Page 23 of Finding Kyler
He must be feeling pretty lousy to resort to petty crime to garner attention. All the money in the world is no substitute for parental love. My parents weren’t well off, and I can remember plenty of times when penny-pinching was the order of the day, but I never wanted for anything, especially not love and affection.
I haven’t lived here long, but James and Alex love their kids. I’ve seen enough to know that, but they aren’t around much, and that appears to be at the root cause of Kent’s issues. However, I’m curious to know if it’s more than what’s on the surface.How muchhaveAlexand James invested in trying to uncover the truth behind their son’s behavior?Whatever Kent is trying to achieve, it’s clearly not working, and I wonder how long it’ll take him to bring things to the next level.
I stand beside Kyler at the door, tracking Kent until he is gone from sight. “You’re worried about him,” I remark, not expecting him to reply.
He sighs. “Yeah. Someone has to.” He casts a scathing look over his shoulder at his dad.
“I’m sure your parents are worried about him, too. They probably just don’t know how to deal with it.”
“Well, they should know. They’re supposed to be the grownups.”
“That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to be them than it is to be us. I think it’s hard for the older generation to truly understand what we’re going through, especially when we resort to desperate measures to show them how we’re feeling because we’re incapable of using our words.”
His face turns a sickly green color, and I wonder what I said that apparently upset him. His eyes stare through me, as if I’m not even here. I lightly touch his arm. “Are you okay?”
He emerges from that lost place in his head, with a familiar-looking snarl plastered across his face. “Well, Dr. Faye, considering you seem to know everything, why don’t you tell me?” His harsh glare is challenging, but it’ll take more than that to push me away.
“You’re hurting.”
“Give the girl a gold fucking medal,” he sneers.
Ignoring his snippy tone and snide comment, I push on. “I’m a good listener, and I might understand more than you realize.”
He leans into my face in a deliberately intimidating move. His closeness does twisty things to my stomach that aren’t in any way unpleasant. My breath hitches as he stares deep into my eyes. I’m not sure that was the desired effect. “You know jack shit about me, and that’s exactly the way it’ll stay. Stop prying into stuff that doesn’t concern you. We may have no choice when it comes to you living here, but that doesn’t mean we’re all going to join hands around the campfire and sing Kumbaya. Butt out, Faye, or you’ll be sorry.”
Before I’ve even had a chance to respond, he pushes past me out the door like a tornado hell-bent on inflicting the worst possible destruction. I’m left standing there in his wake, wondering what the hell I said that was so wrong.
James’ history lesson and that awful conversation with Kyler sends me into a depression of sorts, and I spend the next few days skulking around the house like I have the weight of the world on my shoulders. Everything is still so alien, and I feel like a stranger in my own skin. I don’t know if I’ll ever settle here or if I’ll always feel like an outsider.
Alex and Keanu are still MIA, and Kent and Kyler barely acknowledge my existence. Kalvin has been conspicuous by his absence. I’ve no idea what he’s up to, but I’ve hardly seen him since our little “show” in the kitchen.
James drags me out to lunch one of the days and tries to get me to open up, but I deflect all his efforts. My head isn’t a groovy place right now, and I just want to be left alone to work through my crap in my own time.
I meet with the principal of Wellesley Old Colonial High School, and I guess I must meet his approval because he sanctions my enrollment before I leave. Not that I can summon much enthusiasm. The school has the best of facilities, and I’ll want for nothing here, but a stuffy, snobby, off-putting aura in the air seems to linger on my skin, aggravating me. Maybe it’s true what some people say. That buildings do emit vibes, because this place doesn’t give me a warm and cozy feeling. I console myself with the fact that I’ll only have to stomach it until January.
Keaton manages to coax me from my room to the pool most days, but I’m quiet and withdrawn, and after a while, even he gives up trying to tempt me out of my vegetative state.
It’s Thursday, and I’m lying on a lounger attempting to read a book when Kyler steps out onto the patio. Wearing a towel over one shoulder and black swim shorts that rest above his knee, he looks like he’s just stepped off the pages of a sports magazine. I try not to look, but my eyes have a plan of their own. To be honest, he’s the first thing to spark any modicum of interest in days, and I welcome the distraction, even if I am still pissy at him over the way he spoke to me the last time.
Dropping the towel on a lounger across from me, he casually looks me up and down, his gaze lingering briefly on my bikini top. Little fluttery sensations twist in my stomach, and my mouth feels unnaturally dry. I shift around on my chair, but I don’t avert my gaze. It’s as if someone’s cast a spell over me.
It’s been the same with us all week.
No words are spoken, but I intercept his heated glances, as he no doubt catches mine. And it’s much more than his blatant warning to stay out of his way. There’s no denying there’s some weird attraction between us even though we are consciously avoiding one another.
Kyler dives into the pool in one skillful movement, and I’m mesmerized by the sight. He cuts through the water with precise, measured strokes. Muscles flex in his back and bulge in his arms as he glides up and down the length of the pool.
Watching him is turning me on, and I’m feeling hot and bothered—I need to cool down. Without overthinking it, I shuck out of my shorts and pad toward the other side of the pool and dive in. The water soothes my skin, but my body still burns hot for him. Wishing he didn’t affect me so potently, I deliberately avoid looking at him. I stick to my side of the pool, but I’m hyperaware of his attention. His eyes trail a scorching path along my body as I push myself to my limits. I swim harder than I’ve swum in ages, and the agonizing ache in my limbs is like a balm to my fragile state of mind. I’d almost forgotten how exhilarating being in the water can be. How much it strengthens body and mind.
The pitter-patter of wet feet on asphalt brings me back into the moment. I glance up in time to see a dripping wet Kyler walk into the house. My body sags in relief and a tinge of disappointment. I stretch my arms out on the edge of the pool, lean my head back, and close my eyes. Extending my body in the water, so I’m stretched out in one even length, I lift my legs slowly up and down, stretching my tired muscles. The water laps at my body like a gentle caress.
Fingers brush against my collarbone, and my eyes snap open. Kyler is crouched over me, his wet hair pushed back off his face and his eyes piercing me with dark intensity. I stare back at him, feeling the warmth of his breath as it fans over my face. Tiny beads of water cling to his skin, and I eye them jealously. My fingers itch to roam all over him, and I’m shocked at the depth of my longing.
My nipples harden under his keen gaze, and a throbbing sensation pulses low in my belly. The air is fraught with sexual tension, and there’s no way he’s not feeling this too.
Wordlessly, he holds out a bottle of water. I accept it, and our fingers collide. That simple touch detonates fireworks inside me. My cheeks stain a delicate shade of red. “Thanks,” I croak, barely able to form a coherent word.
His fingers still linger against my skin, burning through me, and my eyes alternate from his hand to his unreadable face. His fingers press into my shoulder more firmly, and my pulse throbs wildly in my neck. Tiny shivers rocket all over me, and I visibly shudder.
