Page 19 of Beautiful Monster

“So, what’s your story, rain cloud? You in college?” He leans against the wall with the entire pool between us and watches me. I hate that he asked that. It makes me feel like such a kid.

I also don’t know how I feel about the nickname. I mean, on one hand, it seems special. But on the other hand, I want him to know that I’m not the moody girl he sees me as. Sometimes I’m just quiet because all anyone does in my life is argue, and I don’t want to be a part of it.

“Not right now.”

“Why not?”

I shrug. “I tried it, and I hated it.”

He nods in understanding. I don’t elaborate more. That after six months, my parents split, and it was all too much to handle. I finished the fall semester and never went back. It seems too personal to tell him all of that.

“Try something else, then,” he says like it’s just that simple.

“I don’t know what I want to do with my life.”

“Be an artist,” he adds.

“And make money how?” I ask with a smile.

“Do murals. I don’t know. You’re too talented to let that go to waste doing something mindless just to make money.”

The blue water reflects the light between us, and I try to memorize the way the water hangs from his honey-brown hair. I want to sketch it—right on my inner thigh, the way his thick, dark brow looks when it’s wet. Then I want his fingers to trace the image.

I clench my thighs again.

Taking this job was a stupid idea. I keep reminding myself it was about the money. Getting out of my mother’s house. Not being a kid anymore and finally doing something for myself…something I can be proud of.

But then I realize this little crush I’m developing on Alexander complicates things. I’ll probably spend the rest of this summer picturing him naked and putting off the actual painting. And he’ll never look at me like a woman, like he looked at Cadence. I need to get any ideas about him out of my head.

I’m here to paint, get paid, and move out.

That’s all.

CHAPTER 6

ALEXANDER

This was a bad idea. This was a very bad fucking idea.

What I needed was to get out of the city and out of trouble. I have somehow landed in the suburbs with a teenage girl in my pool, and I can’t seem to keep my eyes where they belong.

Something about Sunny steals my focus, like she’s tuned into a frequency that only I can hear. I’m picking up every goddamn word. Everything she says is all too familiar.

She doesn’t know what she wants to do with her life.

I know that feeling. She’s scared. Her parents fucking suck, and no one is giving this girl any guidance.

She wants a job that makes money.

She wants freedom. Man, do I know about that. When I was young, I wanted to be a part of it all. I started with some business investments, and I was desperate to be a part of something successful. And for a long time, I was. But I was still too stubborn to learn anything new, and I know I wasn’t the easiest person to work with. My trust fund afforded me a lifestyle with absolutely no guidance, lots of money, and just enough fame to get me laid on a pretty solid basis. In other words, a recipe for disaster.

And now at forty, I’m facing a fork in the road. If I continue this way, I can kiss any chance of a barely normal life goodbye. Live hard and die young. Or I can pump the brakes and try to find something that actually fucking matters in this life.

I just want to find peace, freedom—fuck—even love if that’s what calms my ass down.

But as I sent Sunny home and went back to work on my backsplash, my fingers itched to make a call. I had just spent the entire day staring at the one piece of ass I did not want to want, and I need to get this shit out of my system.

I rush through the grout job, and it turns out messy, but I don’t give a fuck. The sun is setting, turning the sky a hazy grayish blue as it disappears behind the trees. A light in the house behind mine flickers on, and I watch as someone moves around the room, but I can’t make out the figure just yet. The window is wide open, giving me a goldfish bowl view of the bedroom inside.