“I can’t believe I have to spend my summer with you,” Buffy complained.
“Hey, I’m not happy about it either,” Spike replied. “And why the hell can’t you carry your own bloody bags?”
Buffy flipped her hair. “I just got my nails done.”
“I just got my nails done,” Spike mimicked, “I’m a lazy little princess.”
Buffy glared at her stepbrother, and then stomped into the house. She really didn’t want to spend a day with him, much less an entire summer. But their parents were going on a season long tour of Europe, and insisted that both of them remain in the summer home. When Buffy tried to protest, they threatened to take her credit cards and her allowance away.
Spike was just as angry about it as Buffy was. He couldn’t stand her. He planned to spend as much of his time as possible in town. Maybe he could find himself a girl to keep him company during the long, long hot summer.
He entered the large house, and without ceremony, dropped her bags on the floor.
“Are you just going to leave those there?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Fine. I’ll just call Reginald.”
“Would it kill you to carry your own bags? I mean, really? Would it?”
“Yes.”
She stormed up the stairs, then turned around at the top. “Oh, and Spike, I’m going to be using the pool this afternoon.”
“So?”
“So, I don’t want to see you there.”
Spike had had no intention of swimming until she made her announcement, then he resolved to spend the entire afternoon there. Bossy little chit. Who did she think she was?
“Don’t worry,” he said with a wide, insincere smile.
Thirty minutes later, Buffy was sunning herself leisurely before a large, seashell-shaped pool. She had on a white bikini and white oversized sunglasses, her hair was pulled back. Spike had to admit, she did look good. Damn good. Her breasts were a nice size, high and firm, and her legs were smooth and curvy. Her waist was small, but she wasn’t skin and bones. She looked like the picture of health.
It was easy to avoid thinking of her when she was out of his sight, or just being a real bitch. But some days her beauty caught him completely unawares, and all he could do was stare at her. Too bad that she was such an impossible brat to live with, because otherwise, their living arrangements would be very pleasant indeed.
She’d probably freak out if she ever knew how Spike looked at her, how he thought about her at night when he was beating off. So he kept the fact well hidden behind contempt and disgust. As far as Buffy knew, Spike didn’t see one redeeming quality in her.
Which was fine with her, because she didn’t see one redeeming quality in him. He was loud, and brash, and annoying. He listened to stupid music that he blasted until she had a headache. He drove a stupid motorcycle, and thought he was real hotshit. The first time he bleached his hair, all she could do was roll her eyes. Though she did admit to herself that he looked pretty good with bleached hair. And when she wasn’t completely annoyed or pissed at him, she could see why all of her girlfriends practically wet themselves over him. He could be pretty cute when we wanted to be.
Now wasn’t one of those times, however. He was standing over her, blocking her light, and smirking.
“What do you want?” Buffy snapped. “I thought I told you not to come out here.”
“You’re not the boss of me, Princess.”
“If you must be out here, can you just sit down and leave me alone?”
“No, I think I will go for a swim.”
He climed to the top of the jumping board, and jumped as high as he could, landing with a large splash. Water went everywhere, including all over Buffy.
She jumped up, spluttering with anger. She looked kind of like a wet kitten, all indignant fury and claws. “You jerk! You got me soaking wet!”
“Honey, you’re at the pool. You’re supposed to get wet.”
“If I wanted to get wet,” she said slowly, between gritted teeth, “I would have jumped in the pool.”
