Never Let Me Go

A hunky James-Dean-wannabe is eating an apple by the pool side—my pool side. I processed sluggishly even after staring for five minutes straight. Who was he? What was he doing there? Didn't he know this was private propriety? My house was in Orange county, you had to pass a gate to come in—so obviously he hadn't waltzed in. Made a pass at the security guard? Sure. How? No clue. I wasn't big on breaking rules or laws—anyway, I needed to back up to five minutes earlier, before I drew my curtains apart.

Maybe he was just a mirage, a dream. After seventeen years of attending a girl-only school I was bond to imagine stuff as yummy as... him.

I'd woken up with a phone call from Christy saying she'd arrive tomorrow from L.A. I rolled around in bed afterwards, like I always did, burying my head into the pillow as I went. Then, when I was sure my legs wouldn't give out, I pushed the sheets off, got up and... peeked outside. And sure enough there he was. A masterpiece of total-hotness.

I blinked my eyes—nope. Still there.

All I could make out from my second floor bedroom window was the taut skin and dark James-Dean styled hair.

My forehead was already pressing into the glass when the mysterious stranger's head tipped—I fell to the floor breathing quickly. Had he seen me? So what if he had? I was in my house. He wasn't! Slowly my toes curled making me glance down. I grimaced, I was in my house and still in my pj's. In a very childish looking ones, too. I hadn't had time to unpack and puppy pajamas had been all I had found.

Quickly, I launched to my feet going for my suitcase. I tore a pair of shorts, a top and rushed to the drawer where I kept my lady underwear. After spending one month away in Paris with my aunt I was fairly certain I was seeing things. Aunt Ariel was the opposite of my mom. She liked boys, in fact, she liked them so much I didn't have hopes of her ever settling down. No cousins for me.

Mom's "fear" of men was understandable, though. That's why she sent me to a private girl school. It was sick to think those still existed and I had to frequent one, it sure didn't help my dating life.

The point was, aunt Ariel had told me so many stories about boys, things she'd done when she'd been my age—my brain was overflowing with stupid ideas, mom would say. James-Dean-copy was probably a figment of my imagination. That's what I kept thinking as I ran downstairs almost tripping, breaking my neck. That wouldn't be good, Caroline would pretty much faint if she saw me lying dead.

At the designer's living room mom had long ago paid for, I stopped at the glass doors leading out into the pool area.

There, by my kidney shaped pool, was the sexiest vision I had ever conjured. Not thinking over what I could be putting in danger—such as my own safety—I lowered the knob. I wasn't wearing shoes, or socks, I noted when my feet stepped onto the warm patio. The sun was shining like any other summer day, California was prone to good sunbathing. The red skin on his shoulders told me he'd been sitting out here for more than thirty-minutes. The Copy Cat wasn't pale, not entirely, but he didn't have much of a tan either—I could tell he wasn't from around.

Just as I neared with more cautious steps his head turned up, the guy leaned back on one arm.

Ripped skin everywhere, my brain entered a loop of constant awe. My heart bobbed up and down, it was jumping, as a crooked smirk caught up to me.

"Hi," he tore a chunk of the apple. "I'm Liam."

James-Dean-wannabe had a Brit accent—oh, and an actual name.

"Huh... hey?" I waved lamely; squinting my eyes at the open pool house door. "Did you break into our pool house?"

Liam stopped mid-bite. He gave me a look-over—I felt myself waver a step as a set of leaf eyes stopped on mine. The green hue pulsed as I closed my mouth.

"You serious?" he leaned away from the pool's edge. The jeans low on his hips, I could see imprinted ridges—aunt Ariel would totally rate this mysterious, break-in, James-Dean-wannabe as a top five worth kind of guy.

My head nodded all on its own. He had abs. My Lord. I had never seen a guy this up close, not even in the beach—it made me so sad and miserable I wanted to run into the kitchen and eat Ben&Jerri's. Caroline had probably bought a box.

"Of course I am." I reverted to my slapped state. "Why else would you be here?" I pointed my head to the pool house that I used as my personal hang-out.

He tilted his head back, shadowing his eyes with an arm. Did I need to expand how lean and curvy the biceps were? 'Cause the only way I knew how to explain was: a lot.

"Didn't your mum tell you?" Liam finished off another piece of apple as I stared at him like a stunned puppy.

"Tell me what?" what was this guy's business with my mom? How did he even know my mother?

With the kind of smile you'd expect from a celebrity with a huge dental bill—Liam got up. He shadowed the sun, I was encased in his shadow.

Jinkies. He was tall.

"I've been livin' here." I gasped unsure if my ears had betrayed me. "In the pool house." His chin jerked toward it leaving no room from doubts.

"Why? How? Why?" I had widened my eyes 'till the point I thought they'd pop out.

Three excellent questions, my mind awarded, but did you have to make it sound like you never talk to boys?

It wouldn't be much of a lie saying I didn't.

Impish smirk on, Liam swallowed the rest of his fruit.

"I needed a place to stay, that's the why." I was much more interested in the 'how'. I wasn't aware my pool house was up for being rented. "Your mum was looking for a pool boy—so here I am. I thought she'd told you," he hooked his thumbs on the belt loops. "Ms. Carlyle said you'd know before coming back."

Well, Ms. Carlyle—Aka mom—had told me nothing. Pool boy? Why did we need a pool boy? All my seventeen years of live had been marked by my father's abandonment. Mom had gone all feminist, that's what Caroline said. She'd known my mom for a long time before I was born, she worked at my grandparents house, now, she was with us. So, I'd say she knew her pretty damn well. Mom had been with John for eleven years, he already felt like a dad, just not on paper. That, and mom wasn't tying the knot. Meaning men and her didn't mix, not while they lived in the same house. And now... she had hired a pool boy?

"No way," I mumbled.

"Yeah, okay," Liam moved to the left, tossing the apple's core into the trash can. "You're right. I'm just a lodger, I broke in last night and now I'm hangin' around so I'll get the cops called on me. It's always been my dream to get arrested in a upperclassmen neighborhood." He furrowed his brows, delivering me a look—grinning at the flushed complexion my cheeks had. "Much more sense." He crossed his arms—oh. His pecks were flexing, sticking out—didn't he own a shirt?

"No way you're a pool boy—our pool boy. We don't need one." It's true, we didn't need someone to clean the pool. When stuff fell in, like leaves or dead bugs, I just used the pool skimmer. "I know how to clean a stinking pool." I huffed hunching my shoulders when someone came up behind me. Turning my head I saw the causer of all of my problems—Ms. Carlyle, also known as Jamie or as I liked to call her, mom.

"Oh, lovey." I could've cried then. Did she need to call me that nickname? Of all the ones along the years, mom had to call me that one? Argh, it was the most embarrassing ever. "Goodmor—"

"Why's there a guy in our pool house?" I burst turning my back to the steaming hot dude. "Mom?" I pressed crossing my arms tighter.

Her thin blond hair was much paler than mine—strawberry had probably come from dad—the eyes equaled mine, arctic blue. They were sort of jumping like out of control frogs at the moment—from me to barrel-chested guy.

Clearing her throat softly, her cunning features, soft and girl-like were passive as mom looked to Liam.

"Could you leave us alone for a minute, Liam?" her friendly-morning-smile-just-before-going-to-work was present. "I need to talk to Sophie about this."

"Sure thing, Ms. Carlyle." I heard in a polite, humble tone—much more humbler than the smartass tone he'd taken with me.

"Thanks," I continued to stare, drilling into my mother's eyes. "I was going to tell you yesterday. Remember before you got on the plane?" she leaned in. "We were talking on the phone...?"

"Yeah," I said with a shrug.

"Remember I said I needed to talk about something important?" I nodded slowly, knowing where this was leading. "Remember how you hung up because you couldn't wait another minute to get on the plane?"

"Well, that was true. It was going to leave without me on it." I nearly fell over out of breath to reach it on time. "But what is this... exactly? Why didn't you tell me yesterday—when I got home from the airport?"

"I sleep-walked you to your bed, honey, I didn't think it was a good time. Not sure you would listen, little alone remember."

"Okay, fine!" I held up my hands. "I'm awake now. Tell me." I demanded in a harsh whisper, afraid Mr. Cheekbones was standing too close for comfort. "Why do we need a pool boy when I'm perfectly capable of cleaning the pool?"

Mom rolled her eyes slightly, the nerve—I should be angry at her. Giving me a heart attack...

"He's not the pool boy," she paused. "Well, maybe—but that's not why he's here." I squared a look at mom, facing her head on, waiting for the big surprise. "John had this idea... he had the feeling that you needed to get close to... well, a boy." Oh, Christ. I didn't like how this was starting out. "For seventeen years you haven't had experiences with boys or big interactions, get what I'm saying?" I most certainly did. She never let me hang out with the opposite sex because they were lying bastards. "He thought—me too—that it would be nice to chance that. To give you a chance to start mingling with guys—slowly." Oh Lordie, Lord.

"You're... you're saying Liam's here to... to...?" I didn't know how to go about that. Completely drawing a blank; it was too early and I hadn't had anything to eat yet.

"He's your... interacting buddy. Think of him as a door into the world of men." Like a textbook? I used him to know how guys thought, what they did, liked—that kind of thing? I really wished I had had a father. A male role model, this wouldn't be happening right now.

"How..." I shook my head, pushing some hair aside—I hadn't brushed it the slightest. Great, it was all tangled. Liam had definitely seen me at my best. "How did you find him—he's a stranger—did you hold auditions?"

"No," she sounded disgusted and slightly off balanced. "He's a friend of John's nephew, you know, Carl—"

"Yeah, yeah. The one that's studying in London. So what, you called him, he came?" I urged with a doubtful tone. Mom nodded. "Why, he didn't have any prospects in life?"

"Sophie," mom warned with a widening of her eyes. "He's a nice kid."

"A nice kid?" I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mother's mouth. "How long have you known him? A week?"

"A month," I opened my mouth, jaw clacking on the floor. "Don't look like that." She pleaded.

I shook myself out of a rapidly growing stupor—just how long ago had this crazy idea been planned?

"A whole month? You mean the month I was out in Paris? He was here—living here?" she sighed closing her eyes—nodding. "So what, you just hid him here like... like a surprise birthday present?" I hissed feeling all dirty when my mind dumped his naked chest on me. "He's not a puppy, mom—he's a human being. A guy!"

"I'm well aware of that, lovey."

I actually did that cliché thing—I stomped my foot.

"Do you? All I ever heard from you was how guys were pigs." Except for John. Mom never said anything about him.

Tilting her head she pulled me closer. A condescending glare fell down on my eyes.

"Honey," she began. "I wouldn't be okay with this if I thought this boy was some sort of crazy-addict or a serial murderer. That's why me and John got to know him over the month you were away—we liked him. He wanted a changed from London and here he is." Mom cupped my cheeks gently, I could truly feel my heartbeat slowing. "I know what I've raised you to believe in, I know I said the worst things about men all around... but..." she bit her lip, actually looking a bit teary eyed. "But next year you're off to College and well... I haven't let you be within fifty feet of a male since you were born—expect for John," see? "He's right, you need to know how to... act. And not just that." She made it sound like I never spoke to another guy—ever. Which I had obviously; when she said I hadn't been around one she meant I never had a guy friend, never had a guy come over from school—never had a boyfriend or... experiences. "John's idea isn't bad, right?" I couldn't really think about it this second. "You can talk to Liam, he'll take you wherever you want to go—since we agreed you'll only get your license when your twenty." Hated that rule. "He'll be your..." employe? Boy on demand? I didn't like the sound of that. It made seem so... pretentious. "He'll be like an older brother." Ah, really?

"That's what you're going with? Older brother?" mom sharpened her glare. "Fine," I smiled sarcastically.

This was unbelievable. Simply stupid, bordering the insane—it was like my mom was paying a guy to be my friend. I could make friends on my own if she just let me.

My mother's arm went around my shoulders, pulling me closer.

"Promise you'll give this a try?" her icy eyes glinted hopefully.

Drawing in a big breath, I said, "Why is this such a big deal...? You hate most male population, everything you've said all these years—"

"I," she drew out. "Might have been wrong—sometimes—maybe I should have let you form an idea of your own."

Jumping at the opportunity I made puppy dog eyes.

"It's not too late, I can do that, I can form an... an opinion. Just let me go to a normal school, you know, one with guys and girls?" I blabbed quickly. "I'm sure I can make out what I think of boys there. I don't need... him." I frowned shaking my head.

Now mom had the mother glare on; she was two seconds away from dropping a 'I know better than you' speech.

"Nonsense," she wagged her finger in front of my face. "Newport Academy for Girls is a wonderful educational establishment. I didn't just enroll you there because there weren't boys—" but it was one of the reasons, she just never said it. "It's your final year in high school, Sophie, do you really want to switch schools? What about your friends?" I didn't like it when she threw coherent reasons at me. Mom always won our arguments.

"Can I just say this is the stupidest idea you and John have ever had?" I crossed my arms. Not enjoying the idea of having a guy living in my pool house, or driving me anywhere—I didn't even like the thought of talking to him.

I got all flustered because of his stupid chest.

"Just try and be nice?" be nice to a person who had come from England to be my paid friend? "Sophia?"

Rolling my eyes I blew out a sigh.

"It's not going to change anything..."

"What was that?"

My eyes blinked; I had a pretty formed idea about men. With the stories my aunt told me and all the stuff mom said, I didn't think I needed a man. Women were better off independent.