Stepbrother Untouchable(17)

“Right.”

I grab a glass from the cabinet and pour him some water from the faucet. “Here, you felt dizzy because you’re dehydrated.”

“Thanks,” he says. He reaches for the glass with his left hand, which is closer, and then pauses and takes it awkwardly with his right.

“What was that?” I ask, frowning.

“What?”

“Let me see your left arm,” I reply, reaching for him, but he pulls back.

“No, no, it's nothing.”

“What is?”

“My shoulder. It's just a little tendonitis.”

“Oh really? Did a doctor tell you that?”

“Not exactly.”

“WebMD?” I ask, raising my eyebrows. He shrugs, then winces. “You need to take better care of yourself. You can't keep pushing yourself so hard.” He frowns, and doesn't respond. “Well, at least take some Tylenol for the pain,” I add as I pour two pills into my hand and begin to repack the first aid kit with the other.

“That's OK.”

I tilt my head at him. “Pain isn't going to make you heal any faster,” I point out.

“Fine,” he says with a little smile. I blush as his fingertips scrape my palm as he takes the pills.

“Well. I think I'm going back to bed. I'm supposed to check out some of the Smithsonian museums later, so…” I trail off, feeling awkward now.

“OK, see you later,” he says, turning toward the back door. I pause for a moment, then head back toward the staircase. Just like that, the one real conversation that my stepbrother and I have ever had is over. I could practically feel him closing back up at the end there. I climb the steps and shut my bedroom door behind me. I feel more confused now than ever about our relationship. I didn't think it could get any weirder after that peep show I gave him, but somehow this candid glimpse of him makes things even more complicated.

I close my eyes and try to fall back to sleep, but when my alarm goes off at ten, I'm still wide awake.





CHAPTER NINE





The humidity is really starting to thicken by the middle of June, and it’s a wonder that I haven’t taken advantage of our pool yet. The only swimsuit I have is an old athletic one-piece, and I pull it on reluctantly in my bedroom. My mom keeps asking me if I want to go shopping, but I haven't taken her up on it yet. All her new clothes look wonderful but I think I'd feel uncomfortable spending so much money on myself.

I head down the hallway and almost bump into Nate as he leaves his bedroom. I reflexively cross my hands over my chest, even though I know he's seen me in less.

“Hey,” I say.

“Hey,” he replies. It's the same conversation we've had ever since I saw him in the kitchen that morning. We quickly slipped into polite, but formal, interactions with each other afterward. If I had to choose between this and the mind games we started out with, I might choose the mind games.

The doorbell rings and I start to move past him to answer it.

“It's OK I’ll get it. It's my friend Jackson.” He walks down the hallway toward the stairs.

I follow after him, and turn toward the backyard once we're in the foyer. I hear his friend walk in just as I exit the French doors. There's a chest set against the house with the outdoor towels in it, so I grab one and set it on a chair.

The area around the pool it is paved with light stones before it turns into grass, and lounge chairs and a table with an umbrella are carefully set around it. I turn to the pool and step gingerly onto the first step in the shallow end. It's nice—warm, but still refreshing in the hot summer day. I step down the rest of the way until the water circles around my stomach, and then dive forward. I swim to the other end, where the water gets darker and deeper, then push off and glide onto my back. I open my eyes as I push the water past me with my hands and look up toward the house rising against the sun on my left.

A flash of movement in the second floor window grabs my attention. There's a figure moving there, pulling a curtain aside. At first I think it's Nate—it's his room, I think—but then I catch a glimpse of blonde hair. Must be his friend Jackson. I turn onto my stomach and dive back under the water. I want Nate to be the one watching me.

I was never much into sports, but I’ve always wondered if I'd be any good at them. I push harder for the last couple laps and finally pull my head up at the shallow end, gasping for breath. I take the steps back out of the pool and walk around to my towel and dry off my hair, then drape it onto the chair and lay down on it. I can feel the suit clinging to my torso, and water sitting in my belly button. I hear the door to the house open behind me and shield my eyes from the sun as I turn around to see who it is.