Page 28 of A Hidden Past

“Why, though?”

I feel a rant coming on, but before I can try to deflect him, he tilts his head at the houses in front of us. “Look at all these people, bro. They’re grown up. They’ve got big houses, nice cars, rich husbands, bombshell wives: they’ve got it made, bro. And they fucking hate themselves. I'll be honest with you, bro. When I came here, I was just looking to find some lonely heart to spend time with, maybe a few old ladies who weren't careful where they left their jewelry boxes." I control my reaction to that one. "But now that I'm here? Fuck it, bro. I don't want anything these people have. It's crazy, but like seeing how rich people live almost makes me glad I'm poor. You know what I mean?"

I think of my mom, probably halfway through her second bottle of vodka. I think of my room and the beer, pills and heroin stashed there.

Then I think of Lila Kensington, face down in her pool because her eating disorder was too much for Daddy’s political career.

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

***

Vivian’s hand grips my shoulder hard, and her body tenses, then shudders.

“Yes!” she cries out. “Oh God!”

I reach my own climax and bury my head in her neck as my cries join hers. We lay there for a long moment, gasping and shaking as our bodies come down from a high better than anything that ever came out of a needle.

When I feel her relax completely, I roll over. She moans again when we separate, and we lay next to each other while we finish catching our breath.

She puts her hand across her body and pats my chest. “Good job, Nate. Damn.”

I can’t help myself. I start laughing at that. She joins me a moment later, and we spend another moment letting the emotional high replace the physical one.

Then she rolls over and kisses me deeply. I feel my body start to respond, but I don’t make a move. The emotional high soars to the clouds, and I want to cling to that feeling.

When she pulls away, she stays above me, smiling and stroking my hair. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come back,” she says finally. “I’m glad you did.”

I stare up at her in amazement. “Why on Earth wouldn’t I come back?”

She giggles and rolls off of me and off the bed. I stare at her as she pulls on her underwear and a silk robe. “I guess you’re right. I forget sometimes that you’re only nineteen. All I have to do is answer the door looking like this, and you’ll do pretty much anything I want.”

I know she’s only teasing, but something about the way she says that makes me uneasy. The feeling vanishes quickly though. It’s pretty much impossible to feel bad after what we just did.

She looks over her shoulder at me and smiles wryly. “We can come back here later,” she said, “but I feel like talking right now, so get up. We’re going to the couch.”

I grin and hop off the bed, pulling on my boxers and t-shirt. “We don’t have to come back to the bed.”

She laughs again. “Right. You’re only nineteen. I forgot again.”

We head to the living room and Vivian pours us each another glass of Chardonnay. I sip, and the warmth almost immediately returns to my body. This is my third glass already. I think I'm starting to like wine.

“Have the cops talked to you again?” she asks, sitting next to me and pulling her feet up under her. It’s an oddly adorable movement, and I feel a surge of affection for her that isn’t entirely sexual.

“Not yet.”

“Really? I’m surprised. I figured they’d finger you for the killer.” Seeing my shocked expression, she rolls her eyes. “Obviously I’m glad they didn’t, but still… rich homeowners versus dirt-poor pool boy.”

“I’m glad to know that’s how you think of me,” I say.

She rolls her eyes again. “I just let you screw me, and I told you you could do it again in a few minutes. Clearly, I like you.”

“Or you just like what I can do to you.”

“I do,” she says, nodding to emphasize the statement. “I very much do.” She shoves me playfully. “But I also like you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! God, but not if you’re going to be so needy.”

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