Page 24 of I Saw Her First

But instead of growing up, he’s out partying with Rex, leaving his girlfriend here alone.

Daisy rises from her stool with a yawn. “I should get to bed.”

“Yeah, me too. Thanks for the help,” I add, motioning to the camera.

She pushes her mouth into a smile, but I know it’s not genuine. I know her smiles, and I know when she means them and when she doesn’t. I shouldn’t know that, but I do.

And with my son out doing God knows what, with God knows who, I feel a little less guilty about that knowledge.

10

Daisy

Istretch out on the soft cotton sheets, yawning. I hardly slept at all, and with the bright rays of the early morning sun streaking across my ceiling, I know I won’t get any more sleep.

Sitting up, I press my ear to the wall beside me. After Weston arrived last night, Jesse was in a foul mood. I tried to talk to him and calm him down, but he announced that he couldn’t be in the house with his dad, and that he was going to Rex’s. I know he was pissed at me for asking Weston to stay, but I meant what I said—it’s his beach house, and he’d driven two hours to be here. I’m not rude enough to kick him out, and he shouldn’t let Jess push him around like that. I know he’s trying to repair things with Jess, but he lets him get away with too much.

But what do I know? I’m hardly an expert on parent-child relationships.

There’s no sound through the wall, and I flop back onto my pillow with a sigh. I set up in the guest room beside Jesse’s room, mainly because I didn’t want to be disturbed when Jesse got in late. At least, that’s what I told myself, and what I plan to tell him if he asks. That’s justifiable, right?

Except, Jesse didn’t come in late. In fact, I don’t think he came in at all.

I tried to sleep, but every noise made me start, every time I thought I heard him. That, and the irritation I felt toward him. It’s not like I wanted to go and party with his friends—not even a little bit—but it would have been nice to be invited.

Instead, Jess stormed out like a teenager. The more I see this side of him—the way he acts around Weston—the less attracted I am to him. On our first date, he took me by surprise with his maturity, with his understanding about my inexperience and wanting to take things slow, and in the months following, he continued to surprise me. But the more time I spend with him around his father, the more immature he seems. He says he wants a relationship, but it’s hard to believe he’s ready for something so grown up.

It doesn’t help that I don’t know why he hates Weston so much. Family relationships are complicated—hell, I know better than most—but I struggle to see how Weston could have done something so unforgivable. From what I see, he’s a father who cares deeply about his son and wants nothing more than to repair their relationship, even at great cost to himself.

I’d give anything to have parents like that.

The sound of footsteps in the hallway breaks my train of thought, and I hear the door to Jess’s room open and close. There’s rustling, then a moment later I hear the sound of creaking bedsprings as he collapses onto the bed. I check the time on my phone and frown. It’s 7 a.m.

I should be relieved, but all I feel is anger burning hot in my chest. He’s out all fucking night, without me—without even texting to let me know where he is or when he might return. He might be annoyed with his dad, he might be frustrated that I haven’t put out yet, but I deserve a little more respect than that.

I haul myself from the bed with an irritated grunt and pad out to the kitchen. I’ll let him sleep now, but later he needs to make things right. With me,andwith his dad.

There’s cereal in the pantry and milk in the fridge. I hesitate. I don’t think Weston is up yet, otherwise I’d ask before helping myself, but I can only imagine he’d say yes. I pour a small bowl and wander over to look out at the sea as I eat. The morning sun glitters on the waves, rolling gently and steadily into the shore. Beyond them, a figure swims laps, back and forth across the bay, their path so precise it’s as if there are lanes painted on the ocean floor. I watch them, mesmerized, thinking about how soothing that must feel. Suspended in the cool water with the azure sky above. I don’t spend enough time in nature, I think, as I chew my breakfast. It’s hard in the city, but I don’t even visit the parks much. I spend almost all my time on the subway, in the coffee shop, and in my apartment. But taking in the expanse of sand and sea and sky, I realize how much I miss being outdoors. I spent forever playing in the yard as a kid, and that part of me is still alive somewhere, deep down inside.

I polish off my cereal and am about to turn and deposit my bowl in the dishwasher when the figure in the sea swims ashore. They step from the surf, and I realize it’s a man, with a lean and well-defined torso, chest covered with a fine layer of hair, biceps firm and strong. He comes closer, crossing the dunes, and that’s when I realize who I’m looking at.

Holy shit. That’sWeston.

My mouth dries at the sight of him, wet and glistening from the sea, abs flexing as he navigates the undulating sand, hair wet and curling slightly at the tips, dripping water onto his broad shoulders. I should look away, but I’m riveted. I knew he was attractive, but the body he hides under those suits? Holy hell. I press my legs together at the sight of him, feeling restless. I recognize this sensation running through me, hot and urgent.

It’s arousal.

I mean, just because I haven’t had sex doesn’t mean I’m not sexual. I have urges and needs, like everyone else. It’s just that I usually have to take care of them myself, and there have been many occasions where I’ve done exactly that, picturing the man on the dunes in front of me. I haven’t done that since meeting Jess, of course, but seeing Weston now, seeing hisbody—the urge strikes me again, and I swallow hard, wetting my lips.

He glances up at the house as he approaches, and his eyes meet mine through the glass sliding door.

Fuck.

I break from my trance and stumble away from the door, heart racing. What the hell am I doing, perving on my boyfriend’s dad in his bathing suit?

I shove my bowl into the dishwasher with shaking hands and scurry to my room before Weston enters the house.

Before he can ask me why I’m watching him, half naked on the beach, while his son sleeps in the next room.

---