Betrayal

Chapter 9

Soft light greets me as my eyes open. The dream I was having dissipates slowly, fading into reality. I clutch the pillow I'm holding to my chest tightly, close my eyes, then open them again at the sound of water splashing.

Someone's in the pool.

I'm sure it's Warren. The simple thought of him brings my dream back to the surface. The two of us outside, staring at one another, his eyes consuming me, intimidating me. Watching him walk away, trying to chase him, but being rooted into the sand.

It was a short dream.

I roll over to see Dominic asleep beside of me. A quick peek under the comforter reveals he's naked. I was so in and out of sleep, unable to get comfortable due to my wayward thoughts and anxiety, but I remember him coming in at some point. The thought that perhaps something could've happened between him and Cecilia crosses my mind, but doesn't linger. I don't think he's that kind of person. Besides, Lola was there, and she would have already told me if something had happened.

Part of me wishes he would. It would give me an excuse to end things with him, pack up, and go back to New York. There wouldn't be anymore temptation to do these impure things with his father. I could be by myself until college starts. I could be single. My head wouldn't be so clouded the way it is now. I'd be away from him and Warren and everything else.

But I can't just end things. He's the perfect boyfriend on paper. He's handsome, kind, sweet, dotes on me. He isn't bad in bed, though he doesn't make me come. I'm sure if I were more attracted to him it would come easy to me. Maybe I'm broken. Maybe I can't come or never will.

I kiss his hair and run my fingers through it, he stirs for a moment, but stays asleep. I slide out of bed and pull on a pair of panties and the flannel I wore last night. It smells of smoke from the bonfire. The splashing of the water continues as I step onto the balcony, lean against the bannister, and watch. It is Warren, swimming with ease from one side of the pool to the other. He glides through the water, his tanned skin glistening in the early morning sun, and I watch.

I'm tired, hungover, and last night is somewhat of a blur. But it's like a small punch in the gut every time I think of him walking away from me. It makes me sick because it happened at all and because I'm upset it didn't go further.

How can I want him? What is wrong with me? Did I get dropped on my fucking head as a baby? This is sick, lusting after my boyfriends father the way I am.

He comes to a stop and wades water for a moment, pushes his hair back, and then looks directly at me. I jump, gasp softly, and somehow manage to bring my hand up to wave. A smile touches his lips, just for a moment, before he waves back. It makes me smile.

I feel relieved. He isn't going to treat me like a leper or cast me off, ignore me, or pretend I don't exist now. But then I think quickly that maybe that would be better. Just because he walked away and said let's forget about it doesn't mean I'm going to. My feelings haven't changed. I'm still attracted to him. He's still on my mind. That hasn't changed. The only thing that's changed is that I know he feels the same way now. And he hasn't told his wife, obviously, or I wouldn't be here right now.

It's just going to hang in the air between us with no end or resolution. We're going to pretend it didn't happen the same way I've pretended he didn't get a hard on when we were on his motorcycle. I'm not sure I can handle that, the tension, the intensity.

As he climbs out and begins to dry himself off, I alternate from looking at him to the clear sky. His hair is a wavy, crazy, curly mess, and I like it. Like I seem to do so often when I see him without his shirt on, I stare at the muscles on his back and arms. And his legs. The dark hair that covers them is attractive to me and I don't know why. I wonder what it would be like to grip them, feel them, touch them.