Bound to You

Chapter 8

It was weeks before I saw you again, and they dragged by. I knew how adults worked. I knew that sometimes they decided to end friendships on a whim; I knew they lost their jobs and moved; I knew they floated in and out of relationships. Any of these things could keep you from visiting us.

But eventually you did, and when it happened, it felt like the world righting itself again after weeks of being tilted in the wrong direction.

It was storming, a torrential downpour that had made it close to impossible to make it home that afternoon, even in Brad's big truck.

After Jason got word of what happened between Brad and me, he dumped me, Brad's girlfriend dumped him, and even though I didn't have sex with Brad again, we had delved into a confusing "friends with benefits" relationship that allowed us to get off with each other without ever having to have a conversation. It wasn't exactly screaming orgasms, but it was better than utter loneliness while I waited for you to drift back into my life.

That afternoon, when Brad pulled into my driveway, and your little silver car was waiting beside my dad's BMW, that part of me that slept while you were away came awake again. I ignored Brad trying to get my attention and threw myself out into the rain, rushing for the house, not caring that I was getting soaked from head to toe.

Inside, the house was quiet. No sign of you or my dad, only the sound of the rain slamming against the windows. I didn't know why I didn't say anything, but I decided not to make a sound as I moved through the house. In the kitchen, I caught sight of my dad in the pool house through the windows. He was digging through a drawer, and I had no clue what he was looking for, but I knew it meant I was probably alone in the house with you.

I tip-toed down the hallway, as quiet as I could with my clothes squelching in the cold air. At the end of the hallway, my parents' bedroom door sat open. Inside, the room was dark, but as I stood in the hallway, peering in just enough, I saw you in the middle of the room. You had your back to me, no shirt, just a pair of sweatpants hanging low on your hips. As I watched, you pulled a t-shirt over your head, and I watched the expanse of skin over your back, the muscles bunching beneath, as the t-shirt fell into place.

My whole body went up in flames. I backed away quick from the door before you realized that someone was watching you. I took the stairs two at a time, hearing you come out of my dad's bedroom as I went.

"Richard?" you called, probably thinking that I was him. "Thanks for the clothes. Sorry I turned up like a drowned sewer rat."

I rushed into my bedroom, shut the door, and flipped the lock. I didn't bother to turn on the light. The storm cast the whole room in shadow, and as I pressed my back to my door, I heard you downstairs, moving from one side of the house to the other, calling my dad's name.

I stripped off my clothes and laid on my bed, the sheets cold under my wet skin. I thought about the smooth skin of your back, the muscles in your arms, the color of your eyes. And I let my hands wander my body.

I heard footsteps on the stairs, and I clamped my hand over my mouth to stop the sounds as fireworks went off behind my eyes, squeezing them shut and whispering your name over and over against my palm.

"Lena?" My dad's voice. I clamped my legs together and tried to steady my breathing.

"Yeah?"

He rattled the doorknob, and I thanked the Lord that I had had the presence of mind to lock it. "Didn't know you were home, kiddo. Sorry I didn't warn you about John. He just came for dinner."

"No problem," I said, smiling up at the ceiling. "I'll be down in a second. Just have to change out of these wet clothes."

"Sure thing, kid." I heard his footsteps on the stairs again, and I lay there in my bed, listening to my racing pulse.