Page 57
After a quick shower, I decide to tackle the guest bedroom. My sister gave me a spare bed and a few extra pieces of furniture to make it a proper room for the kinds of guests that don’t actually sleep in my bed.
The bed is already put together, and in the boxes Charlotte left me, I find the bedding, some decorations, and a few candles. By lunchtime, I have the space looking like an actual guest room. I even have a few extra pieces of artwork and a lamp my decorator bought before she quit on me—another casualty of my behavior.
I get the abstract hung above the bed when I notice movement in the pool house. Leaving my boxes behind, I head downstairs and out to the pool house—like a sailor to siren song.
“Good morning, birthday girl,” I say, standing in the doorway, watching her set up. She has her long, wet hair set in pigtail braids with denim overalls over a sports bra. The pants are baggy and rolled up to her knees. I find myself smiling at her even when I don’t mean to be.
“Morning,” she echoes with a smile, peeking at me over her shoulder.
I was afraid things between us would be awkward or that what we did last night would change the dynamic between us, but Sunny seems unfazed, getting back to work on the upper half of her mural. The bottom is bright with color, reflected in the light, and I know it’s going to be perfect when it’s done.
“Can I show you something?” I ask.
She smiles hesitantly as she follows me back into the house and up to the guest bedroom. At first, her face lights up when she sees the warm glow from the lamp and the cozy cotton aroma from the candle. Then, I see the smallest sign that she’s disappointed.
“This is for me, isn’t it?” she asks.
“You need your own space, Sunny. I want you to be comfortable, and I know that might sound ironic after what happened last night, but…it’s for the best.”
Pursing her lips, she looks up at me. “You’re beating yourself up, aren’t you?”
“I’m not,” I lie.
“This would make you feel better?”
“It would,” I lie again.
Looking at the room again, she hides her disappointment behind a fake smile. “Then, it’s perfect. Thank you.”
With that, she walks away, back toward the pool house, seemingly more okay with this than I expected she’d be. I thought she’d put up a fight like she always does. “You’re in a good mood today,” I call after her just as she reaches the sliding glass doors.
She turns around with a mischievous smile. “I wish my birthday came around a lot more often.”
My lips crack a smile, watching her walk away. After finishing up a few more things in the guest room, I head out to the pool house. She’s already deep into her work. I figured Sunny might be working on a hangover, but she looks fine.
“Let me know if you need anything today,” I say, walking to the fridge.
She giggles quietly at my statement, and I stop, realizing what I just said holds a certain connotation after last night. “I didn’t mean it like that.” I laugh back.
She giggles harder.
“I’m going to the store. Do you need anything?” I ask.
“No, thank you,” she answers without looking back.
“All right.” I’m standing only a couple of feet away, and I feel the need to touch her. I settle for tugging gently on one of her pigtails. She swats at me after I do.
As I walk out, she turns and calls toward me. “Oh, get me some of those chickpea snacks you had the other day. Please.” She throws me a toothy grin, putting dimples in her cheeks. I’d buy her all the chickpea snacks in the world if she did that.
“You got it, rain cloud.”
The solo trip does nothing to clear my head. All I can think about the whole way there and back is what I did last night, wondering if we could ever come back from that. No matter how much I keep trying to convince myself that my intentions were good, that I’m not a fucking creep who wanted to be the first tongue on that pussy, I still feel like one. Corrupting a sweet girl like Sunny because I didn’t want an immature kid like Liam to be the one to do it.
And of course, the other thing I can’t stop thinking about is that I want to be the first one to fuck her. Not because I have some fantasy about virgins but because I should be the first one.
Sunny feels like mine, and the thought of anyone else there, no matter how old or stupid he is, makes me want to drive this Audi straight into a wall. No, Sunny doesn’t just feel like mine. Sunny is mine.
When I get back from the store, there’s a car in my driveway. The hairs on the back of my neck stand up when I think about Sunny in there alone and one of my dickhead “friends” showing up unannounced to find a gorgeous young woman who never wears enough clothes prancing around my pool house.
