Falling for the Ghost of You Page 9

“Why don’t you?”

  I make a face. “Too cold.”

  Zane sits up. “The pools heated, you know.”

  “It is? Wish I knew that before.” I sigh.

  “So, let’s go for a swim,” he says, tugging at my ponytail.

  “What, now?” I laugh. “It’s almost midnight!”

  “So? You gonna turn into a pumpkin? Come on.”

  Zane is already standing up and taking off his shirt, and I have to tear my eyes away from the bronzed muscled perfection of his chest and shoulders. Oh, God, am I drooling? Look at those chiseled abs!

  He pauses with his hand on the button of his jeans (gasp!) and glances up at me expectantly. “Are you gonna swim in your clothes?”

  He seems totally unaware that he’s giving me a heart attack right now. When he starts to unzip his jeans, I turn around so fast, I almost fall out of the chair. I am sure I’m beet red from head to toe. I have to clear my throat to find my voice. “I’ll get my swim suit,” I manage to choke out.

  The sound of his sexy chuckle sends my pulse spinning into overdrive. “Don’t forget your arm floaties, too. What are you, ten? You don’t need your swimsuit. It’s just us.”

  I am so shocked by what I think he’s suggesting, that I whip around to glare at him. “I’m not going skinny dipping with you!”

  Zane is standing there in black boxers and nothing else, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen a sight more beautiful than his long lean body and the complex contours and ridges of his sleek muscles. He’s smirking at me now—can he feel me eye-licking him?

  “Swim in your underwear,” he says with that almost-smile of his. “I don’t skinny dip with good girls like you.”

  I can’t help the frown that pulls down the corners of my mouth. It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him why not. What’s wrong with me? Then I think…what’s wrong with me?! Of course I don’t want to go skinny dipping with Zane!

  He looks at me and shakes his head slightly. “Go get your swimsuit, Violet. And relax. It looks like your head's about to explode.”

  I frown harder. “I’m fine! You just caught me by surprise, is all. Just…turn around. I can’t undress while you’re looking at me.”

  He gets this funny look on his face. He opens his mouth to say something, then shuts it quickly. Shaking his head again, he turns and dives smoothly into the pool. When he resurfaces, he immediately begins to do laps.

  I clutch the bottom of my shirt with trembling hands. Am I really doing this? Wait, do I have on nice underwear right now? Oh, God, I can’t do this. My boobs are too big. It will be too embarrassing.

  God, don’t over think this, Violet. It’s just swimming in a pool with a friend. An incredibly hot and sexy friend. In our underwear. It’s not like he hasn’t seen me in my underwear before, damn it. He’s not making a big deal out of this, so neither should I. Don’t want him to think I’m a prude. I’m not a prude!

  I stand there, agonizing over the prude-ish thoughts in my head. Then something wet grabs my ankle and I scream and flail backwards.

  It’s Zane. His dark eyes gleam up at me, made luminescent by the reflection of the lit pool water. His dark hair sticks up in cute little spikes when he runs a hand through it. “What are you doing?”

  “Thinking,” I say, patting a hand over my still-racing heart.

  “Yeah? About what?”

  “Um…I don’t know if I should go swimming. I don’t think I—”

  “Let me make this easy on you, then.”

  Before I can ask him what he means by that, he lifts himself up, grabs my hand, and tugs. I’m pulled off balance, and with a scream and a huge splash, I’m drowning in the pool!

  Okay, maybe I’m not drowning. I break the surface, already yelling at him. “You idiot!”

  “You’re welcome!” he yells back. Laughing, he swims away.

  Now that the shock has worn off, my tense muscles start to loosen at the pure enjoyment of being in a beautiful pool on a beautiful night, with a beautiful boy. The water is the perfect temperature, cooling my heated skin and gently lapping against my body. I glance over at Zane to make sure he’s not looking, then I quickly struggle out of my shirt and pants under the cover of the water. Thank goodness I’m wearing my black lace bra and matching panties. Nice, but not too revealing.

  Okay, this isn’t too weird. I can do this.

  I swim over to Zane, and we splash around for a little while before challenging each other to a swim race. He wins, of course. I’m a good swimmer, but his 6’2” frame gives him an unfair advantage. That doesn’t stop me from demanding a rematch or two. I don’t win any of those, either.

  After doing a few lazy laps together, we decide to take a break in the shallow end. By this time, I’ve completely forgotten I’m only in my underwear. I lean against the edge of the pool, the water hitting me at the top of my rib cage.

  “This is really nice,” I sigh contentedly, tilting my head back to see the star-filled sky.

  “Yeah. Really nice.”

  Something in the dark tone of his voice makes me look at him. His eyes meet mine, then his gaze slowly lowers down my body. They linger deliberately on my chest, and there's no mistaking what he’s looking at.

  I can’t help the audible gasp that escapes me as Zane moves over to me, placing his hands on either side of me on the edge of the pool and caging me in with his body. We aren’t quite touching, but close enough that I can feel the heat of his skin and become dizzy at his nearness.

  He lowers his head so he can look me in the eye. “I was wrong,” he says softly.

  His proximity is making me squirmy in places I never knew I had. It’s all I can do to try to relearn to breathe and not give in to the sudden ache that is driving me to connect our bodies.

  “About what?” I ask in a low voice. My eyes helplessly drop down to his crazy sexy mouth.

  That beautiful mouth moves into his familiar half-smile. “I thought I could control myself enough to be with you like this,” he murmurs. “But it turns out, I can’t. You need to go, Violet.”

  I’m so surprised, I barely take in the meaning of his words. “What? You go. Wait…why?”

  Zane inhales deeply and turns his head to avoid my confusion. “Because,” he says through gritted teeth. “If you don’t , I’m going to kiss you, and if I kiss you, you’re going to end up naked.”

  Oh...wait, what?!

  Shock and desire have my nerves tingling like I’ve been struck by horny lightning. My heart is doing joyful leaps. He wants me!

  He wants me.

  “You’re very sure of yourself,” I manage to say, almost steadily.

  He grins. My hormones react wildly. “You should be scared of me right now, little girl.”

  Sexy banter. I can do this. Taking a deep breath, I boldly meet his gorgeous eyes. “I’m not,” I squeak. “I’m not scared at all.”

  Great, now he’s amused. But he doesn’t move away from me, staying within kissing distance, maybe moving a fraction of an inch closer. “If you knew what I wanted to do to you, you would be,” he says.

  Um. Yikes.

  “What do you want to do to me?” I whisper.

  Zane stuns me by hooking a finger under the front clasp of my bra and tugging me close enough for me to brush up against his hard chest. Then he leans down and whispers in my ear.

  He says...

  Oh, god.

  I know what he’s talking about. I’ve heard girls in my school giggling about their boyfriends doing it to them. But I’ve never thought about having that done to me, never in a million years imagined someone like Zane whispering in my ear that he’d like to do that with me. To me.

  Oh, god.

  Zane takes a step back. His jaw is clenched, his whole body is tense and alert. He seems to absorb my wide-eyed shock and his voice is strained when he says, “Told you you should be scared of me. Just…I’m begging you, just go, okay?”

  There is a tense silence that last for a few agonizing seconds. I
want to touch him so badly, with a ferocity that scares the crap out of me. Hesitantly, I reach a hand up to his face.

  Zane backs away from my touch with insulting speed. "I'm sorry," he says quickly, seeing the hurt on my face.

  His rejection stings, leaving me confused and angry. So he thinks he can turn me on, then turn me away?

  I use the ladder to get out—after having unsuccessfully tried to hoist myself over the edge of the pool. Thanks, gods of humiliation! Like I needed that parting shot! Zane doesn't say a word as I start to walk away.

  But after a couple of shaky steps, I stop. If I leave it like this, he will continue to think of me as the scared little girl he always accuses me of being, and we'll go right back to pretending there isn't this...thing between us.

  I take a deep breath and say a prayer for courage. Then with clumsy fingers, I slowly unclasp the hook of my bra. The straps slide off my shoulders and I let it fall to the ground with a soft plop. I don't quite have the nerve to turn all the way around so he can see me. I look at him over my shoulder.

  Zane is standing very still in the hip length water, staring at me with an intensity that steals my breath away.

  I swallow thickly. "Screw your control."

  Then I walk away, forcing my hands to stay at my sides instead of covering my breasts.

  Please, please don't let me trip and fall!

  I make it to the pool house, and by then I am a quivering mass of nerves. I cross my arms over my chest and make a run for my room, my heart trying to thud its way out of my rib cage.

  I cannot believe that just happened! In my underwear! What do I do now? Do I risk running into him to take a shower? I really don't think I have the energy to face him right now, but I'm covered in chlorine. It dries the skin, you know?!

  God, that was so...

  Hot.

  I decide to take my chances and shower, but it's the fastest one of my life. I make it back to my room, where I dive into my bed and under the covers.

  I am...exhilarated, confused, angry, turned on. Why does Zane always make me feel this way? Crazy and hormonal, that is. Sometimes I am so comfortable with him, I feel like I can tell him anything. But then there's always this insane rush of emotions brewing just below the surface, when I look at him, or when he smiles at me...

  He wants me, too.

  That pesky thought runs through my head like the sweetest song. It makes me giddy.

  He wants me!

  I lie awake for a long time, listening for the sounds of Zane coming in. If he did come in that night, I am asleep before it happens.

  ******

  Chapter 13

  Zane is pissing me off!

  Okay, so it's been a couple of days since the pool incident, and out of nerves and embarrassment, I have been avoiding him—that is until I realize he's been avoiding me!

  How dare he?!

  He's been staying out late, sometimes not coming home at all. I rarely see him in the morning before school, and by the time I get home, he's gone again. The few times I manage to run into him, he is polite and distant. Our teasing arguments and easy banter are a thing of the past, and I find myself missing it—him—more than I could imagine. The tension is so thick between us, I become self-conscious of my every movement, and of his. It's like the two of us together create some kind of chemical reaction between us, both helpless to stop it, and desperate to ignore it. I'm so jumpy and awkward around him, I don't know how to cope, and I start picking fights in an attempt to illicit any kind of reaction. We argue over silly things, like who drank the last of the milk, or who left the lights on in the living room. I know—who fights over things like that, right? Old married couples, maybe.

  I am a silly teenage girl, I'll admit it, and like any other silly girl that's being ignored, I decide there's only one thing to do:

  Make him suffer.

  I don't want to be too obvious, but I do make an effort to dress up a little more around Zane. Instead of my usual old t-shirts and old jeans, I pair short skirts with cute flirty tops that show a little more cleavage than I'm usually comfortable with. But desperate times call for desperate measures. Our month together is almost up, and I’ve already packed up most of my belongings and hauled them over to Jane’s house. I feel this...nail biting urgency. I feel like if something is going to happen between us, it has to happen now, or I will lose him forever. And that's a thought I couldn't bear.

  Friday night.

  I am oddly agitated and restless. Zane is home for a change, but locked away in his room. He's barely said two words to me.

  Okay, so I have a terrible idea, and I'm trying to work up the nerve to go through with it.

  It's a really bad, really slutty idea. I should be ashamed of myself for considering it.

  I'm going to do it.

  Before I know it, I'm standing in front of his door, holding my pink towel. After taking a deep breath, I knock lightly on his door.

  Without waiting for a response, I let myself in. Zane is at his desk, doing something on his laptop. My heart stumbles when I realize he is shirtless.

  "I...uh, I'm going to shake a shower. Wait, I mean take!"

  I flush with embarrassment, but Zane barely turns around. "Go for it," he mutters indifferently.

  Son of a b!

  "Thanks!" I grunt, and stomp past him to the bathroom, slamming the door for good measure.

  I am fuming as I strip off my clothes. How dare he act like I'm nothing to him but an inconvenience! I thought—I don't know what I thought. We, at least, used to be friends. Zane would have teased me mercilessly over my awkwardness. Now he can't stand to look at me.

  Angry tears well up in my eyes, but I blink them back. I let myself relax under the spray of the steaming hot shower, taking my time washing my hair and scrubbing my skin with my coconut scented body wash.

  How long have I been in here for? Half an hour? Maybe longer. I shut off the water and reach for my fluffy pink towel. After I dry off my hair and body, I wrap the towel tightly around myself and tuck it in the front between my breasts. It's just long enough to cover my torso and graze the top of my thighs. Um. Much shorter than I anticipated.

  Well, I've managed to steam up the bathroom good. I swipe at the fogged up mirror with a hand towel and glare at my reflection. I try to practice making sexy faces, but I quickly give up, feeling completely ridiculous. Like one of those girls who uploads thirty pictures of herself making duck faces in the mirror. Why do girls do that? I make the duck, and it's not sexy at all. Creepy, maybe.

  What is Zane doing right now? Is he wondering if I've drowned in here? Is he even still in his room? I half hope not.

  Well, I can't stay in here forever—can I? I run my hands through my hair, pushing it back from my face. Gosh, I look freaked. Well, it's now or never.

  Here I go.

  Nope. Okay...and now.

  I open the door and take a tiny step out. A cloud of coconut scented steam wafts past me. Zane is still at his laptop! He doesn't turn around, but I can tell by the sudden tensing of his back and shoulders that he knows I'm there.

  I clear my throat, clutching the towel against me. "I forgot my clothes," I mumble in a way that is more mentally challenged than seductive.

  Oh, well. But I've finally gotten his attention. Zane's head comes up slowly, and I catch a glimpse of his achingly handsome profile. A tiny muscle jumps in his clenched jaw. Is he mad? The only light comes from the bathroom behind me, and the muted glow of the laptop's screen, too dim to read his expression.

  The silence yawns between us, growing until it becomes a living thing that fills the room, robbing us of our voices, and turning us to stone.

  My eyes suddenly snag on my reflection in the full-length mirror on the closet doors. I search for Zane's image, and my gaze catches his and holds. We stare at each other through the mirror for seconds that feel like a lifetime.

  I am utterly blown away by the sudden certainty that if he turns around, or if I were to go to him—to
uch the smooth curves of his back like I so badly wanted to—I would be spending the night in his bed. That dark tortured look he's giving me right now silently promises that.

  Do I want that? I don't know. I want him. God, do I want him. But what do I know about sex? I'm just a seventeen year old virgin who doesn't know how to kiss right.

  Finally, Zane tears his gaze away from mine, back to his laptop. His voice is rough and strained when he mutters, "Get dressed."

  Only he can turn me on and piss me off at the same time. Who does he think he is?! Half-naked here, and looking damn good, if I have to say so myself (obviously I do). Will he be able to maintain his indifference if I "accidentally" drop my towel right now?

  I don't, out of fear that yes, Zane would take one look at my naked body, shrug, and turn around again. Also, I would never actually do something like that. This goes way beyond my expertise. Hell, Matt—my first and only boyfriend—never even got my shirt all the way off. Zane is a man, and I know for a fact that he's gotten more than a few girls—women's—shirts off. And more.

  I am way out of my depth here. Still, I can't leave him with the last word.

  "I think I'll walk around naked for a while," I snap as I stomp past him. "You should probably stay in your room. I wouldn't want to offend you."

  I sneak a look at him out of the corner of my eye, and I could swear I see a hint of a smile. I don't stop to make sure, heading straight to my room.

  Breathing unsteadily, I don't bother to get dressed as I grab my cell phone and start tapping in a phone number. Yes, I'm angry-dialing, similar to drunk-dialing, but not as stupid because I'm able to hang up before I complete the call when I realize it's almost one in the morning. Tomorrow, then.

  It's our last night together.

  I'm in the kitchen, boiling noodles for the spaghetti I'm making for dinner tonight. I'm only half paying attention to what I'm doing, so I have serious concerns for how it will turn out.

  Where is Zane? What if he decides to stay out all night? I debate whether or not I should call him, and wisely decide I'd better not.

  I stir the noodles around so they don't get burned to the bottom, then nervously pace back and forth. This is my last chance. After tonight, I can kiss my chances goodbye, instead of kissing Zane. Once our parents get back, Zane will go back to L.A. And I'll hardly have a chance—or excuse—to see him.