Summer Rental Boyfriend

The water bites through my skin the second I dive in, sharp enough to steal the breath from my chest, but I push forward, my legs kicking steadily.

By the second lap, it feels just right, cool against the heat of the sun above. For a moment, there is nothing but the pressure of water and the slow burn in my lungs as I move.

Then I push up, breaking through the surface with a sharp inhale. Water slides down my face as I drag a hand through my hair, pushing it back. When I pull myself out, it trails after me in thin streams, dripping from my arms and legs, gathering on the tiles beneath my feet.

I shake my head once, sending droplets everywhere. A towel waits on one of the lounge chairs. I grab it, dragging it over my hair, then my shoulders, not really drying off so much as brushing away the excess as I move towards the house.

The air inside is cooler. It hits my skin the second I step through, but I barely react. I just keep moving, bare feet quiet against the floor. The place is too still, so I fix that.

The sound system lights up with a touch. It takes a second to find something with a decent beat, but once I do, I turn it up just enough to fill the space.

The kitchen pulls me in next. I open the fridge, scanning quickly before grabbing the first drink that looks right. The cap twists off easily. I take a long sip, leaning back against the counter as the cold hits.

"That's more like it!" I say under my breath.

A red velvet cake sits on a tray, the layers too enticing to ignore. I don't hesitate grabbing a fork and taking a bite straight from where it sits. I hum in quiet approval and take another bite. Then another.

Music plays in the background as I move, drifting out of the kitchen and into the open space beyond it, a drink still in hand. A shift in the beat catches me, and I turn with it, half a step, then another, loose and careless. A laugh slips out, echoing faintly before fading into the music.

I lean back against the counter, then push off, drifting into the open space, still eating, still half dancing like there is nothing else to do but enjoy it. I spin lightly on my heel, laughing under my breath.

And then suddenly, the music stops and silence crashes in.

"Rude!" I call out immediately, not even thinking. Reality hits me a second too late.

I turn fast, my heart jumping to my mouth. There is someone standing there-- a guy around my age, dressed like he walked straight out of a luxury menswear campaign. Crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, tailored dark trousers, expensive watch catching the light... Not a single thing out of place.

His expression is serious, just fixed on me. I take him in for half a second then mutter, "Fuck me." He doesn't react to that. "This isn't what it looks like," I say, keeping my tone light.

"It looks like trespassing to me," he says, his glare hardening, his voice cold and flat. "Who the fuck are you?"

"Depends," I say calmly. "Are you going to call the police?" That earns me nothing but the same look. I sigh, lowering the drink and setting it down carefully on the nearest surface. "I was just--"

"Get the fuck out!" he commands, his hand lifting slightly as he gestures towards the door.

"Yep. Already gone," I say quickly, crossing the space fast, not looking back until I'm already out the door and into the open air.

I stop a few steps away, turning back towards the house, my breath evening out as quickly as it spiked. Then I grin. "So worth it!"

I run a hand through my still damp hair, then head back towards the side of the house where I left my things. The cleaning supplies are right where I dropped them; a bucket, net, and hose stretched out across the tiles. I pick them up, whistling like nothing happened.

I'm halfway done packing everything when a voice cuts in. "You didn't go inside the house, did you?"

I glance up. The groundskeeper, Arthur, is heading towards me fast, his expression clear enough that he already knows the answer.

"I just received a break in alert, which might as well mean I no longer have a job," he says.

I shrug lightly. "You told me no one was around."

"That didn't mean you could go inside!" he snaps. "Your work was to clean the pool and leave, damn it! This is my last time recommending a job for you, Kai."

I swing the bucket slightly as I straighten.

"Come on. The rich always have extra resources to spare and they are not exactly generous. People like me have to find ways to spend them."

He stares at me like I have lost my mind. "Is that the speech you are going to give in a courtroom once they have you arrested and charged?"

I grin. "Don't worry. My speech is much better than that."

"Kai, this is not a joke."

"Stop worrying too much, Artie. Just tell them you have no idea who I am. You will be off the hook."

I sling the rest of my things over my shoulder and start walking off.

"Kai, wait--" Arthur calls sharply behind me. There is urgency in his voice now, and that alone makes me pay attention. "You don't understand how serious this is. That house belongs to the Whitlocks."

I glance back over my shoulder. "Is that supposed to mean something to me?"

He exhales impatiently, but the sound of an approaching car interrupts before he answers. A black Rolls Royce Cullinan, comes up the driveway. We both turn fully now.

The doors open and people step out. Suddenly, my heart stills. I recognize them, not from any past encounter but from headlines.

My voice drops. "Oh. Those Whitlocks."

That family carries the kind of wealth that doesn't just buy comfort. They are the kind of family people don't cross twice because there usually isn't a second chance to talk about it.

Arthur lowers his voice. "If they find out you were inside that house unsupervised--"

"They already do," I breathe, the intense pair of eyes I encountered in the kitchen painting themselves into my skull. I can't believe I missed that relation. "Their son threw me out."

"What?" Arthur goes still. Then, he says quietly, "God help us both."

I swallow, this suddenly feeling like a mistake I can't talk my way out of.