Wanting

Chapter 3

Four Years Earlier

I n the spring of my senior year in high school, an envelope arrived in the mail. The paper was thick and cream-colored, like a wedding invitation. I’d been hovering over the mailbox for college acceptance letters, and the envelope caught me off-guard.

Inside was an invitation to the graduation party of a boy I’d never heard of. It was a lavish event, taking place over a weekend in the Hamptons. Convinced there’d been a mistake, I slipped my fingers into the envelope to find a scrap of paper. A few words covered it, quick and dashed off.

MEET ME THERE, ANDIE. I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT YOU.

WILL

Heat stained my cheeks and trickled down my neck. I quickly folded the scrap of paper.

I hadn’t spoken to Will since the day of the family argument at my house. But sometimes, late at night, I thought about being in the woods with him, the sharp scent of the pines and the gold light slanting through the branches, his hand on my cheek, so unreal that it was like a dream. And I tracked him furtively on social media, drinking in his clear green eyes and the curl of brown hair on his forehead, his high cheekbones and sensuous lips. I gossiped about his posts with my best friend, Ivy, while we stayed late at school to work on the newspaper.

“He’s so rich, it’s sickening.” Ivy’s eyes flicked from Will’s latest post to the computer screen where she was copy editing an article on next year’s cafeteria updates. “And here I am, worrying about prices being hiked a dollar for lunch, even though we’re about to graduate.”

“Yeah. Sickening.” I cradled my phone, glancing at Will’s gleaming smile and tanned shoulders as he stood shirtless on the deck of a yacht. Quickly, I dug in my backpack. “Hey, look at this.”

“What?” Ivy’s eyes widened as she read the invitation to the Hamptons. “Bryce Wingard the third wants you to come celebrate? Andie, what have you been hiding from me?”

“Nothing!” I protested. “Will asked me to come. It must be a friend of his.”

“You have to go.” Ivy dropped the invitation and grabbed my hands. “Go and report back on everything. It’s your sacred duty.”

“Even better…” I pulled a notebook out of my backpack, my preferred mode for getting down ideas. “I’ll write an article about it. Can you imagine all the crazy excesses at this party? I’ll call it…‘The Care and Feeding of the Rich.’”

“Yes, girl! A tell-all exposé — right here in the school paper. If you’re fast, you can squeeze it into the last edition of the year. People will eat it up.”

“Maybe I can even pitch it to other publications,” I said excitedly. Writing helped me focus, a way to make sense of a mixed-up world and mixed-up feelings. Observing and reporting gave me a job to do, made me feel safe. “Now I have a reason to go. Without…”

“Without?”

Saying I want to. “Never mind.” Blushing, I closed my notebook and slid it into my backpack. I didn’t even know if I actually wanted this. I felt compelled to see Will, whether I liked it or not.

* * *

My mother wasn’t happy. Her lips went thin when I showed her the invitation, and she rubbed her temples.

“You’re eighteen. It’s your choice. But please, Andie, be careful. You have a good head on your shoulders. Don’t do anything that makes you uncomfortable.”

My father insisted that this was a long-overdue gesture from Rose and her family to make peace and help us out. I should accept it without question. He and my mom descended into another fight, and I put on my headphones.

Two weeks later, I was on a train to the Hamptons. My overnight bag held the only formal dress I owned. I’d bought it with prom in mind, but Ivy had convinced me to ditch our senior prom for a concert.

The dress was a final sale and couldn’t be returned. At least I had a place to wear it now.

A black town car was waiting when I stepped off the train. The driver wore a suit and sunglasses.

“Miss Baker?” he asked.

Will had told me someone would pick me up at the station. I’d expected one of his friends — a teenager. I nodded at the driver, speechless, and followed him to the gleaming black car.

Dazzled and self-conscious, I kept my knees together in the spacious backseat, inhaling the clean-car scent. My tank top was wilted, and I tried to fluff it up. The driver didn’t make conversation. I scribbled a few notes: Driver in a suit to pick me up. Spotless car. Free water bottles in the back. No idea what’s happening next.

He delivered me to a sprawling white house and sped away. As I stood on the front steps, trying to get my bearings, my cousin opened the door.

Will had lengthened and sharpened. My gaze flicked to his lean tallness, his defined cheekbones and jaw. Photos didn’t do him justice.

Clear green eyes gazed into mine. “You’re here. And you’re all grown up.”

Should I give him a hug? He looked too beautiful, too dangerous to touch.

“So are you.” Cautiously, I reached up to hug him around the shoulders. For a brief moment, Will looked surprised. Then his smile broadened, teeth gleaming, and he pulled me into an embrace.

Our bodies were much closer than I’d expected. He smelled so good, warm cedar and spice. One hand splayed between my shoulder blades, and my breasts were suddenly pressed against his chest.

“Um, Will,” I began, hot and flustered. Just as suddenly, he let go.

“Come on, little cousin.” Taking my bag in one hand, and my hand in the other, he pulled me into the house. “I’ll show you a good time.”

The pressure of his fingers on mine, the heat of his palm on my palm, stayed with me through swimming and sunning by the sparkling pool, meeting the dozens of other people — all effortlessly beautifully, all our age — who filled the house. There were no older adults, except for a few efficient and unobtrusive people whom Will explained to me were the staff.

I tried to keep track of names and identifying traits for my article. It wasn’t easy. The bright colors, the fine fabrics, the clink of ice and the freshness of the food, the laughter and heat, the mingling of sunscreen and perfume, acted like a drug. And Will, most of all Will, crowded my consciousness, blotting out my thoughts.

He stayed by my side, his tanned arm draped across the back of my pool chair, which kept me off-balance. Sometimes he tucked my hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my neck. Boys and girls flocked to him. He introduced me simply as “Andie.” Not “my cousin.” No one asked how we knew each other; there was a finality to Will’s voice that didn’t invite questions. Their speculative stares slid over me.

Bryce Wingard III, the reason for this party, came over to shake my hand. He was broad and short-haired and hearty in pink swim trunks, and he told me Will was “something else.” When I asked him what he meant, he laughed.

“Trust Will to bring someone new,” he said to the people crowding round. “It’s good to have fresh blood.”

“Fresh blood?” I murmured to Will.

“Everyone knows everyone,” he told me. “Everyone knows about everyone. Everyone’s fucked everyone.”

“Seriously?” I crossed my legs, acutely aware of his gaze, hoping for material for my article. “Or are you just trying to shock me?”

Will only smiled.

The rest of the guests were polite to me, though not friendly. With each other, the laughter flowed and the smiles were bright, but there was an undercurrent to their conversation, a casual callousness. They gossiped about everybody who wasn’t there, and everybody who was there but out of earshot, and swiped knowing digs at each other that seemed to constitute an ongoing game of one-upmanship.

But their stories sparkled, like the pool and the air and the subtle, glinting jewelry that the girls wore with their swimsuits.

“Lemonade?” Will put an icy glass in my hand. The sun was setting, flooding the sky with hot pink and fiery orange. People were retreating from the pool, heading inside to change for the evening.

“Thanks.” My throat was dry. I took a sip and spluttered, coughing at the tart burn. “More like vodka with a squeeze of lemon.”

“Too much for you, little cousin?” His voice was a caress. His fingers curled around the glass below mine, warm from the run.

“I like to know what I’m drinking before I taste it.” I pushed my hair back, feeling too hot with Will standing only inches away. “Why do you keep calling me little cousin?”

“Because you’re little,” he said softly. “And you’re my cousin.”

“But you’re not telling anyone we’re related. Is it a secret?”

“Mmm.” He smiled slightly, his eyes dipping down. He was staring. At my lips. My throat. My breasts, the swells slight but apparent in my dark blue swimsuit.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Because.” His eyes met mine. “I want to.”

I stepped back quickly, letting go of the glass of lemony vodka. Will had been holding it too, but not tightly. It smashed on the patio, shards of glass and ice and liquid spreading out.

“Oh no.” I covered my mouth. “I’ll get a mop — and paper towels — do you know where…?”

“Don’t touch it.” When Will’s eyes met mine, they were dark as wet stones, the green almost gone as the sun slipped below the horizon. “The staff will clean it up.”

“But—”

“Go get changed, Andie. Don’t worry. I’ll see you soon.”

I fled inside and upstairs, squeezing past a knot of girls who were rushing down, chattering a mile a minute. They flowed around me like the tide around a rock. Their dresses were pale and simple, whispers of Easter egg colors, showing bronzed shoulders and legs, tasteful in what they covered.

I thought of the dress I’d brought, and panic bloomed in my belly.

Material, I told myself as I found a softly glowing bathroom and shut the door. It’s all material for your article. The care and feeding of the rich.

Digging in my bag, I pulled out the dress. The shiny purple satin rustled. The dress was cocktail-length, low-cut and ruched, with twinkling rhinestones lining the straps.

I took a deep breath. I’d dreamed of going to prom in this dress, like a princess, even if I didn’t have a date. Here, it was all wrong. Too much, too loud, too cheap-looking. Worst of all, it was a size too small. I was petite, but this was the only size left on the rack, and the dress had seemed too beautiful, the price too right, to pass up.

The deep breath wasn’t just for courage; it was so I could zip the dress up. The zipper stuck before I reached the top. I couldn’t close the last few inches. My small breasts spilled out of the cups in the bodice, my pink nipples almost peeking above the soft satin. The fabric was tight around my hips, the hem ending well above my knees.

I could barely breathe.

Why had I thought this dress was a good idea? I never showed off my body. I lived in loose clothes, peasant blouses and jeans, thrift-store finds.

The bathroom had a large, high window that looked out onto the rolling backyard, like it gave the owner satisfaction to see without being seen, to do their private business while observing others. I couldn’t stand to look at myself in the mirror, so I pressed my face to the glass.

Girls filled the backyard, dressed all alike, dots of light that flitted like fireflies. Backing away, I buried my face in my hands, trying to find the courage to go out there.

There was a knock at the door.

“Andie?” said my cousin’s voice. He sounded light and unconcerned, as if nothing had happened outside.

“Yes,” I squeaked. The door pushed open. “Will!” I covered my breasts with my hands. “I could have been using the bathroom—”

“Fun.” Green eyes scanned me, and my blush deepened. Will closed the door behind him, leaning against it like a panther about to pounce. “I bet you’re cute when you pee.”

“Don’t even.” My voice came out sharp. “I can’t go out like this. The dress — it doesn’t fit. I can’t zip it up.”

“Let me see.” His fingers circled my wrists, easing them away from my breasts.

“Will, no.”

“Let me see, Andie.” His tone held every expectation of being obeyed.

“Oh God.” I flushed, yielding to his hands, as my cleavage was exposed. My hands had crumpled the cups of the bodice against my breasts, so my nipples didn’t show anymore. But Will’s gaze was intimate. His eyes flickered at my quick intake of breath, traveling over my collarbone, my heaving chest.

“I’m showing so much,” I whispered. “I never show this much.” Where did I get the courage to talk that way? Maybe because Will was my cousin, it felt okay.

He gave me a gleaming smile. “We can’t have that, can we? No one else should know about all those sweet freckles you have.” Stepping behind me, he zipped up the last few inches, quick and deft. The fabric hugged me tightly, straining at my torso, driving my awareness higher. “Now let’s fix the front.”

Moving to stand before me, he adjusted the cups of my bodice. When his fingers brushed the tops of my breasts, I gasped. My nipples immediately hardened, aching. An accident. It must have been an accident.

I dared to look into his eyes. They shone like the green of new leaves in spring, intense and darkening at the center.

“So tight,” he said softly. “It fits you like a glove.” I shook my head, bowing my face so my hair fell forward. A large hand stroked up and down my back, making my breath catch.

“It’s all wrong,” I whispered. “I should go change. But I don’t have anything like what the other girls are wearing.”

“Sshhh,” Will murmured. “You look fine.”

“Only fine?” The way he was rubbing my back made my head go light.

His laugh was knowing. “Keep it on, Andie.”

“Why?”

“Because I say so.” He spoke with casual authority. “I like you like this. Don’t change.”

My blood pulsed hard and fast as we exited the bathroom and descended the staircase. The house was quiet, but laughter and music swirled in from outside.

“Will, I’m really uncomfortable right now.”

He took my hand, and I sucked in a breath when he slid his fingers through mine. “I know. I’ll take care of you.”

His eyes were green and liquid and did nothing to dispel my fears. “The girls here are mean. So are the boys.”

“They are, aren’t they?” He grinned.

“It’s like the air they breathe. They don’t even have a reason to be. They have so much.”

He pressed his lips to my ear. “Why do you think they’re mean? When they have so much?”

His breath tickled my ear. His lips were soft and teasing. I opened my mouth to answer, but whatever I was going to say flew out of my mind when he rubbed his thumb in circles over my palm.

“Let’s have fun,” he murmured. “Stick with me and no one will bother you.”

Outside, the patio was bright with lanterns and Will’s beautiful friends milling around. Music floated through the air. Some people were dancing.

I was wearing purple high heels that matched my dress, and I teetered on the patio, taking small steps. Will took my arm, steering me toward the center of the patio.

“Wait.” I hung back, acutely aware of how my dress stood out in the crowd.

“Did you come here to hide, Andie?”

I stared at him. “No. I mean, I — I came here to learn things.”

His smile was bright. “Like I said, let’s have fun.”

He pulled me right into the center of the patio, wrapping his arms around me. Color and noise and what felt like a hundred eyes surrounded us. I tried to move to the music. Cautiously, my hands settled on my cousin’s shoulders. My heart thudded in my chest.

“I can barely breathe in this dress.”

“What are you saying?” Will ran his palms lazily up and down my back. Tingles shot through me.

I squinted at him. “I’m saying that it’s tight.”

“And you want me to do something about it?”

I swallowed. “Can you? You…did say you’d take care of me.”

He laughed. “Sure. I can unzip it for you right now.”

“Will!”

“You want that?” He winked at me. “You want me to take it off your sweet body?”

“No!” I gasped.

“I understand.” He bent to murmur in my ear. “You’d rather have privacy. I did say I’d take care of you. How about I take you into the house, lock the door, and strip you naked?”

“God, Will! What is wrong with you?” I gripped his collar. As his hands closed over my hips, a bright spark flared in his eyes that I couldn’t read.

“I’m joking, little cousin. But I don’t think you want it to be a joke.”

“Stop it,” I whispered. My tongue was thick in my throat, and I was wet between my thighs.

Will laughed. “Come on, Andie. Let's dance.”

Somehow, we did. People pressed close around us, laughing and shouting and grinding, but Will’s arms were locked around me, the eye in the center of a hurricane. One hand moved up — oh God — to wrap around the back of my neck.

My palms found his shoulders. I sought his eyes, trying to think straight. “What are you doing?” His arms tightened, pulling me even closer. “Will, I’m so—”

“So what, Andie?” His eyes fixed on mine with eerie intensity.

Disoriented. Overwhelmed. Wet.

“I feel like I’m in a dream.”

“Enjoy it.” His lips brushed my forehead, and then our bodies were up against each other. His lean, wiry frame seemed to touch every part of me. His muscles flexed, sinewy. My breasts pressed fully into his chest, my nipples tingling. My clit — aching.

I clutched his shoulders, feeling them move through his shirt, trying to keep from melting into him. When a hard bulge brushed my belly, shock burst through me. I saw myself taking notes, reporting to Ivy: then I felt my cousin’s penis.

“Will!” I hissed, tensing.

“Sshhh, Andie.” He held me firmly.

This was wrong. So wrong. But maybe it really was a dream. The ridge of his erection pressing into me, strong and insistent. The music wrapping around us, the crisp light scent of his cologne. Will’s voice in a haze, his lips against my hair, his teasing whispers floating over me.

“You’re a little slut, aren’t you? You’re enjoying this.”

Panic flared through my body. He couldn’t be saying that. It wasn’t possible. I’d misheard him.

Even so, shameful desire washed over me, because his words made my panties damp.

“Slut,” I thought I heard him whisper, stroking my hair, kneading my waist, grazing my ass.

The last time I seemed to hear it, I almost came. I shuddered in his embrace, my legs turning to jelly, locking my arms around his neck, his strength the only force holding me up.

“Time to go inside.” Will’s voice, at a normal volume, broke my daze. I clung to his hand, following him unsteadily into the house.

The bright lights and voices inside woke me up. “I need to go to the bathroom,” I said quickly.

Will gave me his gleaming smile. “I’ll take you, Andie.”

I flushed, self-conscious, as he walked me to the nearest bathroom. When I slipped inside, I found a white and gold outer powder room with two girls putting on lipstick. Someone was using the bathroom beyond.

“Hi,” said one of the girls. “You’re Andie, right?”

I nodded, surprised.

The other girl leaned in. Her eyes were bloodshot. She wrapped a warm arm around my shoulders, smelling of perfume.

“You look like Will,” she rasped.

“What? No, I don’t.”

“It’s the eyes. Are you related? Someone said you were related. I think you are.”

“Oh, shut up, Beth,” the first girl said. “She always wants a scandal,” she told me.

My stomach lurched. “No scandal here, I promise.” The door to the bathroom pushed open, and another girl stumbled out.

“Lauren!” shrieked Beth. “Did I see you go into the bushes with Jensen?”

I wove behind Lauren and into the bathroom, shutting the door before I could learn who Jensen was and whether they’d gone in the bushes. My heart was pounding hard enough to vibrate my throat.

I wanted so badly to be an adult. Childhood had been awkward; I stayed quiet, watching others live their lives, scribbling my thoughts in notebooks, retreating to the woods that bordered our property so I could dream. Now I was eighteen — graduating high school next week. Ivy and I talked about being independent, making our mark. How great it would be to be out in the world.

But I’d never kissed anyone, other than a forgettable seventh-grade game of Spin the Bottle. No one had ever touched my body the way Will did. I’d never danced so close to a boy.

Never ached for another person like this.

He was my cousin.

My panties were soaked and useless. Desperately, I started to pull them down so I could throw them away. But going without panties could be even worse. Pulling them back up, I did my best to get clean, but the scent of my arousal clung to me as I hurried out to the powder room and washed my hands.

Will was waiting for me outside the door. He took my hand. It felt right and wrong, hot and cold. My heart was ready to burst out of my chest.

“I got worried, with you in there so long.” His slow glance took in my disheveled red hair and flushed cheeks. “Don’t make me worry, Andie. I don’t like it.”

Bringing my hand to his face, he inhaled deeply.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

His smile was so bright. “Someone’s been a bad girl.”

“What do you mean?”

Still smiling, still holding my hand close to his face, he grazed my knuckles with his teeth. “You know what I mean.”

My cheeks were scalding hot, my mind working frantically as Will took me into the living room. A bad girl? What the hell did he— Oh.

He smelled…me. My scent. The dampness on my underwear as I’d pulled them down.

I wanted to sink into the floor.

But he couldn’t possibly—

The living room was full, and all the furniture was white. Candles flickered, the lights low. Music played, loud, vying with the voices.

“Will!” Some guy roared from a couch. “Saved you a seat.”

There was exactly one spot open on the couch beside him, with room for one person. One lean, lithe person. Every other available space was covered and squished with people.

I followed awkwardly as Will led me to the couch. He settled himself down, stretching out his long legs, and patted his lap, looking up at me expectantly.

He couldn’t be serious. I kept hearing Beth’s voice in the powder room. You’re related, aren’t you?

But no one was paying attention, there was nowhere else to sit, and I wanted to stay close to Will in here. He was my only connection.

Nervously, I perched on his lap.

“That’s a girl.” He pulled me close, wrapping an arm around my waist.

There were drinks. There was cocaine. I’d never done it, never seen it outside of movies, never tried anything harder than pot with Ivy, twice. But I recognized the white powder on the glass coffee table that the people around us scraped into lines with razor blades and snorted through a rolled-up dollar bill.

Material. It’s all material for your article. Just watch and observe.

I was detached. I was a reporter. I wouldn’t be scared.

I tried to find a decent position on Will’s lap, but my tight dress hampered my movements. He pulled me firmly against him, my back to his chest.

“You’re uncomfortable,” he murmured. “Let’s fix that.”

There was a tug at my back. Inch by inch, my zipper came down.

“Will!” I protested. But sweet relief rushed in. I could finally, fully breathe.

He laughed. “Stay here. No one will know but us.” His hand was on my thigh, gently rubbing. Sparks shot upward, concentrating in my crotch.

My dress was fully unzipped now. The back was hidden by Will as I leaned against his chest. My front was covered, but the purple satin cups puckered around my small breasts, exposing the soft slopes.

“It’s time, Andie,” Will murmured, his lips grazing my ear. “It’s our time.”

Holding me firmly around the waist, he leaned forward to accept a dollar bill, rolled into a tube. The hard ridge of his erection pressed against my ass. His free hand played with my hair, running his fingers through the tangled red strands.

It was too much. It was all too much.

My stomach was tight and knotted and I didn’t know what to do with myself except jump up and push through all the glittering, bright-eyed people to dash out the door and into the open air.

I held my dress to my chest as I ran.

Beyond the pool, the patio and the tennis courts, the line of lights faded into darkness and whispering trees. Woods edged this property — the only thing it had in common with my home.

I darted between oaks and sycamores. That felt safer. Among trees, I could breathe. I might be miles away from my own life and everything I knew, but in a forest, I was on familiar ground. Even though my innocent hope of running away with Will at age fifteen seemed young and silly now.

But when I slowed, doubled over and panting for breath, footsteps sounded behind me. A branch cracked. I jumped and whirled to face Will.

He closed the distance and put his hands on my waist.

“Relax, Andie,” he murmured.

“You’re high. You just snorted cocaine.”

A sardonic smile flickered across his face. “I didn’t get the chance. I was too busy chasing after my cousin. I’d hate for anything to happen to you out here.”

I flushed. “I don’t belong in your world. I shouldn’t have come.”

His smile faded. “But you accepted my invitation. You knew this would be new. Different. You wanted that, didn’t you?”

I stared down at his hands circling my waist, my heart still pounding. “Why’d you invite me, Will?”

“To do you a favor. Give you a break from your sad little life.”

“You know nothing about my life!” I gasped.

“You said a forest is your friend.”

“That was three years ago!” I protested, amazed that he remembered. “And you obviously didn’t like your life either, because you wanted to run away!”

Will blinked. “That was then. We were kids.”

Embarrassment washed over me. Of course he hadn’t meant it. Who would want to run away from so much luxury and privilege?

His stance shifted, his feet spreading further apart. Making him bigger. “Why’d you say yes, Andie?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, you do.” He caught my chin in his hand. “Tell me.”

“I was curious,” I whispered. “I like stories; I like to observe. I wondered about your world.”

“Is that all?” His grip was steady, his voice mild. In the dark, his green eyes were narrowed like a panther’s.

I hated him, all of a sudden. How dare he call my life sad? And little?

“I’m here for material,” I flung in his face.

“Material?” His brow furrowed.

“For a newspaper article. ‘The Care and Feeding of the Rich.’ A tell-all about your stupid excesses and your mean jokes and how you can’t even clean up your own spilled drinks. You’re a bunch of spoiled babies.”

His face worked. For a second, he looked stunned, like I’d slapped him. Then his teeth bared, and he laughed at me. “You wish. You're salivating, Andie. I've practically seen the spit running down your chin all day. You're fucking wet for wealth.”

“Shut up! I don't care about that.”

“Sure you do. The care and feeding of the rich? You’re dying for it. I’ll show you how to feed the rich.” He pulled me toward him.

“Stop it! I hate you.”

“Oh no, Andie. No, you don’t.”

I pushed angrily on his chest. “You know nothing about me or my life. You didn’t ask me a single thing about myself all day.”

“Well, you didn’t ask me anything either.”

I stared at him. “Did you want me to?”

Will said nothing.

“What do you want from me, Will?”

Again, silence.

“I didn’t just come for an article,” I muttered, the words pulled out of me. “I wondered about — you. I want to understand. To know. I don’t even know what I want to know.”

“Mmm.” His voice softened, his eyes growing hooded. His thumb stroked my cheek.

“Will, I —”

“Always the observer, Andie. Always standing back and watching. That’s your life, isn’t it? Have you ever let anyone get close? Have you ever let anyone do…this?”

His head bent towards mine. He kissed me.

Shocks ran through my body when our mouths met. I clutched the lapels of his jacket. His hands were in my hair, tilting my head as I tasted him with a jolt. He was patient and predatory and much too good with his lips and tongue.

He wasn’t like the high school boys who made me roll my eyes. He seemed worldly. Older. Too old for his age.

Finally, I broke free.

“Will,” I whispered. “That was my first kiss.”

“Nice.” His teeth flashed white in the dark, just before his mouth covered mine again.

“Oh my God, Will, you have to stop,” I said desperately.

“Why?” Little kisses, running together, getting deeper. His palm held the back of my neck. His lips were soft and warm and his tongue kept flicking mine like it had every right to.

I tore away. “Because.”

He caught me and pulled me so close that our bodies touched. My heart thudded, jagged and excited. “That’s not an answer.”

“You know we can’t.”

He gripped my arms, making me shiver. “Stay, little cousin. Stay and I’ll show you everything you’re wondering about.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

Had he lost his mind? Was he talking about sex? While calling me little cousin? A disturbing curl of excitement coiled through my belly and between my legs.

I twisted free and backed away. “I’m leaving. I’m going home first thing tomorrow.”

Anger flashed across his face, followed by a lazy smile. “So you’re running away.”

“Will, I have news for you.” I tried to keep my voice steady. “You can’t get everything you want.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said softly. “So very wrong. I always get what I want.”

I turned and ran. A treacherous part of me hoped he’d follow. Hoped he’d chase me down, wrestle me to the ground, and show me just how serious he was. How he always got what he wanted.

But if I’d been scared before, I was terrified now. Not to mention angry. At myself, at these strange new feelings, at Will.

“We’re not done, Andie.” His voice followed me. “You know we’re not.”

* * *

That night, I touched myself and thought of him. Tangled in the bedsheets in a room I shared with three other girls, I was still and quiet. I hoped no one would see.

When I came, I buried my face in the pillow. It was so much more intense, thinking of Will. So wrong. So…forbidden.

I didn’t even like him.

Yet when I heard him whispering Someone’s been a bad girl, it sent me over the edge.

* * *

The next morning, I got up early, dressed and packed in silence, and tiptoed downstairs. I wanted to avoid seeing my cousin or anyone else, and I had to figure out how to get to the train station.

I was surprised to see a middle-aged woman making breakfast. She greeted me with a calm “Good morning” and made a short phone call.

“Your car will be here soon, miss,” she said. “Would you like breakfast before you go?”

“My car?” I looked around the kitchen and back to her, confused.

“Arrangements have been made.”

By Will? I wondered. Why would he help me, after I’d run from him last night? Was he going to say goodbye? Did I even want his help? My stomach clenched.

The woman gestured toward a bubbling coffee maker. “Coffee?”

The aroma filled the kitchen. Too startled to say no, I accepted a cup with cream and thanked her. Everything about this situation was surreal. She declined my offer to help with breakfast, looking amused, and glanced out the front windows.

“Your ride is here. This is for you.” She handed me an envelope that said Andie on the front. “Safe travels.”

“I don’t understand.”

A flicker crossed her face. “Take care,” was all she said, her expression going neutral.

I wondered how she felt about working here, in the midst of a bunch of debauched teenagers. I wondered if she’d cleaned up my spilled drink and smashed glass by the pool the night before, and I thought about apologizing. But the words stuck in my throat, and I hurried outside with my duffel bag and the envelope.

The town car waited at the curb, with the same driver who’d brought me from the station. Crisply dressed in a dark suit, he opened the back door for me.

“Do you know what time the next train is?” I asked, as the car purred away from the curb. “They probably don’t run this early on Saturdays…”

My voice trailed off as the driver gave me a strange look in the rearview mirror. “My instructions are to take you home.”

“Home? But that’s over two hours away.”

“Those are my instructions.”

“But I’m sure that’s really expensive. I can’t— I’m sorry, I can’t afford it.”

His eyebrows lifted. The same amused expression crossed his face that I’d seen on the housekeeper when I’d offered to help with breakfast.

“Don’t worry, miss. It’s been taken care of.”

“By who?” I blurted.

“I’m not at liberty to say. Please make yourself comfortable.”

I ripped open the envelope. Inside was a piece of actual ivory-colored stationery with an embossed monogram. I scoffed when I saw WHR — Will’s initials, William Henry Randolph — but the laughter died on my lips when I read what followed.

You look sexy when you run, little cousin.

Heat rushed to my face.

I shouldn’t accept this ride. If I did, I’d be implying that I accepted Will. His kisses, his touches, the sick thrill when he called me little cousin.

“The next train leaves at noon, if you were wondering,” said the driver. “They’re not too frequent on the weekends.”

It was eight o’clock. Waiting for four hours at the train station held no appeal. Staying in the same town as Will for that long — I couldn’t stand it.

I folded up the note and held it tightly in my hand.

“I’m fine with a ride home,” I murmured. “Thanks.”

* * *

When “The Care and Feeding of the Rich” was published, it caused a stir in my high school newspaper. Encouraged, I sent it to online publications. It was snapped up, and I got paid for it — the first money I earned from writing.

I changed all the names and left out the identifying details. Will was described as “a family friend.” I didn’t say a word about his attentions to me. According to the article, I was a fly on the wall, ignored and forgotten as I observed and recorded the hijinks of a bunch of rich kids.

Still, the article blazed with a fire that I couldn’t recapture in anything else I wrote.

Impulsively, I texted the link to Will. He never replied.

I did, however, receive a cease-and-desist letter from Uncle Richard’s lawyers. The letter was polite and civil and stated that under no uncertain terms was I ever to publish material about any member of the family again.

Had Will shown the article to his parents? Could they really take legal action against me if I wrote about him, however well-disguised?

Had I done something wrong? Dangerous? Or simply stupid?

Had I hurt Will?

Had he done this to hurt me?

I was eighteen. I didn’t care to find out. I didn’t show the letter to my parents, or Ivy. I told no one. But that letter took my sparkling ambitions and doused them like a flame in icy water.

Three months later, I left for college. I burned the letter. Ivy and I drifted apart, caught up in our lives at different schools. As a staff writer for the college paper, I stuck to dry reporting and steered clear of any subjects that threatened to catch fire. But I kept the note from Will.

You look sexy when you run, little cousin.