Page 21 of Beautiful Monster

With my ears ringing and my chest heaving for breath, I try to hear her saying my name in my mind. I work to force the sound, but it just doesn’t exist.

What I wouldn’t give to hear it.

Say something, Sunny.

Alexander.

“What the fuck.” Opening my eyes, I glance down at the mess I’ve made all over my hands and kitchen.

I’ve lost my goddamn mind.

CHAPTER 7

SUNNY

“Ugh,” I groan into my pillow as the morning sun shines through the open window. “What the hell was that, Sunny?”

Humiliation is the first emotion that greets me when I wake up. What was I thinking? Standing in the front of the window, preening, naked, and on display.

Honestly, I don’t believe I was thinking at all. I was feeling sexy, so I acted without consequence or thought. I snapped off my bikini top, knowing the whole time that he was watching. Like I was playing the starring role in my own fantasies—a woman with far more confidence than I have.

And the feeling was…provocative. Deep down, I wanted to do far more than stand there. I wanted to touch myself in that window, knowing he was watching. I wanted to prove to him that I am more than a teenager. I wanted him to see the woman there, aching to be admired and touched.

Flipping onto my back, I stare at the ceiling and try to garner the courage to go over there and face him. If I act nonchalant about the whole thing, maybe he will too. Maybe he’ll be so ashamed of looking that he won’t think to scold me for showing.

Feeling truly pathetic, I climb from the bed and start getting ready. In the shower, I make a promise to myself to put this whole Alexander Caldwell game to bed. No more playing. No more toeing the line. No more trying to tempt him into seduction.

This whole thing is getting in the way of what I really want, and if I fuck this up, letting him cross that line with me or push him to the point where he fires me, then I’ll be stuck in this house for even longer.

After I move out and start my life, I won’t even care about sexy neighbors too old for me. I won’t care about men at all, and if I do, then I’ll find a nice age-appropriate one to shake my tail feathers at. Until then…I am done.

After my shower, I get dressed, pulling on a pair of ripped jean shorts and a loose-fitting tank top. Running my fingers through my hair, I let it dry in messy, tangled waves. Then, I gather my stuff and head downstairs.

The house is quiet, and when I check my mom’s and sister’s rooms, I find them empty. Bitterness stirs inside me, but I push it down. On occasion my mom and Cadence meet their friends at the country club for brunch or go shopping at the outlets without me because in their eyes I am still a kid. The kid old enough to stay home alone but not old enough to drink in public.

I snatch an apple out of the bowl on the counter and fill my water bottle before heading over through the backyard via the hole in the hedge. When I reach Alexander’s pool house, it’s quiet.

I try to peek through the large sliding glass door, but the glare from the sun makes it impossible. Still, I don’t notice any movement inside. He must either be asleep or not home. So, I pull out the key that he gave me and unlock the door to the pool house.

It’s strange working without his presence while I sketch out the grid on the wall. This is the part I was most nervous about. If I screw this up, I screw the whole thing up. So, I take my time as I measure out the lines and draw them with care. I manage to connect my phone to his Bluetooth speaker and keep the music blaring.

I love this work. It’s mindless, relaxing. Thoughts about my mother, my dad, my ever-growing need to get the fuck out of my house clear my head, leaving room to let my mind wander—and naturally it uses the opportunity to fantasize about my new neighbor. Thinking about Alexander has become my new obsession. But not just him. This awakening he’s caused in me has stirred feelings about any man. About how I would feel when the time was right. About how badly I want the time to be right now.

The craving to lose myself in another person and explore these new urges is overwhelming. It’s what I think about when I fall asleep, when I wake up, and sometimes even in the middle of the night when all I can do to get back to sleep is rub myself raw until my body clenches in ecstasy, and I can relax.

Suddenly, my music stops and a hand latches around my arm, turning me away from the wall.

“What is wrong with you?” he bellows as I land against his body and stare up at his face contorted in anger. I didn’t even hear Alexander come in, but now he has me so close to his sweaty body that I couldn’t think a rational thought if I tried.

“Wh-what?” I stutter.

“Standing in the window naked, Sunny. Anyone could have seen you,” he says through gritted teeth. I can feel his breath on my face and notice the pause in his anger when his eyes meet my lips.

I open my mouth and nothing comes out.

“Say something, Sunny,” he groans. This time the command is not as playful or as teasing as it normally is. He sounds exasperated and angry with me.

So much for expecting him to avoid it.