Page 22 of All Your Firsts

The door opens, and I whip my head to the left as Vic walks behind the girl he just brought back there no more than three minutes ago.

“What the fuck are you doing in the pool, Ax?”

“Having a heart-to-heart.”

Vic’s eyes meet mine, but he doesn’t utter a word as he escorts his friend out. He walks back with a murderous look, and I cluck my tongue. I have this undeniable urge inside me to irritate him and get a rise out of him.

He’s been up and down with me for days, which is confusing as hell.

“You know, they have pills for that.”

“For what?”

“Your problem.”

“Which is?” he asks in a bored tone.

“You seem to have many, but right now, your little friend left pretty quick.”

Axl laughs as Vic finally catches up.

“I don’t have any problems in that department.”

“Whatever you say.”

“You’ve been in the pool since morning. Maybe you should get out and take a nap or something.”

“I’m not fucking five, and why are you watching me in the pool?”

“Yeah, Vic. Why are you watching her in the pool?”

“Fuck off, Ax.”

“I probably should,” Axl says with a sigh. “Thanks for the help.”

“Anytime. You owe me a favor.” I level Axl with narrowed eyes.

Even though I have no desire to involve myself with the Mafia, I understand the value of keeping connections and collecting favors for potential future use.

He nods his head as he gets out of the pool. “Deal.”

“No fucking deal,” Vic snaps.

“You need to lighten up.” I snap back with the same bite as him.

Vic’s penetrating eyes lock onto me as he confidently descends the steps and immerses himself in the water. Fully clothed.

Oh fuck.

My eyes widen in disbelief as he menacingly continues to approach me. I stand my ground, unmoving, like a statue, despite my inner desire to retreat. If I wasn’t already in the water, I’m sure my palms would be sweating.

“I’ll just be going.” We both ignore Axl’s admission.

Vic stands over me as I look up into his eyes with a giddy smile I shouldn’t feel. I remember when I was small, maybe seven or eight, I had this nasty little habit of smiling when I got reprimanded or in tense situations when uncomfortable. It was something I broke as I got older, but for some reason, I can’t stop the smile on my face. I bite the inside of my cheek, willing myself to stop. I can’t believe he’s managed to pull this dormant habit out of me. Perhaps it’s the constant verbal sparring between us since I arrived, or maybe it’s the captivating sight of his black tee shirtclinging to his body, shaped by the water, that I find myself unable to look away from. Out of my peripheral vision, of course.

“Why are you trying to get on my last fucking nerve?”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

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