Finally...One Summer (Just One of the Guys)

by Kristi Pelton

  And that cake. Was it edible? They were going to Seattle. Was he? Or…was he going to be alone on his birthday?

  Mom and dad still weren’t home. I checked the phone…no messages or calls so I plopped in front of the computer and decided to get on Facebook, downing a bottle of water. I needed to get my mind off of how insignificant I felt at this moment. I logged on.

  An intense fury swept through me as I saw a message from Jaycee on my page.

  Emma- it was good seeing you in North Bend! Sorry for you to have to find out that way. Your friend J

  I wanted to vomit. Bitch! I grabbed the phone to call Zach. She was so mean spirited…why didn’t he see that? Ali had left a couple of messages too, but I was too upset to read them. Against my better judgment as I dialed, I went to Jaycee’s page surprised she hadn’t blocked me, but then realized why she hadn’t. Air shot up the back of my throat as if someone kicked me in the stomach. The page was loaded with pictures of her and the crew—Zach included.

  “Hey. Twice in one day?” Zach answered.

  I glanced at the phone near my ear but no words came. Just short bursts of air, a tearless sobbing that seemed uncontrollable.

  “Emma? What’s wrong?” he asked.

  A frantic panic settled over me as my eyes darted from picture to picture. There were so many. Zach and Jayeee together…smiling. In the dune buggy, on the beach. Most were group shots but they appeared as a couple. A freaking happy couple. I traced his smile with my fingertip across the computer monitor.

  “Em? Please. Talk to me.” He was worried.

  Good. He should be worried.

  “Zach, what’s wrong?” I heard a girl ask and my eyes nearly popped out of my head.

  “I don’t know, Mom. Something’s wrong.”

  “Em?” His tone was quiet now. He was with his mom.

  “You lied to me,” I whispered.

  He sighed when he heard my voice. “What did I lie about?”

  “You said there was nothing between you. I don’t believe you.”

  “Why? What changed your mind from this morning?”

  I sat frozen at the desk. “The pictures. I’ve seen them. You and her…all of them. Don’t bother denying it. And you know what…it’s OK,” I cried. “It’s OK. You should be happy and you look happy here.” I placed my hand on my chest to make sure it wasn’t literally crushing my heart. “I’ll give you your clothes when I get back next week.”

  “Emma, stop! I don’t know what in the hell you’re talking about. Don’t do this.”

  “Honey, don’t yell at her.” His mother said in the background.

  I couldn’t stand this…his mom being there. I loved her too.

  “Check out her Facebook page or should I say your guys’ page. I have to go before I get caught with the phone.”

  “I’ll look at it. Don’t hang up. Give me a minute to get on.” He was running.

  “Zach.”

  “What, baby?”

  This time the name hurt in a different way than before.

  “I will always love you.” I slid the phone closed as the tears broke free. I shut off the computer and ran up the stairs diving face down on my bed.

  My mom woke me up and it was three in the afternoon.

  “You feeling OK?”

  I slowly rotated my head from side to side.

  “What’s wrong?” she spoke softly.

  “Zach and I broke up, Mom.” My chin quivered so hard it hurt and her arms wrapped around me. I couldn’t believe being held by my mother could feel as good as it did at this moment.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

  I sat upright and wiped my tears. “No. It hurts too bad.”

  She pressed my head to her shoulder. “I know it does, sugar. It’s like no other hurt there is.” She hummed for a few seconds like she did when I was little. “Does Austin know? Is that why he’s been by twice looking for you?”

  God…Austin’s birthday. I’d forgotten. So, he didn’t go to Seattle. I nodded. “He kind of knows. We have plans tonight for his birthday.”

  She patted my back. “Good for you. You could use some plans. Grant and Ryan won’t be home until tomorrow.”

  I didn’t feel much like going but I needed to. Austin had been too good to me over the past few days. I forced myself to get around and head to his place.

  I was at least a hundred yards from his deck when he came running out of the house.

  “Where have you been? Why did you leave?”

  I forced a smile. “Well, I kind of intruded earlier. You were with your family and…kind of busy.”

  “Em…you know…”

  A shocking crack of thunder rippled through the sky warning us of the brewing storm. We both swiveled around and glanced at the darkened horizon. Lightening streaks danced behind us and rain began to fall on the building ocean swells.

  He grinned. “We better get in,” he said and rain began pelting us before the words were out. “Let’s go!” He reached for my hand and we took off.

  The house was warm and still smelled good. My clothes dripped on the marble floor and sand stuck to my shoes. I quickly slid them off.

  “Austin. The floor. I’m sorry.”

  He puckered his lips. “We live on a beach. It’s OK. Want some dry clothes?” He walked through the massive kitchen and I followed. The marble was cold to my feet. A wrought iron spiral staircase led to a balcony overlooking the great room. A spiral staircase. It seemed Nancy Drewish. He started up.

  “Shall I come?” I asked.

  “Please.”

  At the top, there were bedrooms off the balcony. I peeked in each as I walked slowly past, none seemed lived in. Until Austin’s, and his was just like I’d have pictured. A little darker than I imagined. Black and silver duvet, curtains, lamp shades. A flat screen TV took up a partial wall and a full CD/DVD rack stood next to it. He opened a closet door and disappeared.

  “I still have your clothes from yesterday. I’ll get ‘em back to you tomorrow,” I said still following him. The closet smelled like him. My eyes roamed over the rows of hanging clothes, columns of folded ones and the shoe storage.

  “Think I’ll miss em?” He winked.

  His cavalier attitude caught me off-guard.

  I shrugged. “Oh-my-God! You have more clothes than… You have too much money!”

  His brows pulled together. “Don’t judge me Emma. You never have. Don’t start now.” He seemed angry.

  I bit my lip and left the closet. Had I judged him? Half-out the bedroom door, he snatched my arm.

  “I’m sorry. That was rude.” He didn’t look at me but handed me a long sleeved t-shirt and some shorts.

  “You can change in here. I’ll change in the closet. Then I’ll throw your clothes in the dryer.”

  When he came back out, he gave me a tight smile. Something was wrong.

  “How did I judge you?” I asked as we headed back down the stairs.

  This time we went a different way toward the front of the house to a utility room where he threw the clothes in the dryer. Then back through the dining room to the kitchen. I noticed my cake sat next to the fancy one on a table set for twelve. It so didn’t belong there.

  “Hungry?” he asked opening the fridge.

  “HELLO! I asked you a question.”

  He grinned. “I know you did. I’m ignoring it.”

  I sighed then hopped up and sat on the dark granite countertops watching him. “I guess the cemetery’s out…what with the rain.”

  “You hungry?”

  I shook my head.

  “Me either.” He scratched his head. “Beer?”

  I scrunched my nose.

  “Wine?”

  I shrugged. “I guess.” I’d never had it before.

  He rounded the corner and opened a door. “Red or White?” He shouted.

  I moved toward his voice, and he stood glancing around a chilled wine closet that held at least a hundred bottles. I shrugged again.


  “Red’s my favorite. How about a nice Pinot Noir?” He asked.

  I lowered my head and climbed back on the granite. Pinot Noir? Red? White? It was foreign to me. I’d have to take his word. I was in over my head again.

  “Do you drink a lot?” I asked.

  He rolled his eyes. “Every night with dinner. Kind of an Italian thing.” He poured wine into a tumbler and handed it to me. “Take it slow,” he cautioned.

  “If I take it fast, can I mark one off our summer checklist?” I smiled and smelled the red liquid.

  “We’ll see how the night progresses.”

  Something was off. I got the feeling he didn’t want me here. I had come down unannounced. The silence was hard. The thunder was on top of us now and the wind shook the windows.

  I felt pressure to talk. “Did you have a nice birthday?

  “Sure.”

  He wasn’t convincing. I tasted my drink and it was surprisingly tarter than I expected. I wanted to ask him about Libby.

  “What’s wrong?” I settled.

  His bottle was tipped to his lips and he swallowed. “What’d you mean?”

  “You seem different. Different than last night…different than today. Different than everyday.” I took another drink.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Let’s go in here.” He pointed toward the great room. I didn’t believe him. A candle burned on the coffee table and smelled cinammony.

  The brown leather sofa was oversized and comfy and I sunk as I sat. He sat far away from me—on a different piece of furniture all together.

  “I don’t believe you.” That was the second time I’d said that to someone today.

  His eyes met mine from across the room.

  “What don’t you believe, Emma?”

  The way he said my name had a condescending tone. I was getting angry. “I don’t believe nothing’s wrong.” I finished my liquid courage and sat my glass on an end table.

  He pointed his index finger. “That was a double negative.” He smiled.

  “Thanks for the English lesson.” I grabbed my glass and went to the kitchen on my own then returned with another beer for him and more wine in my glass.

  “Watch it, Em. That stuff will sneak up on you,” he warned.

  “So…tell me. Is it Libby, your folks or me that’s bugging you?”

  He stared at me, twisting the cap off his new beer. “Quite the perceptive little gal.”

  I knew it! I was on target. And I hated that he used the word ‘little.’ “All of the above? I can leave.” I stood.

  He put his foot up on the coffee table blocking my escape. “Sit down.”

  With hands on my hips, I threatened, “I’ll sit only if you start talking.”

  A smile touched the corners of his mouth but he fought it. “Libby calls three times a year…at least she has the last two years. My birthday, Christmas and the anniversary of… the day of the…” He couldn’t bring himself to say the word.

  “Why?” I sat.

  “To tell me how sorry she still is. How much she loves me? Can we try again? The usual.”

  “She wants you back?” I hoped the surprise in my tone didn’t hurt his feelings. And why did that make me jealous?

  He nodded and took a drink. “She didn’t want to break up.”

  “But you did.”

  He gave me a crazed look. “I had to. She cheated on me, lied to me, used me.”

  “You loved her though?”

  His arms shot up in the air and he stretched like he’d been sitting for hours. Avoiding the question?

  “You loved her though?” I repeated.

  “It’s over with Libby. Period. It has been for two years. But when she calls, it makes me think about what we did.”

  I walked over to him and touched his hand. “What she did.”

  He flinched away from my touch so I moved back to my spot. That hurt.

  “And your parents?”

  “Oh, God. They hate her. We all knew the call would come some time today.”

  “Why don’t you just not answer?”

  He smiled at me.

  “I know…that was another double negative. Just answer the question, Mr. Stout.”

  “Who’s Mr. Stout?” He asked with narrowed eyes.

  “My freshmen English teacher.” I grinned.

  He covered his face with his palms. “Freshman? Oh Lord, help me.”

  The words made the hair on my neck stand on end and my chin jetted out. I picked up my glass, downed the contents in one quick swallow and went around the coffee table to the kitchen. My head was woozy.

  The lightening lit the sky and I figured I’d have to run home. I darted back toward the utility room to get my dry clothes.

  “What’re you doin?” He stood leaning against the doorframe.

  “Leaving. You are so above hanging out with a sixteen year old.” The clothes were hot. “I’m going to be a junior. Did you know that?” I stared at him.

  The corners of his mouth twisted upward, and I saw his chest shake. Was he laughing? I tried to step past him and hit the doorframe. My balance was off. I heard him snicker.

  As I went through the dining room, I picked up my cake.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he asked.

  “It’s my cake. I made it. Besides you have a perfect piece of confection in there…to go with your perfect life.”

  He grabbed the cake pan. “Give it to me. You made it for me. You’re being an Indian-giver.”

  I raised my brows. “An Indian-giver? And you’re talking about my age. Go eat the other cake.”

  “I don’t want the other cake. I get that every year.”

  “Yeah. Well…share it with your age-appropriate ex-girlfriend.”

  I sat on the marble at the back door next to my shoes. My legs and fingers felt numb. I wiggled them in front of my face then started to giggle.

  He stood above me staring down.

  “Why are you laughing?” I chuckled.

  He offered his hand to me and I swatted it away. “I’m not the one laughing,” he said as a slow grin spread across his face.

  I giggled so hard my eyes watered, and he sat next to me pulling the clothes from my arms and folded them by my shoes. He reached for the cake.

  “Why would you want that…when you could have that?” The cake wasn’t visible from where we sat but he knew what I was talking about.

  “Because you made it.” He dabbed his finger in the chocolate icing and held it out for me.

  The giggling hadn’t stopped and I tried to be seductive as I licked off the brown layer of frosting.

  “That other cake would be smuch better…so much better,” I corrected my slurred speech.

  He smiled and shook his head. “No it wouldn’t. You can have it if you’d like.”

  “Do you have a match?”

  After he returned with one, I lit the candles, burning my finger. Most of the lights were out. Wax started to drip onto the cake. He stretched out on the floor supported by his elbow so I lay down and did the same.

  “Happy Birthday to you. Happry Birthdray to you.” I laughed to myself.

  “Happy Birthday dear Austin. Happry Birthday to you,” I sang trying hard to pronounce the words. “Make a wish.”

  His grin made me happy. He blew out the half burned candles then got us each a fork. He dug a bite out and offered it to me. I opened my mouth and he gently slid the fork against my tongue. The cake was good and I was glad. I poked a piece this time and he tried it.

  “Yum. This beats that…believe me.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “You have chocolate on your knuckle,” he said lifting my hand to his mouth. It was warm as he kissed it off, his tongue soft as it touched my hand. I closed my eyes and my upper teeth pressed into my lower lip. He dropped my hand and as I opened my eyes, I saw him walking to the kitchen.

  The room spun as I followed, teetering sideways in my gate. He opened another beer. I lifted m
y tumbler.

  “I think you’re good for now,” he smiled. “Let’s talk about our list. I was thinking we could head over to Tillamook cliff.”

  “For what?” I shrieked. It scared me just to look at that cliff.

  His laugh was wicked. “Face your fears—sweetheart.”

  I nodded. “All right. I’m all in as soon as we go by a pet store, buy a tarantula and let it walk up your chest...bare. Hmm. Is that gonna happen?”

  His body convulsed as the thought settled over him. “Eerah!”

  I laughed. “So, neither of us is going to give on that one. Besides standing on Tillamook cliff, in pouring rain doesn’t sound that appealing.”

  He picked up the bottle of wine and poured some into my glass. My eyes bulged. “I thought I’d had enough.”

  “You have. But you’re right…we may as well check one off. Besides, one more glass should do it. You’re buzzin already.”

  I couldn’t disagree. “Maybe a little.”

  “Maybe a lot.”

  “Are you buzzin?” I asked.

  He twisted his hand from side to side. “Maybe a little.”

  Back in the great room, he sat on the same piece of furniture, propping his legs on the hassock.

  “Want to play truth or dare?” I asked.

  “Are we twelve?” He asked with a glint of humor in his eyes.

  I doubted he would.

  “Why not?” he agreed. “Or we could play spin the bottle or how about seven minutes of heaven.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “That’s a new one.”

  “No it’s not. I spent seven minutes in the closet with Jesse Barrett in the sixth grade not knowing what I was supposed to do. So we kissed once and talked for the other six minutes and fifty-five seconds. Then she told everyone. I learned real quickly what to do in seven minutes,” he laughed running his hand over his face.

  “Seven minutes, huh? I guess that’s a lot at that age.”

  “OK. You tell any one of the guys that we did this and you will be toast. You’re first, truth or dare?”

  I smiled. “Truth, of course.”

  He rubbed the brown bottle against his lips thinking. “Are you truly going to skinny dip in the Pacific.?”

  “We have to! We made a deal.” I was shocked he didn’t think I would. “Are you not?”