The Carlyles Read Online Free PDF Page B

Now that they finally had the chance to be together, Rhys really didn’t want to be drunk.
    He ducked his head under the water and began a fast butterfly. As his strong arms knifed into the water, he got into a rhythm and began to feel better. Butterfly was his favorite stroke because it was both powerful and tender. You had to work with the water and against it at the same time. He’d always thought it was kind of similar to sex.
    Not that he would know.
    For the whole summer, all Rhys had been able to think about was his and Kelsey’s end-of-year promise: as soon as they saw each other again, they’d make love for the first time.
    Make love? Oh brother.
    Rhys and Kelsey had known each other since they were in the same highly selective kindergarten class at All Souls on Lexington. Even then, he’d asked her to be his Valentine, a moment Lady Sterling had caught on tape and replayed every February 14 on her show. They’d begun dating seriously at the beginning of ninth grade and now, like jazz music and red wine, they belonged together.
    Tonight, he sort of hoped he wouldn’t have to say anything. They’d be so excited to see each other it would just . . . happen.
    “Anyone here?” a voice called out through the steamy air. Rhys stopped mid-stroke, surprised to see Kelsey standing in the doorframe. She was early. She was beautiful. Just seeing the way the delicate gold Me&Ro anklet he’d given her hung from her tan ankle made him feel like he was about to burst.
    “Hey.” Kelsey stepped toward the side of the pool, her tan arms wrapped around her chest. Rhys pulled himself up from the ledge and grabbed her in a huge bear hug. Her hair smelled like apples.
    “Rhys! You’re all wet!” she giggled, her face breaking into a sunny smile that showed her slightly crooked teeth.
    “Sorry about that.” He stepped back and picked up a towel from a nearby bench, knotting it right below his slim hips.
    “It’s okay,” Kelsey conceded as she wrinkled her slightly upturned nose and planted a delicate kiss on his lips. She stepped back and wrung out the hem of her knee-length dress. “How are you?”
    “Good,” Rhys murmured. “I mean, now I am.” Or at least, he would be soon. He had two bottles of Cristal chilling in his bedroom that he had taken from his banker father’s large stash. And he knew it was cheesy, but he had also gotten two dozen Sterling roses from the florist shop on the corner as he was coming home from the park.
    Nothing like drinking forties to bring out a guy’s romantic side.
    “Race you?” She raised her eyebrow suggestively, like she knew a delicious secret. Rhys had forgotten how infectious her enthusiasm was. He hated those girls who pretended to be too cool for everything, and Kelsey was the total opposite: everything from The Starry Night at MoMA to a Jacques Torres caramel made her smile.
    Kelsey bounded up the wide stairs to the main floor of the Sterling town house, which was built with broad, oak beams that made it seem more like an Old English manor house than a mansion on the Upper East Side of Manhattan. All of the furniture was heavy and dark and utilitarian, rescued from various castles throughout Europe, making it look blandly austere, even in the daytime.
    As they raced up the wide, red-carpeted stairs at the center of the living room, Rhys couldn’t tear his eyes away from Kelsey’s athletic, freckled calves and the easy swish of her dress. He said a silent prayer that his mother wouldn’t hear them. The last thing he needed was to get into a lengthy conversation about teen trends that would invariably be part of the back-to-school segment on Tea with Lady Sterling .
    Teen trend: losing your virginity on a bed of rose petals from the bodega on Seventy-ninth and Madison.
    He beat Kelsey up the stairs and catapulted into his bedroom suite on the third floor. Quickly he lit the white Bond No. 9 candles he’d bought for the occasion and cued Snow Patrol on his Bose iPod