Chapter 5
Wilkin
Jett and I arrive at the pool at the same time, sweaty and more than a little out of breath. I was leading the whole way, so I could have beaten him, but I relented and slowed down toward the end.
Believe it might be a form of survivor guilt.
You've taken everything I've ever wanted.
Overdramatic, sure, but he kind of has a point.
Opportunities for poor kids like us were few and far between.
A scholarship here, some financial assistance there.
I've never been out to get him, or deprive him of anything, I just did my best, and through hard work and luck, I snagged the lion's share of the few breaks available to us.
That's why he hates me, and that's why I do little things like letting him win a stupid race because whether he'd believe me or not, I hate how me winning so often has come at his expense.
"These are the smallest ones I could find," Reeve says, two bright pieces of material dangling in his fingers. "I think I might be a bit, uh, bigger than you both."
"It's fine," I say, unbuckling my belt and kicking off my shoes. "I can swim in my briefs."
"Yeah, same," Jett says, scrambling to catch up because he has to make everything into a competition.
Reeve looks at us, and I don't want to know what he's thinking. Probably that we're two lunatics, and is there any way to send us away to be someone else's problem for the summer?
We finish stripping off at the same time. I'm left standing in my white briefs, and Jett…Jesus, the body on him. He looks like he should be in an ad for the Calvins I'm wearing, all lean muscle, defined abs, and a hefty bulge protruding out the front of his burgundy boxers.
"I thought you guys worked behind the camera," Reeve says, his voice a little raspy.
"We do," I tell him.
"Right. Well, uh, we should probably get in," he says, raking a hand through his hair in a way that makes his bicep flex and his right pec lift.
The water is just the right temperature to take the heat out of my skin. I latch onto a pool noodle, close my eyes, and float blissfully for a few moments. "This feels nice."
"Right?" Reeve's voice is the perfect blend of masculine and expressive. I'd go so far as to say borderline soothing. But then he has to go ahead and ruin my just-found moment of peace by asking, "So…why do you two hate each other?"
My eyes tear open and land on Jett, silently pleading for him to take the high road, the adult road, and not get into it with someone we've only just met and have to live with.
"It's complicated," he replies, and I hold my breath, waiting to see what, if anything, he follows that up with.
His mouth opens and closes a few times, his eyes darting between me and Reeve. "Forget it," he says with a sigh, paddling over to the edge and climbing out of the pool. "You win, Wilkin," he says, snatching one of the folded towels off the lounge chair. "Like always, you win."
And with that, he disappears into the house.