Page 47 of Heathen

"She doesn't have a suit," Bandera answers for her. "Already asked, but now that you're here, she may be more amenable to skinny dipping."

"Excuse me?" I snap, my eyes glaring in his direction.

The man doesn't even bother to look surprised by my reaction.

"I suggested her bra and panties, but—"

Kaylee laughs like he has told the funniest joke.

"That's all she does," Bandera says, pointing at her.

I continue to glare at my teammate, all the while wondering if I could drown the man and make it look like an accident.

All he does is smile wider as if he's proven some sort of point. I want to ask him to share with the class, but I get the feeling I wouldn't like anything that comes out of his mouth right now.

As if I were invited, I take a seat right beside her, wondering how long she'll last sitting on the bench with our thighs touching.

"I guess I'll give you newlyweds some time alone," Bandera says, lifting himself up out of the pool as if scaling a damn wall is an everyday occurrence for him.

Instead of watching him, I turn my attention to her. Instead of finding her staring at him and drooling, she's looking right at me.

I give myself a moment to let my eyes wander over every inch of her face.

"What happened here?" I ask, lifting my hand, and letting one finger brush over the tiny scar below her bottom lip.

For a split second, her mouth hangs open, her breath loud as it rushes past her lips.

"I fell when I was little. Bit right through my lip. I had eight stitches. Four inside my mouth and four outside."

"Sounds painful," I say, pulling my hand away and letting it drop into my lap.

"I don't remember it happening. I only remember the story being told to me as a child. My grandmother was watching me. I was running through the house, not heeding her warning that it was dangerous. Even though it was my fault, she apologized every time we went to visit her."

"She must've felt terrible that you got hurt under her supervision."

"She was a wonderful woman," Kaylee says, her voice marked with sadness. "She was my biggest fan."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I say after noticing her use of past-tense words.

"It happens, right?" she says with a sad smile. "Are you or were you close to your grandparents?"

I pull in a deep breath. She's opening a can of worms with these questions. As much as I want to lay my entire life out at her feet, we aren't exactly in a position to share family histories.

"I'm not very close to anyone in my family, with the exception of Ellie."

"Ellie?"

"My little sister," I answer. "Are you an only child?"

"I have two brothers and two sisters."

"That's a lot of kids," I say. "I have a younger brother as well. I thought three kids was a lot."

"You're the oldest?I'm stuck right in the middle. My parents had the girl then boy pattern down to a science."

"My parents only had kids because it was expected of them," I mutter, looking away when I realize I've probably said too much.

Who wants to hear about the poor rich kid who didn't get enough love from his family? Not me, that's for damn sure. I don't care how much it has shaped my adult life.

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