It's July of 2018, I’m 18 and just graduated. I'm 5’8”, have an average swimmer's build from swimming for years. High school was normal except for Brandon. Brandon had spent the past four years of high school making my life miserable: locker slams, “short king” jokes, the usual.

He had an older sister, Riley, who was two years ahead of us, former head cheerleader, now a sophomore at the University of Alabama. I remembered her as this untouchable goddess who once told Brandon to “leave the poor kid alone” when he tried to dump Gatorade on me junior year. That was literally our only real interaction.

Fast-forward to the second week of July. Brandon’s at some football camp in Texas for three weeks. I’m grabbing a burger downtown when a white Tahoe pulls up blasting Luke Bryan, and Riley hops out in tiny white shorts and a crimson Bama tank, hair in a high ponytail, Ray-Bans on.

“Hey, Aquaboy!” she yells across the parking lot, using my high school nickname. “Mom said you mow lawns now. Brandon flaked on the yard before he left, and it looks like a jungle. Fifty bucks if you come tomorrow?”

I’m standing there, confused as hell. I definitely did not mow lawns. But fifty bucks is fifty bucks, so I say yes.

The next morning, I show up at 8 AM. Riley answers the door sleepily in an oversized T-shirt that hits mid-thigh. Bare feet, no makeup, still stupidly pretty. She hands me a cold Coke, says “pool’s open when you’re done,” and disappears inside.

I finish in two hours and walk around the house to their backyard, where the pool is. She’s on a lounger in a skimpy white bikini, sunglasses, reading something on a Kindle. She pays me, then goes, “You look hot. Come swim and cool down. I owe you a beer.”

I keep waiting for the catch. There is none. We end up floating in the pool all afternoon, talking about college, wild parties, and how Brandon apparently cried when she left for Bama because he was scared she’d never come back. She keeps calling him “my idiot little brother” and apologizing for the years he was a dick to me. I’m still convinced this is an elaborate prank.

It becomes a daily occurrence. I show up “for yard touch-ups” that take ten minutes, then spend the rest of the day with her. She teaches me how to shotgun a beer, makes me reapply sunscreen on her back (and front, eventually), blasts country playlists, takes a million selfies with me in the background. At night, we watch movies in the basement, her legs thrown over mine, head on my chest like we’ve been dating forever. I’m constantly waiting for Brandon to jump out of a closet with his phone recording.

Saturday morning, she texts: “Parents have gone to the lake till Monday. come over, I’m making banana bread *wink emoji* and we’re having a bonfire. Bring a swimsuit and stay the night.”

I'm naive as ever and just think we're just hanging out and just reply "Sure!" I get there at sunset, hopping out of the Uber. She opens the front door in tiny denim cutoffs and a crimson crop top, barefoot, hair wavy. We eat tacos on the patio, drink margaritas she definitely didn’t measure, start a fire in the pit. By 11, the fire’s low, stars are out, and she’s curled against my side under a blanket.

She sits quietly for a long time, then says, “You know I always thought you were cute, right? Brandon used to whine about how fast you were in the water and I’d sneak looks at meets. I felt bad he was such a tool to you.”

I do a double-take at her and then laugh, still half-waiting for the punchline. She doesn’t laugh. Just looks up at me with those green eyes, leans in, and kisses me. Soft, slow, tasting like lime and salt. My brain short-circuits.

Next thing I know, we’re inside, stumbling down to the basement. Lights dim, some slow country song playing. She pulls her crop top off and stands there. She’s even prettier than I imagined: 5’3”, golden tan with bikini lines, C-cups with pale pink nipples, tiny waist, hips that curve out just right.

We start kissing like we’re trying to make up for lost time. Shorts gone, she’s in just a red thong now. I pick her up easily, she wraps her legs around my waist, and we fall onto the couch. I kiss down her neck, her chest, sucking her nipples until she’s arching and whimpering, “please.”

She then gets on her knees and pulls my shorts down and lets out this soft, happy “mmm” as she pulls out my cock. She wraps her hand around my shaft and gives it a couple of slow strokes. She takes me into her mouth, sucking, lots of tongue, lots of eye contact. I have to stop her before I embarrass myself.

I slide her thong off, spread her legs, lick her moist slit before going down on her, until she’s grabbing my hair and pressing hard against my tongue. She tastes sweet, thighs shaking around my ears.

She pulls me up, kisses me, while softly stroking me. She then pushes me onto my back and climbs on top. Sinks down inch by inch, eyes fluttering and rolling back, a little gasp when I’m all the way in. She’s tight, walls clamping around me. She rides slowly at first, hands on my chest, hair falling around us. Then she picks up the pace, grinding her clit against me, telling me how good I feel as her tits jiggle up and down.

After a while, I pull out and flip her over onto her back, hook her legs over my shoulders, and begin to pound her deep and steady in missionary. The couch is creaking, she’s biting her lip to stay quiet, nails digging into my back. She cums again, clenching so hard I almost lose it.

I flip her on her stomach and tease her folds with the tip of my head before sliding in from behind, one hand rubbing slow circles on her clit while I thrust into her doggy. She pushes back to meet me, our bodies smashing together over and over again as she cums for the third time, shrieking into a pillow. As we continue, my breath starts to get ragged, abs tight, every muscle taut as the pressure builds down there. One last hard thrust forward before I pull out of her and shoot ropes across her lower back while she sighs.

We waltz to the shower together to clean up, but end up going at it again. Riley pressed against the tile with one leg up in the air, water running cold before we were done. We passed out tangled in her bed, and woke up twice in the night for lazy, half-asleep sex.

She drives me home on Monday, wearing my T-shirt, kisses me in my driveway, and says, “Text me when you’re back for Thanksgiving in the fall."

Still have no idea why she picked me, but I’m not complaining. Best revenge I never planned.