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“Okay, BCL-1 is an oncogene that regulates a cell cycle. BCL-2 proteins help the cell survive…” I trail off and look up at Derek. His eyes are glued to my chest.
“You’re really smart,” he whispers, closing his textbook.
“Thank you,” I whisper back. He uncrosses his legs and takes off his baggy zip up hoodie.
“Sorry, just need a break,” he says and walks his jacket over to my dresser. I watch from the bed as he goes to the balcony doors. The sunset tonight, like every night since I have been here, is beautiful. I guess I’ve gotten used to it already. I stand up and join him, watching the colors fade to black on the horizon. The room grows dusky, and Derek grabs my hand. I hold my breath, having anticipated this in the back of my mind.
It’s not like Derek is ugly, and I’m notnotattracted to him.
He grabs me by the waist and pulls me closer to him. “God you’re so hot,” he says.
Our noses touch as he leans in to kiss me. I kiss him back as he sticks his tongue down my throat and moans. He struggles to lift my shirt over my head, knocking my glasses to the ground. His hands fondle around my tits, squeezing and grabbing everywhere but the nipple.
He takes his shirt off and frantically pushes against me until I’m against my bedroom door with his hand down my pants.
A feeling of wrongness overwhelms me, and I push him back with both my hands. “What the fuck?” he says, stumbling backwards onto my bed.
“I’m sorry,” I say, rushing over to put my shirt and glasses back on. “This is a mistake. You need to leave.” I throw him his shirt and he scoffs.
He swings my bedroom door open, storming out with his backpack and shirt in hand. “Bitch,” he yells, halfway down the hallway.
“Back at you!” I scream at him.
Fuck him. I’m going swimming. I put on my sexiest bikini and grab a towel from my bathroom. I’m not about to let Derek ruin my night.
The heated pool feels perfect against the cold evening air. Steam rises across the water into my face. Faint blue lights line the bottom of the shallow end, creating a shadow effect across the deeper ends of the massive pool. I swim over to the hard seltzer I placed by the stairs and take a sip. The back door slides open, and Elijah steps outside in his swim trunks that are a size too small for him. His body and demeanor are the opposite of Derek’s. The only thing they have in common is male stupidity.
The light ripples across his toned abdomen and large chest as he descends the stairs into the pool. He eyes me subtly, and I realize the bikini thong I’m wearing isn’t exactly brother-sister friendly.
“I heard Derek leave,” Elijah says darkly, wading out past me to the deep end.
I follow him slowly, dragging my drink along the side as I go. Great. I wonder what else he thought he heard. He turns around, just his head sticking out of the water. I can barely see his sharp features in the dark, but I can tell there’s a scowl on his face.
He swims up to me. “Do I fuck better than him?”
I nearly spit my drink out and look around the yard to make sure the parents aren’t out.
“They’re not here,” he bites.
He places his hand on one side of me, pinning me to the wall. “I asked you a question, Taylor.” I’m frozen, unable to break eye contact when he repeats himself. “Does he fuck better than me?”
No. Not even close.My lips tremble, and I can feel tears coming on.
“Do you think he’s capable of lifting you against the wall like I was? Capable of moving you up and down on his dick?” Elijah scoffs. “He got one thing right; you are a bitch.”
I slap him across the face, and he smiles deviously. “Oh, so you do have some fight in you.”
“Don’t call me that, Elijah. Don’t call me that again,” my voice trembles. I’m so sick and tired of being the bitch for rejecting a man, for having an opinion.
He throws his hands up defensively. “Fine, but just so you know, I’m already looking into what happened to you in San Jose. There's a reason you left, and I’ll find it.”
I flip him off and sit up on the ledge of the pool. “Go ahead. It won’t change the fact that I’m here to stay now, so you should drop whatever vendetta you have against me.”
He swims backwards to the center of the pool. “Sweet dreams, Taylor,” he says, his voice low and husky. I grab my drink and towel before heading into the house and off to my room.
8
TAYLOR CROMWELL
