Page 39 of Unhinged Love

“I’m not swimming. But I’ll come out with you.” She pauses to take off her heeled sandals, then follows me while I shed one piece of clothing after another. My shirt ends up slung over the back of a kitchen chair before I step outside, where right away I undo my belt and kick off my shoes.

“I still don’t know why you won’t. What, are you afraid I’ll drown you or something?” I pause and look over my shoulder, laughing—because it was a joke—just in time to watch her face fall, then harden.

“I’m only kidding,” I mutter, but she doesn’t react right away. Instead of looking at me, acknowledging me, she stares at the pool, sitting in the first chair she comes to.

“I don’t swim, okay? I just don’t.” Her shoulders are starting to rise. She’s about to go back into hiding, and I can’t believe how much I want to stop her from doing it. Is it too much to ask that we have a single night where she doesn’t act like I’m the Grim Reaper?

“What, you just never learned how? It’s easy. And probably safer if you do learn,” I add as I drop my pants, letting them puddle at my feet before stepping out and taking off my socks. She hasn’t moved by the time I’m down to my boxer briefs, which I wait to take off. She’s got my interest. I don’t know why, but something is compelling me to understand her. Maybe it’s the champagne, maybe it’s that little flicker of camaraderie we shared at the reception. For whatever reason, I stop what I’m doing to watch her, to wait for an explanation.

“I can swim. I just don’t want to. I had… an incident a few years ago. In high school,” she murmurs, grabbing one arm with the other hand and ducking her head a little. “I don’t know why I thought it would be okay for me to go to a party when I’d never gone to one before. Mom kind of pushed me into it, which I’m sure does not come as a surprise.”

She’s right. It doesn’t. I keep my thoughts to myself, since it seems like she’s on a roll.

She’s staring at the water, and the lights from the pool dance over her face with every ripple on the surface. Leaning forward, she wraps her arms around her knees. “I was minding my own business. I wasn’t trying to talk to anybody. I wasn’t trying to show off. I just wanted to be there. For once. I wanted to be a part of something. But that was too much to ask.”

Her laughter is sharp, bitter. “I was sitting in a chair, kind of like this one, drinking a soda. I was still dressed. I felt uncomfortable, but I told myself to deal with it. I couldn’t just spend my whole life ignoring things that made me uncomfortable. That was what Mom always said to me, you know? I figured she was right, so I forced myself to sit there. Just to sit. Not to make conversation or flirt with any of the guys. I wouldn’t have known where to start.” Her gaze drops to the patio at her feet.

“What happened?” I ask, going to her, lowering myself into a chair next to her. Watching every move she makes, every twitch of her face.

She presses her lips together so tight they disappear while a shudder runs over her. “Two guys got a hold of me, one on each arm. And they were laughing, and everybody was cheering, and I didn’t know what was happening until they pulled me to the edge of the pool. I still thought they were joking because, you know, everybody was laughing and clapping. I almost started to laugh too—that’s the saddest part. I started to laugh because I honestly thought stupidly that we were all having fun together. I’m so ashamed of how stupid I was.”

She lifts a shoulder, then mumbles, “Then I realized they were going to throw me into the deep end. I started asking for them to stop, please stop, but they weren’t listening. They just… threw me in.”

“Fuck,” I mutter.

“And then there were these girls who were already in the water.” Now she’s talking faster, with an edge in her voice as anger leaks in and colors the story. “And I reached for one of them because I was panicking. My clothes were pulling me down, and I was trying to hold onto something to keep me floating, but all she did was shove me down. They took turns pushing me under the water. When I tried to get to the edge, they wouldn’t let me.” Her voice cracks before she shudders again.

“I still hear all of it so clearly in my head. And I was splashing and gulping water and then I went under again…”

Her eyes close and a single tear trickles down her cheek, sparkling like a jewel in the light dancing across her face. “And I was so sure I was going to die. I kept reaching out for help, and they kept shoving me, pushing me back under. I was so sure I was dying. And they didn’t care. An adult finally showed up and told them to stop playing around. Finally, they let me swim to the edge, and I pulled myself out. And you know what? They sounded disappointed. They really, honestly did.”

“Sick fucks,” I grunt in disgust.

I didn’t expect her head to snap around the way it does or for her eyes to blaze as brightly as they do. “Really? Are they? Because it seems like no matter where I go, no matter what I do, I end up being the butt of somebody’s joke. Somebody decides they’re going to make my life miserable just because I exist. Does that sound familiar?”

I don’t know what’s harder to believe: the way she was so quick to turn things around on me, or the fire in her voice. I’ve always known that fire had to exist in her. I’ve seen flashes of it before. But now it’s blazing, and it’s directed at me.

“I had my reasons.” And I still do, don’t I? Nothing has changed, really. Right?

“Everybody always thinks they’ve got their reasons. I never did anything to you to deserve the way you’ve treated me. And I’m not going to sit here now and listen to you justify yourself.”

She’s out of the chair and on her feet before I can say a word. “Wait,” I blurt out, getting up and reaching for her. She tries to yank herself out of my grasp, but she should know better by now. I don’t give up that easily.

“Let go of me,” she growls, and I guess I’m supposed to be intimidated, but all it does is make me more determined to pull her in close. To smell her hair. To feel her tremble against me, the way she does when I wrap an arm around her waist to hold her in place. “Do you have a problem understanding English? I said to let me go.”

I don’t do anything unless I want to, and I don’t want to let her go. I would rather test the softness of her hair, the smoothness of her cheek. Her heart is fluttering like crazy, her pulse pounding in her throat when my fingers trail over her skin.

I’m looking at her, but all I can see is a girl getting pushed under the water, panicking, thinking she’s going to die. Right now, I would kill every last one of them while she watches, just to show her not everybody’s like that. Whoever the fuck they are, they don’t deserve to live.

Something stirs deep in me. I slide a finger under her chin, tipping her head back and holding it there so I can claim her mouth. She goes stiff at first, but that’s no surprise. I part her lips with my tongue and kiss her slowly, deeply, taking the time to indulge in her like I never have. She’s been through so much. I’ve added to it. Maybe this kiss is an apology. Maybe it’s my way of telling her I see her, all of her, when I can’t find the words.

With a soft sigh, she melts against me, her hands moving over my bare chest, sparking a fire that covers me in a heated flush. A low growl stirs in my throat, and she shivers as the kiss deepens, both of us breathing faster, something deep andneedful urging me on. I don’t know what I’m doing. I only know I have to. It feels right—that’s the craziest part of all. I’m not doing it to embarrass her or control her. I’m doing it because I want to.

And she wants it, too, nails digging into my shoulders, her breathing quick and desperate. Her body is alive in my arms, moving against me, my hands gliding over the fabric of her dress and teasing the curves underneath. Fuck, she is so much more than she seemed, and I’m hungry to learn every inch of her. What else is hiding, waiting to be discovered?

I can’t help taking hold of her ass and gripping it, pulling her against my cock.

Which is exactly when she freaks, going stiff. The hands that were just clutching my shoulders like I was all she wanted now loosen, so she can press them against my chest like she wants to push me away. “No,” she mumbles, turning her face away from mine. “No. This isn’t happening.”

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