What's Left of Me Ch. 04

Previously on What's Left of Me: Dafydd Williams starts a new job and meets a new girl. Emily is vivacious and perceptive, and, like Dafydd, is trying to find her place in the world. They're drawn to each other immediately, and have an intimate night out ending in mutual oral. Unfortunately, after a long week of training, they're too tired to consummate the relationship fully, and make plans for Friday to finish what they'd started, and to decide what they want to be to each other. But they've got make it through their first week of work first.

I'm trying something new with formatting of text messages. Thanks very much to Penny Thompson for walking me through it, and to Lucky for their excellent How-To on special formatting.

In this chapter you can expect trading of nudes, oral, handstands, workplace chat and some light exhibitionism.

The rest of the day passed in a pleasant summery haze. It'd been a hell of a week. On Monday, I'd gotten in my car in the morning full of trepidation; now, on Saturday, I felt like I had a new lease on life – still bills to come due and payments to make, and the bank could take it away at any time, but it was something. It was the start of something, at any rate.

Of course, I hadn't technically begun work yet. Lots of things could still go wrong. But worrying about what could have gone wrong was what'd blown up my life the last time around, the last time I was contemplating a girl intertwined with a career, so I figured optimism was the order of the day. There's an old saying in Tennessee or Texas or someplace: fool me once, shame on you, but you can't get fooled again. That's the essence of it, anyway. My father used to say something like it, and snort like the bull contemplating the matador when he did.

Maybe that's why I went shopping, or maybe it was purely practicality. New job, new girl, new clothes; and if I could be comfortable on the water and in the heat, so much the better. Bye-bye, most of my first paycheck. I pretended it was an investment. At least I had a little nest egg. I'd made good money from the engineers and the consultants and hadn't spent much of it.

Emily and I had said our goodbyes that morning outside Lannigan's, sharing a gentle kiss before going our separate ways. I'd wanted to hang onto that moment of uncertainty for as long as I could; once we'd separated we'd begin the process of thinking about us, if there could even be an us, and what that would mean. I wasn't ready to go down that road, or to think about what might lie at the end.

So as I went through the day, I tried not to dwell on it. Not easy to do, unfortunately. I wondered how the conversation with Max and Jordi had gone, whether Serah'd been awake to join in the teasing. Wondered what Emily had said. Wondered what her plans were this weekend, the big weekend she'd said she had. And whenever I looked at a shirt or a pair of shorts I'd wondered: would she like this? I hoped so. The last thing I wanted was to pick her up for our first day of work looking like Doctor Granola the Yoga Clown.

By the time I'd driven down the dusty dirt road to the house, it was well into the afternoon, and too hot to do the chores I needed to finish before Monday, at least not pleasantly. Mowing the lawn and the other grassy spaces – drain field, around the garage and the shed where my father's tractor lived – could take hours. And that wasn't the only thing I needed to finish over the weekend, with a further list of things that had to be done by the end of the month, by the end of summer. And I had to do laundry, meal prep, take out the garbage – the endless and inevitable tasks that're the cost of being an adult, especially one living alone.

I made a sandwich and took a nap. I obviously couldn't be expected to work on an empty stomach. I'm not a Terminator. Then I got to work.

**

On Sunday morning, I was on the roof with a push-broom, sweeping the metal clean, clearing out the gutters as I went, when my phone dinged.

There's a perfect time for working on my roof, and it's that time of morning that's neither early or late but simply 'morning'. The morning dew has burned away and the paint's not slick with moisture, but the metal's not been heated by the baking sun of a summer afternoon. If I was lucky, there'd still be birds around, and sometimes one would light in a low branch where I could look it in the face and feel, absurdly, like a temporary peer. The property looked so green from up there. Walnut trees don't stay green long, but when they're thriving and lush there's nothing like them anywhere, outside the rain forests. The thing about walnuts, though, is that they drop leaves and twigs and branches at the drop of a hat; that those twigs clog gutters up something fierce; and that the leaves stain like anything if left alone. They've got a mild acidity to them, and as I'd already primed and painted this roof once I'd rather not fucking do it again, not if fifteen minutes or half an hour of maintenance every now and then could prevent it.

I'd have looked absurd up there if there were anyone to see, sweeping away with my broom, singing along to the sea shanties pumping through my earbuds courtesy of singers from Port Isaac and Padstow. I'd never gone to either place, and probably never would. They were both in Cornwall, I knew, that little spit of land in the southwest of England which under Roman dominion had been mostly left alone. Beyond that, they were responsible for quite a lot of shanties, if the recording I had was any indication.

My phone dinged again. And again. Once more for good measure.

Should probably check it. I thought. Shame I'd left it on the patio.

Fortunately, the house is only one story and the roof's not steep, so it wasn't much trouble to get down and fetch my phone, though it took a moment to navigate the edge of the roof and the fragile gutter, and to step down onto the top step of the ladder ("DANGER: Never step up or down onto the top of this ladder," the unheeded warning read) without it overturning.

It was Emily, of course.

hey

Then: buddy

Then: BUDDY!, accompanied by a picture of her pouting face; it looked like she was in her room.

Then: if u dont text im gonna have to send u ???? ????

Well. Thank God I got to the phone just in time. I texted back: Don't threaten me with a good time!, and barely had the text left when my phone was signaling an incoming video call.

"Finally!", she huffed in the most transparently fake way. "I thought you were dead! Looking good, by the way."

I had my hair held back with a headband, though I hadn't really dried it after showering that morning and, under the mounting heat and humidity and mechanics of drying, it was fuzzing out all over the place. I'd trimmed my beard again that morning – left too long it starts to look like a wasp's nest stuck there under my chin, the ugliest sort of neckbeard. My shirt was a cotton button-down in a godawful white-green-yellow tartan pattern with a few buttons undone, and my new sunglasses perched on my head.

"You're such a liar," I said. "I look like I've been working on the roof all morning." That was only a slight exaggeration. "What've you been up to? Lounging around? Taking selfies?"

"Maybe one or two. And no, I've been busy. I went shopping yesterday, needed some pants with pockets."

"Don't all pants have pockets?"

"It is a well-known fact, sir, that girl pants do not have appropriate pockets. Like, everyone knows this."

"Well," I said, "I did not. But as it happens I also bought clothes yesterday."

"What?! And you didn't tell me? How could you possibly not tell your buddy that you were going shopping?"

"You were busy," I said defensively. "I asked –"

"You asked if I wanted to have sex," she cut in. "Which I did. Do. Whatever. But shopping is something else entirely. Please at least tell me you didn't buy that shirt."

"I did," I said, talking over her pained groan, enjoying her expression of dismay. "But I got it at a thrift store in Colorado Springs last year for fifty cents or something."

"Well you got overcharged."

"I thought you said I looked good."

"You do. Your shirt doesn't. You should probably take it off."

I rolled my eyes. "You're impossible. What's up?"

"So, I'm trying to find a place to work out and stuff. You know anything about a place called Old Dominion Climbing Co-Op? It's out near me, on the other side of the highway." She shifted and glanced away. Maybe she was looking at her laptop. "Down... uh, looks like Greenspring Avenue."

I searched my brain, which didn't take long. "Never heard of it. Only thing I know down there is the rec center, but it's not called anything like that. Oak Grove or something."

"No," she said, "that's not it. I mean, it looks cool – have you ever been there? The pool looks awesome. But I want something with yoga classes."

"Sorry," I said. "Never heard of it. Oak Grove's pretty nice. My brother worked summers there. Fitness center is nice, and there's a park with whole bunch of green space that's pretty nice for running."

"Right, yeah, but it's pretty expensive if you don't live in the county."

"I didn't think about that," I said. "I guess. Sorry, I'm not really a weights person. I just run."

"So this Old Dominion place – it looks pretty nice. Little gym with, like, all the basic stuff, and then a ton of climbing space. And they have yoga twice a week, free for members. You ever done any climbing? You seemed pretty good at it last week."

"No, never," I said, flattered. It's not like what we'd done in training was particularly intense; it mostly seemed like climbing a funky ladder – literally, in the case of that wire ladder that twisted and spun when you moved. But it's always nice to be praised, and it had been fun.

"Well," she said, "you were. I've gone a couple times. It's fun. Really good workout. The only thing is... it looks like it's in some, like, weird industrial park or something. You wanna come check it out with me?"

I was tempted. Mowing in the heat of the afternoon was... not appealing. Nor was going back into the woods and clearing out the trail down to the creek; a tree had fallen in an April storm and I'd been detouring around it for the better part of two months on my runs. And I hadn't done laundry yet, and I hadn't done any meal prep. And I really needed rest before work on Monday; we'd been given a seven A. M. start time, which would mean being out the door before five-thirty, which would mean being up before five if I wanted to be awake for the drive.

On one hand, there was plenty of time to do some of that stuff and still meet her. But figure forty-five minutes to get to her place, forty-five minutes back, plus whatever time it took to check the gym out, see what it was like, plus the likelihood that we'd just fall into bed – wait, I thought, am I trying to talk myself into this or out of it? I didn't know.

"I can't believe I'm saying this," I said, "but I have to say no this time. I've just got a bunch to do here. Want to check it out Monday after work?"

"It's okay," she said. "I can go by myself, I don't mind."

"Sorry."

"It's fine. Just..." There was a pause like an unwelcome guest.

"Just what?"

"It's not because we didn't have sex yesterday, right?" She looked serious, and a little worried.

"No! No. No! Definitely not. Sorry! I didn't mean to – I don't want to give you that impression. I had a really wonderful time, and I'm looking forward to Friday, and, and I'm looking forward to seeing you Monday morning, really. And I wish I could go with you today, but I gotta do the lawn and a bunch of laundry and –" I ran out of steam, feeling like a jerk, like I was in the process of blowing it.

"Good. I mean, I'm looking forward to Friday too, a lot, and to Monday. I just... I miss you? Is that weird? I saw you yesterday. That's weird. I'm being weird. Sorry."

Phew. Maybe it wasn't as bad as I thought.

"No! Not at all. I, uh, I miss you too. When you think about it, we met Monday morning, right, and since then we haven't been separated for longer than twelve hours or whatever. Fifteen. Whatever the number is. The point is, a day is as long as it's been."

"Yeah," she said, smiling a little into the camera.

"So," I said, feeling a bit awkward again, "maybe we need to just... I don't know. Pause a minute? Just for today? I mean I know we did yesterday after I left. But I was busy most of the day."

"Me too."

"And next week we're going to be with each other a bunch, yeah? At least commuting, right?"

"I guess, yeah. Right."

"So... if we're going to think about –" I gestured, flapping my hand back and forth at the camera, indicating her and I "—then today's the only day we'll have apart to do that."

She looked mollified. "That's a good point. I hadn't thought about that. Okay. I forgive you."

"I – hey, you forgive me? For what?"

"For not going with me," she said, "to the creepy industrial park. The gym's probably, like, filled with creeps. They'll kidnap me and it'll be all your fault."

"Monday! We can go Monday after work!"

"I can't go Monday," she said. "I promised Max and Jordi I'd make them dinner in exchange for not having to tell them what we did Friday night."

"Oh. Well. Thank you for falling on that sword for me. I appreciate it."

"You're welcome," she said, "and you owe me a favor. A big one."

"A small one," I shot back. "It's not like they're my roommates."

"Okay, fine. A small favor. Hey, what time are you gonna pick me up Monday?"

"I guess... six? Six-fifteen?"

"Okay, sounds good. I'll see you then. I gotta go; the place opens soon. Make sure you bring me some coffee on Monday!" And she looked like she wanted to say something else, but hung up before her mouth could form the words.

If I had too much work to hang out with Emily, I needed to get back to it. I was climbing back onto the roof when my phone ping-ping-pinged again.

already took this

dont wanna waste it, u know

And a picture of her ass, covered by a pair of steel-silver leggings that couldn't have been tighter if they'd been painted on.

That girl, I thought, is impossible, and felt warm for reasons that had nothing to do with the mounting heat, as I tapped out an appreciation and a solemn promise that no such image would ever be wasted.

**

I parked outside Emily's building at six Monday morning with two mugs of tepid black coffee. She drained hers nearly in a single draught, and by the time I'd navigated the little back streets, annoying left turn and slow traffic light necessary to get back onto the highway, she was leaning her head against the window and snoring cutely. She stayed asleep until Sanders waved us through the front gate, coming awake with a little snort, blearily blinking as I parked in what'd started to become my spot in the lot.

"Good morning, sunshine," I said, maybe a little bit mockingly. Who could say?

"Ugh. G'm'rning."

"What's got you so tired? Long night? You're usually pretty chipper in the morning."

"It's early." She made a face. "It's, like, barely 6:40. This seven o'clock start sucks."

"Yes it does. It really, really does. Thom said it's probably just this week though."

"Fuck." She yawned. "I hope so."

"So...?"

"So?"

I laughed at her. "So what's got you so tired? How was the climbing place you went yesterday?"

Her face lit up. "Oh! Oh, it was great. It was really cool and you're coming with me sometime. No excuses."

"None, huh?"

"Yeah," she said. "You have to. You wanna sit on the porch or go down to the athletics building?"

I thought about it for a second as we followed the road, hand in hand, up the little hill between the two buildings.

"Porch," I said. "At least this morning. Probably won't hurt our chances to get an offer for the fall if Thom keeps seeing us here early."

"You're committed, huh? We haven't even worked with the kids yet and you're ready to sign up."

"Yeah, I think so," I said slowly. "I've been thinking about it a lot, and unless this week really sucks, I dunno. I'm happy? I can see myself really liking this. But tell me about the place."

"Aww." She batted her eyelids at me, then spoiled the effect by yawning again. "Sorry. Um. The gym. So... I'm so tired because I went over there at, like, two, and then I was there until six, and then a bunch of the girls took me out to say hi and welcome to Virginia and welcome to their little community."

"Wait wait," I said, "back up. The girls?"

"Oh yeah," she said. "So I get there and it's pretty empty, except for some kids having a birthday party, I think, and a couple guys, and this group of girls. So I figure, you know, I'll get a tour and stuff and ask about the yoga, and the guy at the desk shows me around. But he doesn't, like, know anything about the classes since he doesn't do yoga, right?" She giggled. "He seemed pretty high. Just tells me they're Tuesday and Thursday. But he points to one of the girls and tells me she's a regular, and maybe I can go ask her."

"And?"

"And so I go over and say hi, I'm new, just checking the place out, the guy at the desk – who asked for my number twice, by the way –"

"Did you give it to him?"

"Ooooh," she said teasingly. "Jealous?"

"No!" I laughed. "Not unless you're gonna start sending him better pictures than you send me. That one this morning was very nice, by the way."

"Yeah it was. And no, I didn't give it to him." I hadn't thought she had. "Anyway, Angie – the girl he pointed out – is so cool. Fuck. And she said the yoga classes are great, and their little group meets before them on Tuesday and Thursday and my boyfriend and I – I know, but it was easier than, like, explaining – should join them."

"I get it," I said, trying to match the tone she used to tease me. "So you want to introduce me to your new friends? Big step!"

"Well," she said, "sort of. Because I kinda came clean about the whole thing at dinner – they insisted on taking me to dinner, which is why I'm so tired. I didn't get to sleep until late."

"So you told them... what?"

"That I'd met this guy –" smiling at me "—but he's not exactly my boyfriend and we still need to figure that part out. And they all had a bunch of advice until Angie made them change the subject. But yeah. It was really nice, and it's cool to have more friends here. And you need to meet them."

"Why? Not that I'm opposed or anything."

"Because I'm going to be friends with them, and with you, so you need to be friends with them. And because you need more friends too, right?"

"I do," I said reluctantly, sitting on the porch steps. Emily sat next to me, leaving enough space for plausible deniability.

"And we both, like, need some help, right? I mean like with our lives, you know? We need to figure things out a bit. Well, Angie has got shit figured out. Hot husband, her daughter is adorable, loves her job. And Corey – her name is Corrine but she goes by Corey – is just, like, super blunt and direct. But in a good way. And hanging out with them was really fun."

"Okay," I said. "You've convinced me. I'll go hang out with my best buddy's new girlfriends. What a burden this is."

We would have kept talking, but the appearance of Thom's truck brought our conversation to a halt.

**

Children, I decided, were exhausting, but happy children were energizing.

I'd been working on the high course with Ryan and Scott; Emily had used her free pass to take the low course, which I hadn't understood. Scott helped at the zipline landings, I'd helped at the approach end, and Ryan ran the platform; we'd been smooth and quick enough to give every kid that day two turns. Ryan's ability to see what felt like two or three things at once was impressive.

By the afternoon, I should have been dragging, but the enthusiasm of the kids pulled me through. They were so annoying; running here, there and everywhere, not listening, never where they should be, distracted by everything. And the older kids, the fourteen- and fifteen-year-olds we'd had in the morning, combined that lack of focus and attention with a sort of jaded nonchalance that got very annoying very quickly. The younger ones made up for it, though. They were too excited to focus, shouting when one of their friends zipped across the valley, pelting up the long steep stairs as fast as they could when it was their turn to tow the pulley back. When they were given jobs to do and told they were important, the kids took that to heart, focusing on holding their hands up in spotting positions solemnly, as if waiting to catch the world if Atlas should let it drop.

Thom was pleased. It'd been a smooth first day, though we were a staff member short – Arthur, apparently, whose father the lawyer had taken him on a trip to the south of France, was late coming back. By the reactions of Thom, Gwen, Kieran and Ryan, something scandalous was happening; Hope was as confused as the five of us newbies. Dave, Gabby, Hope and Kieran had had an easy day on the pond, and Gwen showed a touch of rare public enthusiasm describing how well Emily had done keeping groups of kids organized and engaged throughout the day. As a reward, Thom gave us an extra half-hour of grace in the morning, pushing our start time back for the rest of the week – "as long as you don't screw it up," he said gravely, dismissing the five of us, though he asked the full-time people to stay.

Unusually, Dave fell in with Emily and I as we walked back to our cars.

"How was the pond?", Emily asked.

Dave smiled broadly. "The fuckin' tits."

"That good, huh?" I snorted a little.

"Bro," he said, speaking seriously, as if imparting the secret formula for health, wealth and happiness. "Three groups a day, right? They gotta walk down there, dude. And they gotta walk back, right?"

"Right, yeah," I said, not sure where he was going with this.

"They gotta be on time to stuff, dude. And they don't get to leave early."

"Oooh," Emily said. "So you have a big gap between groups?"

"Yeah, girl!" He offered her a fist bump, which she accepted half-heartedly. "Thirty-minute break in the morning and another one after lunch, and Kieran showed us a shortcut from the pond to lunch, so we had like 90 minutes."

Emily blinked. "Damn," she said. "So did you do, like, any work today?"

Dave grinned again. "Fuck no I didn't! Helped unload the boats in the morning, put away paddles in the afternoon. Took two naps. This job is fuckin' great."

"That does sound pretty good," I said. "Easier than my day, for sure."

"Yeah, bro. That shit's work. Hey, Emily. Why didn't you come to the pond with us?"

"What do you mean us? I obviously would have swapped with you," she said mockingly. "I haven't really gotten to hang out with Gabby yet."

"You coulda swapped with Hope. You, me and Gabby. We could have a good time together."

I frowned. "Why did you pick the low course, Em?" I'd hoped she'd work with me, though given the division of labor at the high course I supposed that wasn't realistic.

Dave jumped in. "Yeah, why did you?"

She adopted a superior look, seeming to look down her nose at both of us despite her height disadvantage. "Because," she said, "low course is, like, eighty percent of what we'd be doing in the fall, and I wanted to see what it's like. The pond is fun, but they, like, never use it after camp. And I get why you like the high course stuff, Ducky, I really do. I know you want to stay in the fall but if you hate the low course stuff, you might be miserable." Her expression changed, becoming sympathetic, and she looked at me. "I haven't made up my mind if I'm staying or not. So I wanted to take the most important piece for a test-drive."

"That makes sense," I said, slowly. I wished I'd thought of it that way.

Dave scoffed. "You picked the most boring thing to see if it was boring when you could have been tanning. Missed opportunities, girl."

"What did you think?", I asked.

"You know what? I liked it," she said. "I liked it a lot." I couldn't help smiling. "I mean, I had Gwen with me and she's so good –"

"Kind of a bitch though," said Dave. "Am I right?"

"No, actually," said Emily mildly. "You're really not. She's so organized and on the ball, I felt like I was getting in the way, but she went out of her way to, like, give me things to do and make me take responsibility for stuff. She even let me lead some things in the afternoon, which she said doesn't happen during the first week. So that was really cool."

"That's awesome!" I offered her a fist bump of my own, which she returned with much more enthusiasm than she had Dave's just a minute earlier. He frowned a little at me. "Other than Gwen, what was good?"

And she was off, talking about her day and the way the different ages had behaved, and how Gwen and Thom had taught her about sequencing events, not just through the period but for the full three-week camp session and the whole summer, knowing that more than half of the kids would stay for all nine weeks. I listened intently; this was useful stuff. It could be a good head start for the fall, and I saw her point about evaluating the job based on its most common activities. I wanted to stay, but low course was my weakness, and I resolved to get myself assigned there as often as I could, at least for the first few weeks.

Dave was bored. When Emily paused, he saw an opportunity and took it.

"Enough talking about work, dudes." He turned towards me as we walked. "Emily said you guys went out on Friday."

"Yeah," I said cautiously. "We did."

"Where'd you go? Was it fun? Did you get fucked up? Did you –" he made a lewd thrusting gesture with his hands and pelvis.

"Don't be gross, dude," I said. "We went to a pub that had live music, we didn't get fucked up. It was cool." Cool. What an inadequate way to describe the fooling around we'd done, the sex we hadn't had, the emotions we'd shared. "Nice getting to know her outside work," I added lamely. We were approaching the parking lot now, thank God. I couldn't wait to get rid of him.

"Pretty lame, bro." He looked at Emily. "There's this sweet place out by me that does half-price hookah and tequila on Wednesday. It's pretty Gucci. Better than some boomer bar."

"Maybe" said Emily, mock-sweetly. "But you know what wouldn't be better? The –" she repeated his pelvic thrust. "Because this guy's dong is bigger than my forearm."

A laugh started to bubble up in me as Dave's face went slack. Who the hell says dong?

"Seriously, David. I came –" she looked at me "—five times? Or was it six?"

"Five," I said, as seriously as I could. "The last one was an accident so I don't think it counts. Wait, are you counting the one at the bar?"

"Oh, no," she said, matching my tone. "I forgot that one. So six. I'm surprised I can walk. Thank you so much, baby." She took my arm. "And there was the one this morning –"

"Two."

"—the two this morning, right. And last night –"

"I think he gets the point," I said, losing control of my laugh, and Emily laughed with me.

Dave shook his head like a punch-drunk boxer, then smiled a pained little smile. "Okay, okay. You're fuckin' with me. Very funny, shouldn't have asked, sorry. You guys should still come to the Lounge."

"Sorry," I said. "It's a school night." His mouth started to open. "We already have plans Friday and Saturday," I added.

He whistled. "Damn, dude. When's the wedding?"

"Soon," Emily said. "I need to ask Ruth if we can use the cabin. You want to be a flower girl?"

He shook his head. "No, but if you get Gabby to be your maid of honor I'll be this guy's best man."

"Sorry, bro," I said. "Thom's my best man and Hope's the ringbearer. Only thing left is flower girl."

"God, dude. You're simpin' hard. See you tomorrow." He rolled his eyes and walked to his car.

"See ya, Dave," snickered Emily. When we were in my car, and he was safely in his, she turned to me with a sparkle in her eyes. "Of course he drives a BMW. Of course."

"He's a nepo-baby, right? What an –" I paused, as Dave revved the engine once, twice, and unnecessarily both times "—asshole." I started the car and followed him out of the lot, heading for the back road that'd take us to the highway; turning right would be shorter, but traffic in the village backed up fiercely, and I wanted to skip it.

"He totally is," she laughed. "Did you see the look on his face when I said you had a big cock?"

"I can't believe you did that," I said. "I mean, I can, because that's something you'd do. But I didn't expect it."

"Mmm," she said. "It's fun to raise the stakes."

"What would you have done if he'd played along?"

"Made you drop your pants," she replied instantly, then laughed. "I'd have just raised again. But he wouldn't've. He's too used to spending daddy's money to look cool. He can't do it on his own. There are lots of guys like that in L. A., they're everywhere. I used to meet them all the time, back in my old life."

"Old life," I said. "You're twenty-two. I'm older than you. What do you mean, old life?"

"Anyway," she said, rolling her eyes at me as we paused for a stop sign, "he rolled in here expecting to be, like, mister stud, the cool kid everyone wants to be friends with. But he's out of his depth. Hope looks like she could throw him through a wall. Kieran's got that hot Irish accent, and he's married to a yogi. Ryan's the size of a house."

I nodded. "He's worried Gwen might stab him."

"You were too, when you met her," she said reasonably.

"Guilty as charged," I admitted, "but I've come around. So what?"

"So he's not impressing any of the regulars, yeah?"

"That's a good point. And he wants to?"

"Of course he does," she scoffed. "He needs attention like you need water."

"I do need water," I said. "Can you grab my bottle? I think I tossed it in the back."

"Here." She handed me hers, uncapped, and I drank from it, and a little bolt of desire struck me. Her lips had been on this. It wasn't so long ago they'd been on mine. "And he's not doing so hot with us summer people. There's Scott, who looks like a geek, and he's a kindergarten teacher, which is, like, the least cool job there is."

"But it's a job, a real job," I said.

"Exactly! It's not just a job, it's a career. And he's older, too, and Gabby's paying a lot of attention to him."

"Despite his looks," I said, intrigued. "And his, I don't know, his weirdness."

"Yeah. He looks like a geek and he has a geeky job and the busty –" I'd never heard someone use the word 'busty' before, outside porn "—lifeguard is kinda into him because he has something Dave doesn't, and he doesn't like that, and that makes him less interested in her."

"So that's why he's trying to flex at you?"

"No, you dummy," she said sharply. "That's why he's trying to flex at you."

I was rolling the Jeep through a series of curves as the road rose and fell, undulating around the houses of the not-quite-super-rich, each sitting back on its own private hill. Over the summer I'd drive this road dozens of times, and occasionally wonder how many of the people who lived in them sent their kids to Ridgeway, or had, or would. There were three speed bumps in this section and a one-lane stone bridge, and the right gear changed regularly; second to third to fourth and back down again. I think that's why it took a moment for what she'd said to penetrate.

"Huh? You mean – are you saying he's gay? He's not gay."

She laughed brightly. "No! No, no. But he is, like, trying to get your attention."

"Why? What do you mean?" I was baffled, and I took my attention from the road briefly, glancing at her. She leaned against the door, twisted in her seat, and the look on her face was insufferably smug.

"What's the thing he wants from this summer?"

"To get a girlfriend," I guessed.

"Wrong." She sounded very certain. "He doesn't want a girlfriend. He does want to get laid, and he'll accept a girlfriend if that's the only way he can get his dick wet. But the most important thing to him is getting the cool people to think he's cool. That's Thom, Ryan, Gabby, you and me." I wanted to ask for an explanation but didn't need to; she knew I wasn't following. "Thom's the boss. He can give out privileges. Dave wants easy, so he's going to suck up to Thom when it doesn't involve, like, extra work. Ryan used to be a college athlete. He'd be a good wingman. Gabby's –"

"I know why he wants Gabby to think he's cool, thanks. Why am I on that list?"

She laughed again. "Not hard to figure out, right? What do you mean, why are you on the list? It's obvious."

"Not to me," I said, and it wasn't. Fortunately, we were out of the rolling curves now. I had a little more attention to spare. I glanced at her and smiled at the incredulous look she gave me in return. "Why me and not Kieran?"

"Kieran," she said, "is married and thirty. So Dave thinks he has nothing to offer. But you do."

"What?"

"Couple things," she said, holding her hand out where I could see it and ticking the items off. "First, I'm pretty fucking hot."

"Yes, you are," I interrupted.

"Aww, thanks," she said. I couldn't see her smile, but I felt it, a warm pressure on my skin like a beam of sun through the window. "And it's not like we're doing PDA at work, but we're also not hiding that we're into each other, right?"

"If we are," I said, "we're doing a terrible job. Remember what Thom said at the pond on Friday?"

"That's exactly what I'm talking about! Imagine you're Dave. Not short, not fat; you're in decent shape, dress well, and you're, you know, pretty cute. And you drive a nice car, and you're gonna go hang out for the summer, just to kill time and meet chicks, and you know you can pick up chicks because you've been doing it your whole life. And you walk in and there's four girls there."

"Wow," I said sarcastically. "I can picture it just like it was last week."

"Shut up, you," she chuckled. "So there's four girls. Gwen sees through him instantly, because she can recognize a superficial douchebag when she sees one. Hope doesn't fit the image he's going for. And Kieran and Thom treat her like a younger sister. Two male authority figures watching out for her? And one of them is the boss? Too risky. So then –"

We came to a halt at a light. Roadwork had closed the right-turn lane, so we'd need to wait for a full green. We had a minute or two before that.

"Hold that thought," I said, and I leaned over and kissed her. She returned it enthusiastically, taking my face in her hands. I stroked her hair, feeling the tilt of her head and the curve of her cheek under my hand. Her lips were soft and warm, and her tongue pulled away...

"Green light," she said, leaning back, a devilish glint in her eye.

"Huh?"

"Green light." The car behind us honked. Oh, shit. I waved my hand in apology and got us moving again. "Enjoy yourself?"

"I've wanted to do that since Saturday. Go on."

"Me too," she sighed. "Me too. Where was I?"

"Four girls."

"Right. Gwen, Hope. Gabby was his first choice. But she's got some nasty family stuff going on, remember? Scott's chatting her up and she's receptive because he seems stable and normal. He's safe. Dave might be fun, but is Dave gonna be there when she needs someone? Probably not."

"And Scott will."

"I think she thinks so, but is he fun enough? Maybe not. That's what she's working out. And while she's doing that, Dave's thinking, basically, this girl is boring, she probably doesn't put out. Fortunately there's one more girl –"

"And she's beautiful and perceptive and wise –"

"He doesn't care about two of those. But he's a boob guy and by the time he gets around to talking to the girl who doesn't have them, she's taken." I opened my mouth, then shut it when she continued. "Remember, this is how he sees it. What he sees is a guy who's taller than he is, better looking. Doesn't have a nice car, but he can drive a stick. Seems like he has his own house. Doesn't talk much, but people take him seriously. When he tells a joke, they laugh."

This is pretty good for the ego, I thought, even though none of it's true.

"Now he's thinking, damn, this guy's got the girl I wanted. It's a rivalry now."

"And it's a competition with me and not with Scott because choosing Scott means Gabby's flawed, so he's not interested anymore."

"Exactly," she said. "Now you're getting it. He thinks he's cool, he thinks you're cool, I picked you, therefore I like cool guys, so if he can out-cool you then he'll get me. But Scott's not cool, so Gabby must not be cool, so he won't be interested until he thinks she's cool again."

"How the fuck did you figure this out?"

"Oh," she said, "I didn't. I'm mostly guessing."

"You're shitting me," I said in disbelief.

"Educated guess, though. I've talked with him and Gabby a bit, and, like I said, I run into this kind of guy all the time in California."

"So you're pretty sure? What I don't get," I said, "is why he's not just writing me off as a geek like Scott, because none of what you said earlier is true." Then I added, "I guess I am taller than he is."

My hand was on the knob of the shifter. Emily placed hers over mine and squeezed briefly, and my heart leapt at the contact.

"You're so modest," she said. "But face facts, buddy. You have a great body. You're really handsome. Don't argue." I could feel my mouth opening to do so, and snapped it shut. "Trust me. Expert opinion here. And you have this attitude, like, you've dealt with a lot, you can handle whatever's coming. As soon as I met you I felt like I could trust you."

"The first time you met me," I said, glancing at her as I changed lanes, "I was staring at your ass, and I was beet-red."

"That's true," she giggled. "But it was nice to be appreciated. Did you like the picture I sent you yesterday?"

"I did," I said. "Very much. Maybe try without pants next time? Just to see if it's better."

"I will if you do," she said. "Anyway, I was thinking of our talk in the clearing. And then, like, you come into the job and you pick it up like that." She snapped her fingers. "Middle of the first week and Gwen's telling Thom you need to stay. I know you're worried about getting an offer for the fall, but trust me. You've got it in the bag if you want it. Believe in yourself."

"Look who's talking," I returned. "You're the star in our group, Em. I'm only good at one thing. You're great at all of it." I could see her shaking her head from the corner of my eye.

"I'm good at it."

"Better than me."

"Only on the low course," she said.

"Which is most of the job."

"Which is most of what we do on the job. But we also have to be patient, and calm, and think about the whole group and the whole staff and all that. You're so good at that, and you're always helping out."

"So are you!"

"Only because you do," she said, and I glanced at her. She wasn't looking at me now. She'd turned away, studying the window. "Every time he asks for volunteers, I'm planning to sit there, then you get up and, like, shame me into helping."

"That's not... I don't mean..."

"I know, okay? You're just good, and I think: I want to be like that. I want to be better than I am."

"Who you are is really good."

"There's room for improvement."

"Everyone has room for improvement," I said. "Nobody's perfect. You're pretty close, okay?"

We didn't speak for a few moments, and I turned into her neighborhood. I was pulling the car into a space near her front door when I heard her whisper: "I want to be." I turned towards her, surprised and confused, and she winced and said, "Fuck! Grocery store. I forgot I have to cook. Would you like –" she fluttered her eyes at me, endearing, flattering, entreating me to forget whatever had just happened "—would you like to come grocery shopping with me?"

"Sure," I said. "But... would you like to make out a little bit first?"

And she smiled, wide lips revealing brilliant white teeth, and said, "Yes I would, very much."

So we did, and kissing each other in that parking space outside her door until an amused Jordi, putting out the recycling, knocked on the window and made us both jump.

That was Monday.

**

Sent at 10:12pm by Emily R:

hey

you still up

Sent at 11:56pm by Emily R:

buddy i cant sleep

Sent at 12:19am by Emily R:

heres a treat for u to wake up to

see you tomorrow ????

6:45 ok???

That's what I saw when I woke up. The time she suggested was fine. I was about to tell her that when I saw what she'd sent earlier – specifically, when I saw the pictures.

The first was a cute selfie. She was lying on her back, and her arms pressed her small breasts together to create just a little bit of cleavage, barely visible in the deep V-neck of her shirt. Her tongue was out, curling towards her chin; her long thin straight nose scrunched above it, her eyes were squeezed shut, and her dark hair spread across her pillow.

The second was the same, with two critical differences. Her eyes were open, teeth bared in a playful snarl. And, perhaps more importantly, she'd pulled her shirt up to her shoulders. Her breasts lay flat against her chest, warm tan orbs crowned with dark areolas scarcely larger than the hard nipples standing proudly in their centers. She was teasing one, pinching it lightly between her slender fingers; it wasn't until the third or fourth time I looked that I noticed she'd painted her nails a deep violet.

And the third... Her face wasn't visible at all. She'd aimed the camera between the shallow valley of her cleavage, and its gaze traveled down her flat stomach sculpted by years of yoga and Pilates, down to the lilac band of her panties and, beyond, her slim thighs, knees bent, pressed together. Her hand was in her panties, tenting the fabric. I'd had my tongue where those fingers were, and it was a picture I could taste, and smell, and hear, and badly wanted to again. Friday couldn't come soon enough, if we made it that long.

Sent at 5:21am by Dafydd W:

Good morning, buddy.

Yeah, 6:45 is fine.

Also, oh my God those pictures were hot. Fuck. ????

What a way to wake up.

Sent at 5:25am by Emily R:

u like??

Sent at 5:26am by Dafydd W:

Very much. Second-best morning this year.

Sent at 5:28am by Emily R:

wait which one was better?

Sent at 5:2am by Dafydd W:

Saturday morning, waking up with you.

Dummy.

Sent at 5:29am by Emily R:

????

awww

that was sweet

send me one ????

I sent her back a photo from my bathroom, shirtless, loose hair spilling down my back and across my shoulders. I'd started to develop a little farmer's tan, and the subtle tan line on my bicep was visible as I brushed my teeth.

Sent at 5:32am by Emily R:

hot ????

but not what i wanted

show a girl the goods

Well then. I finished brushing my teeth and took a moment to pull together the clothes I'd wear. Then I set about getting myself fully hard. With the material Emily had sent, it wasn't especially difficult. I took one in the bathroom, but it looked gross under the lights. I'd never had a girl ask for a dick pic before, not like this; Liv had occasionally wanted video or post-nut photos, but that's an entirely different business. I wanted to impress, if that was possible. I padded down the short hallway to the house's main room, a combination living and dining room with windows on three sides, separated from the kitchen by a marble-topped counter. I propped my phone against a tall coffee mug and took another one, standing at a little angle in the golden morning light, cock jutting out as I tried to subtly flex the muscles in my butt, thighs and core. Satisfied, I sent it off and dressed.

Sent at 5:45am by Emily R:

???? ????

cant wait to feel that again

Sent at 5:48am by Dafydd W:

Buddy, I can't wait until Friday.

Sent at 5:50am by Emily R:

me tooooo

u know, if u get here a lil early maybe we could make out a little??

Sent at 5:52am by Dafydd W:

I'll be there as soon as I can!

I arrived at 6:39am, and we made out a little in her parking lot before she drove us to work, driving aggressive and fast in her little sportscar. We tried to talk about work, not sex, but it was there with us in the car the whole way.

The last thing she said to me before we went our separate ways – me to the low course, her to the pond – was a suggestion that I not check my phone around other people, and especially not around the kids.

**

That turned out to be a good suggestion. My phone buzzed off and on all day with a steady stream of pictures. Emily in the bathroom, giving a V sign to the mirror in her bikini top and shorts. A selfie from her canoe, cute, grinning ear to ear with the rock walls of the pond in the background. A slightly blurry photo from an odd angle, taken quickly, of her tongue stuffed in her cheek and her hand cupped as if giving a blowjob to the air. A series of photos that must have been from her modeling days – sandy butts, oiled breasts, hair blowing in the breeze; sunsets and palm trees, pools and shower stalls; water caressing her body. A quickly-taken close-up of a nipple that came in shortly before lunch. A shot taken down the length of her torso as she lounged on the bench, a sort-of safe-for-work cousin of what she'd sent me last night. And finally, after the pond crew had returned to the cabin and gone away to change, Emily in a bathroom stall, naked to the waist, hefting her breast and planting a kiss on it.

I'd only sent her two in return. One was a pretty standard selfie; I'd taken it at a low angle to make it less obvious. For the second, I'd pled a need for the bathroom between groups and risked a mirror selfie with my shirt unbuttoned and shorts tugged down low, showing off as much as I could without being wholly out of luck if someone came in. We were, after all, at a school, and workplace nudes carried a certain degree of risk. Fortunately, she'd been appreciative and understanding.

We talked about it in the car on the way back, speaking loud over the wind-noise from the open windows and the thump-thump-thump of her music.

"I can't believe you risked a nipple picture," I said.

"It wasn't that much of a risk," she said, smiling her smile, warm and sweet and playful all at once. "I left my water bottle on the bench, let Scott and Ryan get a little ahead of me and told 'em I needed to run back and get it."

"Still, though. It was hot. I'm glad Thom made us wait to go to lunch, or I'd have had to walk all that way with a boner."

"Oh, no," she said with all the gravity of a judge. "Inconvenienced by a hot photo. How terrible."

"Shut up, beautiful," I said. "Sorry I didn't get as risky as you."

She laughed, hair blowing in the wind as she negotiated a curve much faster than I'd taken it the day before. "I told you, I like showing off and I like attention. And I like a little bit of risky, too. Before I moved here I was so, I don't know, so upset after what happened last year that I shut down a bit."

"And now you're coming back online?"

"You're getting the full Emily, buddy." She laughed again. "I'm happy! I haven't been happy, like really happy, in a long time." I was watching her, and when she glanced at me our eyes met, and I remembered how beautiful she was. I hadn't thought about it in whole minutes.

"I am too," I said. "I really am. I don't know what we have but it feels special."

"It does."

I didn't want to say the next thing. We were going to talk Friday about us and whatever that meant, whether we were going to make the jump from friends, buddies, sexual partners, to something else, something more, and now, in the car, wasn't the time to pre-empt that conversation. Especially because, I admitted to myself, I'm scared to distract her. She really did drive very fast.

"Hopefully my pictures were good enough," I said instead.

"They were," she said, "but, you know. I could always use more. Just to evaluate."

"You want to know what you'll be working with on Friday?"

She giggled. "No, I have a pretty good idea. But I'm going to wear out the one you sent this morning if you don't give me more."

"Gotta feed the addiction, huh?"

"You know it."

"Tell you what," I said. "I'll trade you. I'll send you whatever you want if you send me an equivalent."

"Ooooh," she said. "So if I want something, I just have to send you a picture first?"

"Within reason," I said, feeling like I had to clarify. "Within reason. I'm not gonna whip it out on the zip platform, okay?"

"Awww," she pouted. "Please?"

"No. No getting fired, no getting arrested," I laughed.

"You're no fun," she said, and stuck her tongue out at me.

"Careful. I might kiss that later."

"You promise?"

**

Sent at 5:26pm by Emily R:

A photograph: Emily at a rock climbing gym.

She's standing in the bouldering area.

There are five, no, six people visible in the background,

standing out in front of the grey walls and bright plastic holds.

Sent at 5:32pm by Dafydd W:

Nice! Have fun.

A photograph: A high-angle selfie of Dafydd in his kitchen.

His hair is down, held back with an orange fabric headband.

Sunlight from the window catches on the feather-brown

streaks at his temples and on his cheeks.

There's a sliced tomato visible on a cutting board,

and a cast-iron pan on the stove.

Sent at 5:35pm by Emily R:

i am!

whatcha cooking?

the girls want to meet u

A photograph: Emily in the center of a group of girls.

Left: a short, muscular Black girl. Her hair is in cornrows.

Her hand is on her hip. She's wearing a matching black leggings-and-top combo.

Center-left: a brunette in a white T-shirt and trucker hat.

Her long curly hair spills out from under the cap.

She's not smiling.

Center: Emily. She's as hot as she was an hour ago.

She's in the yellow tank top she wore last week.

The dimple in her chin is clearly visible below her smile,

and her coffee-brown eyes smolder above it.

Center-right: a tall redhead with freckles dusting her dusky skin.

Her curly ponytail is draped across her shoulder.

Her arm is around Emily's waist.

A little girl with a gap-toothed smile hugs her leg.

Right: a slender blonde whose bright blue eyes look out from deep circles of makeup.

Her smile is cool, a little amused.

She has a stud in her eyebrow, and several in her ears.

A colorful sleeve tattoo stretches from her left shoulder to her forearm.

Sent at 5:37pm by Dafydd W:

Greek salad with some leftover turkey. I don't want it to go to waste.

I'd love to meet them.

... You're by far my prettiest buddy