Such a Sweet Girl (Hot Creeps #4)

One

ONE

FRANCESCA

T he warm breeze wafted over my sticky skin, the overhead fan merely shifting the deluge of sun-heated air around the dining room.

The sliding glass doors stood open to the outside world, the lake glittering calmly in the early morning light. A fat bug buzzed into the room, its incessant hum filling the silence between scrapes of forks as we ate in near silence.

Mother sat across from me, her hair neatly pinned back to stop in sticking to her already sweat glossed neck. The air conditioning engineer couldn’t make it until the end of the week, so we spent the days miserable, sweating like we’d run a marathon. It was half the reason I’d given into sleeping with the man next door. Exchanging some half-hearted sex for a few hours of cool air seemed fair enough to me.

Spearing a segment of sugar-dusted grapefruit, I watched as the fly landed on my father’s head. It trundled around on his perfectly gelled hair until he became aware and flapped it away.

Conversation rarely flowed amongst the three of us. More came in fits and starts, perfunctory. Never excessive. Never for fun.

I loved my parents, but I hadn’t realised how unusually quiet our home had been. I’d lacked the hustle and bustle of friends’ homes, the way siblings would badger and tease, love and hate. I’d just… existed. My parents’ love for me had never been in doubt, but it wasn’t the loud and overt love I saw amongst others. It was a stoic love filled with the weight of expectation. They worked hard to give me everything I needed in order to succeed.

Even if my wants had to be quashed to meet those expectations.

‘Francesca,’ my mother said, her words clipped. ‘Your father and I are spending a few days with Sue and John on their river boat. You should come.’

It was less of a question and more of a statement. Another expectation.

‘I’d rather stay here.’

‘In this heat? The engineer won’t be here for days. Plus, Elijah will be there.’ A rare glint shone in her eyes at the mention of her friend’s son.

I stifled a sigh, struggling not to roll my eyes. Of course Elijah would be there. Sue and John had been coming to their lake house across the water as long as we had; over a decade of balmy summers, all but the previous one. I’d wangled out of that one with some work experience. Spending my summer volunteering for our local dentist hadn’t proven any more exciting, however.

‘If I haven’t wanted to date Elijah by now, I’m pretty sure I never will. I’ll stay here while you go.’

‘So you prefer spending your afternoons with the idiot boy next door? Elijah is a doctor.’ A crinkle formed between my mother’s brows as she glared.

‘And I am twenty-two years old. I don’t need help to find a boyfriend.’

‘Is that what he is? Your boyfriend?’ My father asked, before taking a sip of coffee.

Nick wasn’t my boyfriend. I wouldn’t even go as far as friends with benefits. More a handy distraction next door. A dalliance. A little middle finger to my stuck up parents.

‘No. It’s just a summer fling. A bit of fun.’

Mother’s face twisted in distaste. As a woman who’d married at twenty and only ever been with my father, she had little time for sexual liberation. ‘It’s a distraction, Francesca. By your age I was married?—’

‘I know,’ I said, interrupting her. ‘You were married. Top of your class in dentistry school. Perfect.’

At their urging I’d followed in their footsteps, becoming a shadow of their success, always striving to catch up to a height I had no real motivation to reach. Rooting around in plaque coated mouths made my stomach turn. Even after years in college.

‘No-one expects you to be perfect. But a little decorum…’ With sharp dabs, my mother cleaned her mouth with her napkin.

‘I’ve worked so hard this year. It doesn’t come easy to me like it did to you. I’ve done nothing but study the entire year, and if I want to let off a little steam, you can’t stop me.’ I’d already lost four years to their dream for me. Spending days on a boat with the irritatingly perfect Elijah wasn’t an option. Over my sweaty rear-end.

‘We’ve walked the path you are taking,’ my father said, his tone decidedly neutral. ‘We made the same sacrifices, while working to pay our own way. All you have to do is attend. Pass. We’ve worked hard to give you an easy route through. No big college debts. No struggling to balance working to pay rent and getting to lectures.’

‘I know,’ I sighed. They’d given me everything that they’d ever wanted. And expected me to prostrate myself before them until the end of time. ‘I’m sorry. Elijah and the boat, they just aren’t for me. But go, have fun with your friends.’

‘Won’t you try the muffins?’ I asked, hoping the change in topic might ease the tension that had settled amongst the dank heat.

The sugar crystal crusted blueberry muffins sat in the middle of the table, surrounded by the fruit platters and yogurts that my parents preferred. Rising before the sun, I’d braved the heat of the oven before the morning could bring a fresh level of temperature based hell. The blueberries I’d hand picked from the local farmer’s market were near to bursting with juice, and the perfect tart accompaniment to the fluffy dough. My best yet.

My parents’ eyes shifted to the paper wrapped treats, a soft but dramatic sigh escaping my mother’s mouth.

‘Francesca, you know we don’t eat that much processed sugar. We’re dentists .’

‘You drink orange juice, and that’s packed with sugar. The muffins are homemade. A taste wouldn’t hurt. Just one bite?’ Hope surged when my dad put his phone down on the table. A bubble of excitement formed in my chest. Baking was my escape from the drudgery of my every day. Something that truly made me proud. My fellow housemates at college appreciated my treats, but to have my parents enjoy them? It would mean the world to me.

‘We don’t want your sugary bakes.’ My father’s voice held a finality that tore through my chest and pricked the little bubble of hope I’d dared to allow. ‘I’ve seen your little videos on social media. Your cousin sent them to me. You need to stop messing around like a teenager and grow up, Francesca.’

The words burned.

At my age, perhaps he had a point. I was a small fish in a very large pond online, and I hadn’t even set up a baking profile, just posted a few videos on my profile.

Perhaps they had parents who told them that what they did was worthwhile. Had someone to film for them and encourage them.

‘It’s something I love,’ I murmured, my chest feeling tight under their burning gazes.

‘Love doesn’t pay the bills.’

The lake reflected the sunlight like a giant mirror, making me squint as I traversed the tree line between our property and the neighbour’s. Taking the drive down to the path may have been the easiest solution, but my parents were on the deck. Avoiding their scrutiny would be worth a few twig-scratched ankles after the muffin put-down at breakfast.

Picking my way amongst the overgrown ferns, I saw Nick through the floor to ceiling glass patio doors. Wearing nothing but shorts, he lounged on the couch, headphones stuck to his head as usual. Being at college gave me a pretty intense view into the mind of guys my age, so his addiction to gaming wasn’t entirely surprising, but he was the first guy I’d been around who gamed even as I sat next to him.

Did he disconnect when showering? In bed? I hoped so.

The eco-friendly wax wrapped muffins teetered in my hand as I pulled myself up onto the deck. How on earth he had afforded a lake house vacation home mystified me. But we hadn’t exactly done an awful lot of talking in the past few weeks. Our romance was temporary. Why burden it with reality? At the moment, Nick could be anything. A patisserie chef who went to school in Paris. A self made tech millionaire. A celebrity who hid away in the exclusive lakeside resort to avoid his avid fans…

Beyond the glass, Nick scratched at his balls through his shorts.

Or maybe not.

Knocking on the glass, I waved. Nick smiled before tipping his head in an invitation. He didn’t pause his game.

‘Alright, sexy?’ He patted the seat beside him and gave me a wink.

Slipping off my shoes, I made my way to the kitchen, stacking the muffins onto a plate on the counter and covering them with an upturned glass bowl. They looked utterly out of place on the dirty-dish clad counter. Two empty cereal boxes lay overturned amongst the kitchen debris.

Urgh.

Closing my eyes, I let the cool air from the air conditioner swarm my sweat soaked skin. Taking a moment, I reminded myself why I was spending the summer with Nick, despite the gaming and the mess.

It feels good to be held.

It feels good to be desired.

He’s sweet. When he pays attention.

I can avoid my parents.

He eats my cakes.

He thinks I’m pretty. I think.

It wouldn’t be forever, but I’d appreciate the chapter for what it was.

Taking the couch cushion next to Nick, I planted a kiss on his cheek. He grinned. I put one muffin onto the coffee table in front of him.

‘Give me ten, babe, yeah?’

‘Sure,’ I said, pulling my phone from my pocket and settling back against the arm, pressing my feet into Nick’s lap. The easy comfort soothed me, his home so devoid of the constant pressure that mine held. Almost immediately, my shoulders relaxed.

I didn’t need every moment of Nick’s undivided attention. The solid calm was enough to sustain me.

Pulling up my feed, I scrolled through reels of my favourite bakers and pastry chefs, drooling over the delicious food they so cleverly edit together. Saving inspirational recipes and following people who I longed to be.

After a few minutes, Nick ripped the paper wrapped from the muffin, and that familiar rush of anticipation hit. The need for a kind word about something that I cared about might be pathetic, but it was undeniably a need. I needed someone to love my art.

His teeth sunk into the muffin. I waited. A groan. A sigh. Something. Anything?

‘Oh come on!’ He shouted, slamming down the muffin and madly hitting the buttons on his controller. ‘No, go wide, Ellis.’

Nothing.

Just back to his game.

Perhaps the muffins were bad. What did I know? I had no training.

Just another rock in the stomach. Another seed of doubt watered.