The Pool Boy(32)

There’s a brush of skin on the back of my hand as James gently takes it in his. He doesn’t say anything, but even that small gesture is enough for me. He’s taking me home. To his home.

I ignore the way my stomach drops into a nervous free fall. I know it shouldn’t feel like such a big thing. Plenty of people who date see each other’s houses right from the start. But still, it feels like a big thing. I feel my pulse rise, and I get more nervous about this. Do I want it to be a big thing? Is it possible for something to grow between two people so quickly? I guess it doesn’t matter if it’s possible—it happened—how, I’m not sure…it was just supposed to be sex…

I squeeze his hand and feel him squeeze back. The warm feeling returns to the pit of my stomach, and I’m very grateful that he’s more than just sex. I’m not sure how long it is that we drive, or even where we’re going. I keep my eyes closed and try to relax. I’m not very successful, but the movement of the road is soothing.

When the car finally comes to a stop I blink open my eyes, squinting against the sun. We’re in the driveway of a beautiful two-story house. It has a classic design, but it’s painted a pale gray with crisp white trim that lends it a modern edge. A beautiful oak tree stands in the front yard, tall and full-canopied. It’s a testament to how long this house has been here. I remember its history, how James inherited it from his benefactor.

James grabs my suitcase from the back and takes my hand again, leading me inside. The interior is also cool and pale, with very current style lines that make me think he’s remodeled it. James disappears down the hall with my suitcase, and I wander after him.

I see the way he put his living room together so it’s light and open. It feels so inviting that I sit down on the couch while looking around. He has a minimalist eye for detail that I find really appealing. Not the first thing I would have guessed, but now that I know him a little better it makes sense. He lived with so little for so long that he only keeps the things that are really important to him.

I hear James walk in behind me through an open archway into the kitchen. He returns with a glass of water for me, and I take it.

“Thanks.” Once I start to drink, I can’t stop. I didn’t even realize that I was thirsty.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, taking the empty glass from me.

I take a deep breath and release it. “I really don’t know. I still feel a bit blindsided, to be honest. And so naïve. And just…sad.”

“That makes sense. You’re not naïve, though, Vera. Far from it.”

He sits down beside me and puts his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into him. My body relaxes and a sudden wave of exhaustion flows through me. “Is it normal that I feel so tired? It’s barely noon.”

He nods. “It’s normal after a shock. I think you can definitely count what you discovered this morning as a shock.”

“Yeah.”

“Here.” He pulls me to my feet. “I have just the thing to relax you and take your mind off things.”

I open my mouth, and he beats me to it.

“Not sex.” He’s grinning as he leads me into a spacious master bedroom. “That comes later.”

A laugh spills out of me in spite of myself. “And what are we doing now?”

“I’m going to give you a massage.” He pulls down the blankets on the bed. “I think you’ve earned it. I just have one request.”

I smile. “Oh?”

James stands in front of me, our faces close. “I’ve imagined you naked in my bed, and there are few things I want more than to see it.”

I lean forward and kiss him softly, wrapping my arms around his neck. “I think that can be arranged.” I breathe against his lips. Peeling my t-shirt over my head, I let him unclasp my bra and toss it away. James sinks to his knees and then my pants are gone. He leans forward as if to touch me, but I move away, instead crawling across his bed.

His sheets are dark and soft, and I drape myself across them. I turn to look at him and the heat in his eyes is palpable as he takes in the sight of me. I follow his gaze as it moves along every inch of my body, and the pull in my core suddenly makes me think I might want the sex to be sooner instead of later. “Is this what you imagined?” I ask him.

“Much better,” he says, and his voice is hoarse. I don’t have to look at his pants to know that he’s hard. He clears his throat. “Time for your massage.”

“I have a request too,” I say, making him pause. “I never want to see you in that blue polo shirt ever again.”