Not Looking For Love: Episode 1

BOOK: Not Looking For Love: Episode 1
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Contents

Title Page

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

A Note From the Author

Not Looking For Love: Episode 1

By

Lena Bourne

Kindle Edition

Copyright © 2014 Lena Bourne

Kindle Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold

or given away to other people in any form or by any means. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

CHAPTER ONE

Mom's coughs, raspy and urgent, wake me. Her room is at the far end of the hall, five doors down, yet the sound rips through my chest like she's lying right next to me. Leaving me, saying goodbye. The too many cocktails I drank at Kate's party no longer make my thoughts fuzzy, instead they buzz around in my stomach, churning, making me sick. The coughing doesn't stop, changes pitch until it sounds like she's screaming. I bolt out of bed and run to the door, the sudden movement making the room spin around me. Dad's footsteps pound down the hallway as he rushes to my mom's room, so I sit on the chair by my makeup desk and turn on the sidelights, willing the room to stop spinning.

I'd only be in the way now, if I go to my mom. Then my dad will think he has to take care of us both: comfort my mom and keep me safe. Only he can't, because my mom is dying, and there is no one who can change that. Twenty-two years old is too young to lose a mom. Cancer. Such a whimsical word for such a terrible disease. My birth sign. Bile rises in my throat as I struggle to chase the thought away, thinking of anything but that. That my birth sign is killing my mom, that I'm killing my mom. It's childish, and it's stupid to think it, but the idea still feels like I've swallowed broken glass.
 

I grab my wrist, hoping to clutch the charm bracelet she gave me on my 21
st
birthday just over a year ago. She gave me all of her jewelry for my birthday this year. Tiny charms dangle from the bracelet: a little princess, a colorful egg, and a golden coin. But all I feel is my racing pulse, a tiny ball bouncing in my vein that might break free at any moment, making me bleed out. The bracelet is gone.

I had worn it to Kate's party, since I never take it off. I'd only gone to the party for a little distraction, and because Kate's house is just next door, I could be back with my mom in a few minutes if she needed me. It was a total disaster. Brandon wouldn't stop pestering me, and he ended up throwing me in the pool for a laugh. After that, I ran home, very nearly crying.

Digging through my makeup table, I send creams and blushes, hairpins and lipsticks toppling to the ground, searching frantically for the bracelet, even though I don't remember taking it off. I run back to the bed, throwing the sheets, the pillows on the ground, checking the nightstand. The bracelet isn't anywhere.

I'm outside on the patio before I can think.
 

Mornings are chilly this late in August, and dawn has hardly broken. All I'm wearing is a white tank top and the silk boxers I sleep in. I run across the lawn barefoot, not thinking of what I may be stepping on. I have to find the bracelet; I have no time to put on shoes.
 

I crawl through the hole in the fence that separates my garden from Kate's. It's a tight fit, now that I'm no longer five years old. Chairs and towels, empty glasses and discarded clothes are still strewn across the lawn, but, thankfully, no one is around. Likely, the cold dawn chased the last of the party away. I glance up at the house to make sure no one is watching. All the windows are dark. A light reflects in the first floor windows, and I drop into a crouch reflexively, but it's just a passing car.
 

I find my dress near the pool where I took it off to take a dip. Right before Brandon tossed me in. I just left it lying there when I ran home. Everyone must think I'm completely mental now. I hope Brandon does too. Why won't he just take a hint? Brandon is Kate's brother, and since she's like a sister to me, he's like a brother to me. I can't be dating my brother. Besides he's the love 'em and leave 'em type, and all he can give me is a broken heart. Like he did with his last five girlfriends. As if my heart could take any more breaking.

I look around, tossing things aside, not caring where they land, hoping to find the bracelet. It's not anywhere. The sun's not up yet, but birds are chirping something awful all around me, and the sky is more white than grey now. Dawn is my favorite time of day. I love watching the colors of the sky change from inky black to grey to lilac blue and finally yellow, the new day being born, bringing new hope. Today, I just wish the sun would come up.

If the bracelet is not in the grass, it might be in the pool. The thought of going back in the water makes me shiver, but my desperation to get the bracelet back right away is stronger.
 

I ease myself off the side of the pool in roughly the spot where I went in before, feet first, trying not to make any sound that could wake Kate's family. It's like slow torture to do it that way, and my whole body cramps up, but the last thing I need is to cause a panic. I could just go back home and come back once the sun is up, but I can't. I need that bracelet, or else I won't sleep.

The cold water grips my body like a vice and I take shallow breaths until the worst of the pain passes. The lights in the pool are off already, they're connected to the porch lights, and someone thoughtfully turned them all off after the party ended. Too thoughtfully. I could really use those lights right now.

After a final deep breath, I submerge my head, fighting the overwhelming urge to gasp as the cold water goes straight to my brain, which is what it feels like. I can almost see the steam coming off, but at least my heart is no longer pounding. I let myself float on the surface, scanning the floor of the pool. Lucky really, that Kate's pool is saltwater. I can float, eliminating the need to tread water to keep myself on the surface.

Shadows play upon the mosaic floor of the pool, all blues, whites, yellows, and pinks. I turn slightly to adjust my angle of view. No silver gleams against the tiles anywhere. I only come up for air once my lungs start burning and dip my face back in immediately. Grey is giving way to white in the sky now, so the visibility should soon improve. I'm enjoying the silence, the serenity of floating in the water, with my long hair plastered down my ears, blocking out the chirping birds.

The eerie silence is almost like diving, only without the crushing weight of the water pressing against me. But I can't see my bracelet anywhere, and no doubt the servants will be out cleaning up soon. I adjust my angle again and am just about to come up for more air when something grabs my waist and flips me over in the water.
 

I scream and flail, gulp water instead of air, with visions of a shark attacking vivid in my mind. Beating and kicking, I paddle hard to get out of the water, my hair obscuring my vision.

Whatever grabbed me is no longer touching me, but I kick back to the side of the pool frantically anyway, still coughing, still seeing nothing. My knuckles collide with the wall of the pool, but I ignore the pain, scraping my knees as I struggle out of the water. My arms are shaking so badly I can't lift myself up to get out of the pool

"Calm the fuck down!" a man yells behind me. "You'll hurt yourself. It's alright."

He places his hands on my hips and lifts me from the water.

I'm panting now, but at least I'm not swallowing water anymore. I brush my hair from my eyes and stand up, though my legs are shaking so hard I'll probably just topple back down even if I succeed.

The guy is still in the water, eyeing me like I'm insane. "Are you alright?"

I nod as I finally manage to stand.
 

He hoists himself from the water in one fluid motion. His white t-shirt is plastered against his chest, and his grey pants hug his legs tightly. He's all muscle, from his biceps, to his shoulders, chest, and stomach that ripples in a neat six-pack. And not those chiseled for-show muscles that otherwise thin guys have. He's bulky, twice as wide as any guy I know. Even his legs. No wonder he had no problem tossing me out of the pool.

"Are you alright?" he asks again, standing right in front of me now.

I quickly look up into his face, hoping he didn't notice me checking him out before. He can't be much older than me, I see now. His short blond hair looks black near his scalp, but stands up in light colored spikes all over his head. His eyes are either blue or grey—the kind of eyes that change color according to the light. And deep. I could stare at his eyes all day long just to see what I could see.

"Are you high?" he asks. I shake my head a little too sharply and feel my boobs bounce around under my tank. My wet white tank, which isn't covering me up at all right now if the state of his shirt is anything to go by. A thought to cover myself up flitters through my mind, but it's distant and sounds ridiculous.
 

His eyes leave my face and travel down, taking me in. He likes what he sees, and I can feel it. It's like his gaze is fire, and whatever he's thinking is bringing my blood to a boil, warming me.

His eyes return to my face, my parted lips. His are slightly parted too, like he's breathing hard, but I don't hear it.
 

"What were you doing in the pool? You scared me to death," he says, his eyes soft now, and his lips curl into a sheepish grin. "I thought you were dead."

I shake my head again, this time catching my boobs under my arm. "I thought I lost something in the pool. My bracelet... but I can't find it."

He turns back to the pool. The ripples from my flight have still not died down completely, and the surface is an opaque white now, reflecting the sky.

"I doubt you'll find it in there, not now at least. Wait 'til the sun comes up, maybe," he says and shrugs like he doesn't think I'll ever find it.

"I have to find the bracelet," I say too loudly, too shrilly.
 

He holds his hands up like he's wading me off. "Alright, alright, I'm just saying, wait 'til the sun comes up."

I look up at the sky, checking to see if the sun is anywhere near up. "Everyone will be up by then."

He smiles at me again. "I can help you look, I guess."

I let my arms fall to my sides and turn to the pool. My boobs bounce and that hungry look is back in his eyes. They look brown now, almost black. It's like he's touching me with his look, and my nipples, erect and clearly visible through my tank prickle like he'd just run his fingers over them. A ball of heat erupts between my legs, heavy and urgent. Somehow, all I can think of are his arms around my hips, and his cock, so plainly outlined by his wet pants, pressing into me. I really want to go for another dip in the pool with him. I can't remember any other guy ever turning me on so fast, so hard.

"Gail!" Brandon's whiny voice rips through my fantasy of me and this pool boy entwined in the water. "What's happening? Is he harassing you?"

Brandon's footsteps thump through the grass toward us, and the pool boy takes a step away from me, crossing his arms over his chest. I mimic his motion, and face away from Brandon. Likely, his yells have awoken the whole house. A dark shadow passes over the pool boy's eyes, and he's staring at Brandon, but he stays quiet.

"I'm fine," I say and turn to Brandon. He picks up a towel and wraps it around my shoulders, keeping his arm there too like he owns me.

"Your girlfriend lost something," the pool boy says. "You should keep a better eye on her."

I shake off Brandon's arm. "I'm not his girlfriend."

Somehow, it's very important that the pool boy knows this. Softness flashes across his eyes but is gone again in an instant.
 

He turns and walks toward the gardening tools he tossed on the ground by the pool when he thought he had to save me.
 

I take a step after him, my arm stretched out like I want to pull him back. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I was warm before, when he was looking at me, and now I'm cold.

I cover the gesture by wrapping the towel tighter around myself. "Do you need some dry clothes? I can bring you something."

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