides Joseph had come over.

Joseph had texted me earlier, asking me why I hadn't been sitting with them at lunch. I didn't want to delve into my actual feelings with him, so I just gave some macho answer to shut him up.

Anxiety building in my stomach, I looked around. I wasn't nervous because I was ashamed of my house or anything...it was the opposite.

My house was ostentatious (SAT vocab word). It's red brick, three stories, seven bedrooms and four bathrooms—I am an only child and always have been, so there is no reason for a house this big...except to show off. We have a huge spiral staircase, an in-ground pool with a waterfall, a tennis court, and a four-car garage. It was embarrassing to have people over because people ogled over it so much.

My dad is the CEO of a company he built from the ground up, Jefferson Properties. He owns like 30 ridiculously huge high-rise condominiums in Panama City Beach and Destin. His company is the biggest in the Florida panhandle, and in the top five in the entire state. For all the things that my dad is or isn't, he is an excellent businessman—in fact, if he were as good of a father as he is an entrepreneur, my life would've been different. Because of his job, though, he gets stressed so easily, and believe me, I get it. But he never learned to deal with stress and anger, so I always ended up being the one he'd take it out on. Before my mom died, he'd never hit me, just yell and berate me a lot. But when she died...I don't know, it was like a switch flipped inside him and he lost his humanity, not to mention whatever love he held for me.

The doorbell interrupted my thoughts. I inhaled and made my way to the door, swinging it open wide.

Rachel was on the doorstep, her eyes starry with admiration. "Why didn't you tell me I was coming to Buckingham Palace? I would've dressed a little better!" she joked, gesturing at her outfit—cut off jean shorts and a plain white tank top that hugged every curve.

In one motion, I stepped toward her, wrapped my arm around her waist and pulled her flush against me. "You're perfect," I murmured into her ear.

She put put a hand on my chest, and I felt goosebumps break out all over my body. I looked down at her, our faces inches apart.

Buzz buzz.

My fucking phone. We broke apart, and I gave her a silent apology, looking at it. It was my dad. I opened the door wider behind me and waved her inside. Closing the door behind me, I pulled out my phone.

I won't be home tonight. Staying in Tampa—conference continuing tomorrow. Don't forget to lock up and set the alarm.

My heart pounded in my chest. My dad wouldn't be home, which meant Rachel and I have the house to ourselves for the rest of the day and night.

Okay, dad. I won't forget. Be safe.

K.

No "bye," no "have a good day," definitely no "love you, son."

"What was that about?" Rachel asked.

I tossed my phone onto the couch. "Just my dad...he won't be home tonight," I said nonchalantly, offering her a seat on our leather sectional.

She sat down and crossed one leg underneath her butt. "Really," she said, raising one eyebrow.

"Yeah, he has to stay in Tampa for some conference," I said, shrugging.

She nodded. "All right..." she said. I couldn't help but notice that the bare skin on her chest covered in crimson blotches...something I've noticed that happens to her when she gets nervous. She bent over and pulled her AP Euro notebook out. "Go get your flashcards and we'll study," she ordered.

I stood up and saluted her, retreating to my room to get my binder.

We studied flashcards for hours, and by the time the grandfather clock struck 3:00 pm, Rachel's legs had wound up stretched across my lap, her back against the armrest.

I tossed my flashcards down and put my hands on her calves. "I need a break. Want a tour of the house?"

She grinned. "Yes, Prince William, show me your palace," she teased.

I pushed her legs off my lap and she giggled. I offered my hand, and she took it, groaning a little as she got off the sofa. "How long have we been sitting there?"

"Three hours," I said, leading her to the foyer. "We'll start upstairs."

I led her up the spiral staircase and showed her all the bedrooms, including my dad's master suite. "This is beautiful," she breathed.

"Thanks...it's nice, but I wish I had happier memories here," I confessed.

She put her arm on the front of my bicep and squeezed. "I know."

I swallowed past the lump in my throat. "Let's go down the back stairwell and we'll end up in the kitchen."

I showed her the downstairs, and out of nowhere, she squealed.

"What?! Are you okay?" I turned to her in alarm.

"You have a pool!?" she exclaimed.

I let my breath out in a whoosh. "Yes, we have a pool."

"Oh my gosh, it's beautiful. I've always wanted an in-ground pool...but we don't have the yard for it." 

I grinned. "Do you have a bathing suit in your car?"

She clasped her hands in front of her chest—an adorable habit of hers. "Yes!" she cried, bouncing on her tiptoes.

"Go get it, and we'll take a swim."

She squealed again and ran out the door to her car.

Rachel

When I got outside, I took a little longer than necessary digging through the trunk of the Impala. Butterflies had overrun my stomach...mammoth sized.

Miles' dad wouldn't be home. We'd almost kissed twice, and now we were going swimming.

I lifted my bathing suit out of my beach bag and held it up in front of my face.

My string bikini.

Of course.

It couldn't have been my one piece or tankini. I cursed Brooke for making me wear this when we went to the beach last time.

I took a deep breath and slammed the trunk. Here we go, I thought as I walked back toward the house.

"Hey, Miles," I called.

"Yeah?" I heard his voice coming from the direction of the bathroom.

"Do you have a towel I can borrow?"

"Yeah, just go upstairs to my bedroom. You can change up there and you'll find towels in my bathroom closet," he called, his voice muffled.

"Okay!" I jogged up the stairs and found my way back to Miles' bedroom, closing the door with a click behind me.

I stripped my clothes off, leaving my shorts, tank top, bra, and undies on his bed. I thought twice and put my underclothes between my shirt and shorts so they were at least sort of hidden. At least I'd worn my matching lace set today.

I pulled the electric blue bikini on and inspected myself in the mirror.

My stomach was not flat, and my hips had grown curvier over the last year. I moved to the bikini top next, adjusting the tie at my neck. I stuck out my bottom lip in approval as I looked at my chest. Those had grown over the last couple years too. My hair was down and wavy, and when I felt confident that I at least looked presentable, I pulled a huge towel from the closet and wrapped it all the way around my body.

When I made my way back to the kitchen, Miles was standing by the back door, scrolling through his phone.

Holy shit, I thought.

Miles was shirtless, red swim trunks hanging low on his hips, showing off that famous "V" I had heard so much about from Brooke. He had a white towel slung over one shoulder. 

"Ready?" he asked.

I cleared my throat. "Yes!" I chirped.

He led the way to the pool and tossed the towel onto a chair.

"Is it heated?" I asked. I was shivering—but not because I was cold.

"Right now it is, yeah. Don't worry, it's nice," he assured me, dipping a toe in. He jerked his chin toward the pool. "You ready?" he asked amusedly.

"Me?" Duh, you, you idiot. "Oh, yeah, yeah," I stammered, turning around toward the house to hide my mortification. I took a deep breath and unwrapped the towel, dropping it to the lawn chair.

I turned, pretending to be ready for whatever reaction I was going to get.

Miles was standing at the edge of the pool. He had frozen and was just gaping at me.

I looked down self-consciously. "What? What's wrong?"

Miles shook his head. "Nothing. Ab-so-lute-ly nothing," he uttered.

I grinned, feeling a little more confident. I sauntered toward him, never breaking eye contact. He looked down at me, his chest rising and falling a little faster than before. I lifted my index finger and ran my fingernail down the middle of his chest. He inhaled and leaned toward me.

I leaned into him...and shoved him into the pool.

He landed with a spectacular splash, and I started laughing. "Oh my God, Rachel," he said as he burst out of the water, sweeping his hair back off his forehead.

I dissolved into giggles.

"You better run, girl!" he yelled, swimming toward the stairs.

"Ahh!" I shrieked, scampering around toward the other side of the pool.

But I somehow forgot that Miles was the star of the baseball team because he caught me in less than 15 seconds, grabbing me and throwing us both into the water.

I went under and came up, flipping my hair behind me in my best Ariel impression.

"Gotcha," he said, swimming toward me.

"Yeah yeah, I got you first, though," I retorted.

We floated around the pool in silence for a few minutes until I got the courage to ask him the question that had been floating in my mind for days.

"Miles?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you like me?" I whispered, staring at the afternoon sky.

He didn't answer right away; instead, I felt him moving toward me, the water swirling around my skin.

I felt his hands under my body, and he put his hands on the small of my back, pulling me into a standing position in front of him. His hands rested on my hips as his blue eyes searched mine. I felt the spray of the waterfall against my shoulders.

"Why do I like you?" he repeated. "Well, where to start?" he asked, looking up in mock concentration. "You're smart, and funny," he said, kissing the side of my head. "You're kind," he continued, kissing my forehead. "You're beautiful," he whispered, kissing my neck right under my ear. I swallowed, my heart threatening to just stop working. He lifted his face from my neck and rested his forehead against mine. "But more than that?" he murmured, "You make me want to be a better man."

My breath caught in my throat, and he put his hands on both of my cheeks. I put one hand on the back of his neck and another on his waist. This time, nothing stopped him.

His lips brushed mine, softly at first, and the sparks between us set my soul on fire. I moved my lips with his and pulled him toward me, through the waterfall. 

I put both hands around his neck and wrapped my legs around his waist. He put his hands under my backside and leaned me against the rock wall.

He slid his tongue along my teeth, and I parted my lips to allow him entrance. I moaned against his mouth, and he slid his hands up and down my back.

When we came up for air, we were both breathing fast, our lips red and swollen.

"Damn," he breathed.

"You can say that again," I muttered.

"Daaaaaamn," he repeated, dragging out the vowel.

I giggled, and he pushed a wet strand of hair from out of my eyes.

"Did that answer your question?"

"I think I may need a review session."

"No problem, Ms. Cross," he said with mock seriousness, leaning in to kiss me again.