“Step-brother,” I correct her. “Well, I'm gonna head upstairs. It was really nice to meet you, Dana.”
“You, too,” she replies, stepping away to join Pierce and Nate's conversation. I head into the foyer but at the last second decide not to go upstairs. I need some air. I find myself heading down the hallway and to the French doors in the wood-paneled study. They open onto the patio and I step outside with relief, closing the door behind me.
The firm breeze from the river calls me forward and I head down toward it. I circle around the swimming pool on the first level of the backyard, and then down to a grassy lawn with a lacrosse goal set up on one end. The wooden stairs down to the rocky beach are set on the right side, and it takes me a minute to find them in the dark.
As I head down the steps, I see the Potomac spread out in front of me. The water rushes hungrily by, lit only by the sparsely set houses on the cliffs surrounding it. As I step onto the shore, I can feel the rocks pressing up through my sandals, and boulders casting long, dark shadows on either side of me. This is no white-sand beach. The river runs dangerously fast after rains, and there are even white-water rapids along parts of it.
I look back at the steps behind me and then back out at the river. I feel so out of place here. Even though our old house didn't really feel like home either, I wish I were there now, stretched out on the ratty old couch, with my mom in her chair, watching something on our small TV. I don't know if I'll ever be able to feel like I belong here. I'll always feel like a guest in Pierce’s house.
I walk down closer to the water until I can feel the pebbles getting smaller underneath my feet. I don't want my shoes to get wet. I jump as a bird breaks out of a tree above me. I can just see it as it flies off, its body a moving ink blot against the dark sky.
I wish I could follow it.
I turn and walk back toward the steps, feeling as lonely as I've ever felt. I shake my head at myself as I climb the wooden stairs. My mom is happy, and I'm fortunate to live in a place like this. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, Brynn.
As I walk across the lower lawn, I look up and see my mom and Pierce's bedroom light go off. I guess they're turning in early tonight. I walk up toward the pool and freeze as I hear a moan. The lights downstairs are all off except one in the hall, and the pool's lights underneath the water. My eyes dart around and fall on two writhing bodies on a poolside lounge chair. Nate and Dana.
I stare as Nate whips off his own shirt and then Dana's. I know I should move but I don't. The blue pool lights shimmer against his back muscles as he expertly undoes Dana's bra and pulls off her pants and underwear.
Leave, you pervert! My brain commands me, but my body stays firmly glued in place, even as it throbs with desire. One of Nate's hands massages Dana's ample breasts, and the other disappears beneath her. Dana cries out immediately and I almost gasp myself, as though his hands are moving against me. I can practically feel his touch on me, his hot breath against my ear as his expert fingers move inside me…
Nate grunts and pushes against her. She struggles to contain herself as he thrusts slowly in and out of her. Oh my god—what am I doing!? I step back with a jolt as though I'm breaking out of a trance and almost trip over the hydrangea bush next to me in my hurry to get away. I run as quickly and quietly as I can around the side of the house and to the front. I reach the front door and pray that Nate is going to lock up later. I feel the doorknob turn and push the door open in relief. I hurry up the curving staircase and down the hall into my room, kicking off my sandals before hurling myself onto my bed and burying my head in the pillows.
I can feel my cheeks burning with mortification over what I just witnessed and the uncontrollable desire I felt. I've had crushes before, but none like my obsession with Nate. And even after finally meeting him, only to have him tease me and push my buttons, I still feel so physically drawn to him.
I pull my face out of the pillow and crawl to the nightstand, pulling my dog-eared copy of Lady Chatterley's Lover out of the top drawer. Just as I'm opening it to the folded-over page, there's a quiet knock at my door. I toss my book on the bed and walk to it, hoping and praying it’s not Nate.
I almost jump as I pull open the door and Nate's face appears, shrouded in the darkness of the hallway. He leans forward, leaning his forearm on the doorjamb as I step back nervously. His wavy hair looks particularly unruly, and his lips are curved in a slight smile.
“Technically speaking, does a Peeping Tom have to be outside, looking inside? Or does the term still apply if both, or all three, parties are outdoors?” he asks, calmly, tilting his chin up slightly as he considers me.