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Keeping my stride, I shoved my sleep shorts down and kicked them away just before I reached the edge of the pool. Without hesitating, I dove into the water, instantly feeling calmer once the water embraced my heated skin. Everything muffled, including my raging thoughts. Everything slowed down. I stayed under as long as I could, making it over halfway across before I broke the surface with a gasp, immediately stretching one arm and then the other. I sank into the practiced rhythmic movement.
Stroke, stroke, stroke, breathe. Repeat. When I reached the wall, I tucked my chin to my chest and flipped underwater, planted my feet against the wall, and shoved as hard as I could, rotating my body before breaking the surface again.
With each length I completed, my anger ebbed until the thoughts slowed enough for me to make them out. The last couple days had built me to this moment, and Phillip’s email was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
I’d laid in bed after Corbin turned me away, a mixture of shame, frustration, and so much need. Each emotion warred all night, leaving me tossing and turning. I’d stumbled from bed with a loose plan to talk it out the next morning, but he’d been gone. I’d held on to my resolve throughout the day, solidifying a conversation to act like adults who could possibly have sex because we were both adults no matter how much he wanted to paint me like some little girl.
But my resolve snapped, crumbling to itty bitty pieces when he came home late only to inform me that he needed to head to bed for an early day today. Oh, and also that he would be home late—if at all—because he had a date. I’d been so shocked by the turn of events, I hadn’t been able to get my mouth to form any words before he left me standing there, slack-jawed, in the kitchen.
If I’d been frustrated when he turned me down, it was nothing compared to when eight turned to nine and nine turned to ten, each passing hour leaving me to imagine him going home with some woman after I literally threw myself at his feet. I spent the entire day stretching my neck side to side to ease the tight muscles from my never-ending clenched jaw.
I’d been on my way to another fitful night of rest when my phone dinged with an incoming email from Phillip, finally responding to the email I sent over a week ago.
When fire burned in my lungs, and my shoulders ached all the way to my fingers, I gripped the edge instead of completing another turn.
“Fuck men and their need to treat me like I’m twelve instead of twenty-two,” I muttered between pants. Resting my elbows along the cool blue tile, I caught my breath, pushing my hair back. I hadn’t even bothered to tie it back. Or take off my shirt.
I almost laughed at the irony that the one-time Corbin wouldn’t be home, I’d left my shirt on to swim.
I’d been lost in the humor that I missed the sound of the back-door opening. However, I didn’t miss the light clicking of sharp-pointed heels striking the pavement. Each step tapped out like a gas oven waiting to ignite. Just like that, my irritation spiked again. Only this time, I had an outlet. I didn’t look up, already knowing I’d find Corbin with some beautiful woman, no doubt.
I waited until the steps stopped before I plastered on the most fake, socialite smile I could muster. Even in the dim lights of the patio, I could see her radiant red hair flowing around her modelesque features.
“Hi,” she greeted with a smile so real, it almost made me feel bad for what I was about to do. “I’m Diane.”
Not bothering to give my name in return, I glanced to Corbin, who scowled so hard I worried his eyebrows would weld together. My fear faded when instead, they relaxed enough to let his jaw muscle get a workout. While my smile may have looked polite and eager, my eyes promised I was about to fuck up his night.
Returning my attention to her, I made my way to the steps, swaying my hips with each step out of the water. Corbin almost looked relieved to find I had a shirt on until he realized it was white. And that I hadn’t worn a bra.
Poor Diane’s eyes widened before she blinked rapidly and looked away. Her full lips parted, probably about to let me know how exposed I was or to apologize, with her sweet southern accent, for interrupting. Before she could say anything, I cut her off.
“Corbin?” I asked, all innocence. “Did you bring your date home to play?”
Diane attempted to cling to her smile despite her confusion. “I’m sorry. I—I don’t understand.”
