Summer Love
Page 10
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YOU look at Dex. He is really cute, and you thought that maybe there was some good chemistry between you, but he also didn’t seem to care if he played mixed doubles with you. And the way he talked about giving you away like you were an object was really unappealing.
Then you look at Mitch. You remember what it felt like to have him spin you around. You think about the fact that he wanted to keep you around all summer.
You take the hand Mitch has held out to you and say, “A lemonade sounds quite lovely!”
“Oooh,” Mila says. “Harsh. But I’ll go get a virgin piña colada with you, Dex. Just so you don’t get too sad.”
Dex concentrates on rewrapping the tape on his racket’s grip. “I think I’ll just hang here,” he says, “and fix my racket. But you’re welcome to hang with me, Mila.”
“Sure,” she says. “I’ll help.”
Leaving the two of them behind, Mitch leads you just off the court to a cooler of lemonade. He fills two plastic cups, hands you one, then perches on the top of the fence. You hop up next to him.
“You’re a kick-butt tennis player,” he says, taking a sip of his lemonade.
“Thanks,” you say, after swallowing a sip of yours. “You’re good, too.”
He shakes his head. “Not as good as Dex. That kid dominates. At everything. It’s kind of infuriating. I’ve been competing with him for years—tennis, lacrosse, track—he’s always number one, and I’m always number two. It kills me.”
You study Mitch for a second. “Well, as far as I’m concerned, you’re number one and he’s number two today.”
Mitch turns to look at you, and his silver-blue eyes flash in the sunlight.
“Your eyes are incredible,” you tell him. “They make you look superhuman.”
“Oh . . . you mean no one’s told you that my sister and I are vampires?” he asks you, with a serious look on his face. “We’re wearing special sunscreen so we don’t sparkle.”
You can’t help but laugh at that, and with a mouth full of lemonade, some of it comes snorting out of your nose. You quickly swallow the rest and swipe at the liquid dripping down onto your lip. How humiliating! “Oh God,” you say. “I can’t believe that just happened! I’m so embarrassed.”
Mitch grabs a paper towel from a stack next to the lemonade cooler. “No need to be embarrassed,” he says, handing you one. “Would it be embarrassing if I told you I thought it was kind of adorable?”
You squint at him. “You think it’s adorable when lemonade comes out of someone’s nose?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Not anyone’s nose. Just your nose. You know, I was trying to figure out how to get you to be my tennis partner ever since I saw you at lunch. I’m glad you gave Mila and me an excuse to suggest it.”
“Your sister was in on this plan?” You can’t believe all the prep work he did to get to hang with you.
“My sister’s in on all my plans,” he says. “She’s a great co-conspirator.”
The way he says it makes you wish that you had a twin brother. “Yeah?” you ask.
“Well, you’re here with me now, aren’t you?”
You laugh again. This time no lemonade drips out of your nose. “Fair point,” you tell him.
“I do have one more plan I’d like to enact today,” he says, sliding a little closer to you on the fence.
You feel your heart speed up. He’s going to kiss you. That has to be his plan. For a split second you wonder if you want him to, but then you decide, Why not? He’s nice and funny, and a great athlete, even though he seems to have a weird complex about Dex. But he saw lemonade come out of your nose and still thinks you’re cute, so that has to count for something.
“And what plan is that?” you ask, as you feel your palms getting sweaty.
“This one,” he says, closing his eyes as he moves his face toward yours.
You lean forward to meet his mouth, and then close your own eyes.
His lips are softer and smoother than you ex-pected them to be. His hand on the small of your back pulls you in closer. He flicks the tip of his tongue into your mouth for a tiny second, and when it’s gone all you can think about is wanting it to come back. You press yourself closer to him and reach one of your hands up to rub the prickles of his crew cut.
Then you hear someone clear her throat. You and Mitch break apart, and Mila is standing there. “They sent me to tell you guys that the other match is over,” she says. “It’s time to play again.”
You look down, a little embarrassed that Mitch’s sister just caught the two of you mid–make out, but Mitch doesn’t seem to mind. He grabs your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours.
“We’ll be right there,” he tells Mila.
She fills her water bottle from the watercooler next to the lemonade and heads back to the court.
“Are you okay?” Mitch asks.
You nod. “More than okay,” you tell him.
“Good,” he whispers. “Then let’s win this one so we can celebrate with another kiss.”
“Deal,” you tell him, and squeeze his hand. But as you head back to the court, you wonder how you’re going to keep your mind on the game when all you can think about is kissing Mitch.
CONGRATULATIONS!
YOU’VE FOUND YOUR HAPPY ENDING!
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YOU look at both guys and realize neither one of them is really all that attractive. At least not personality-wise. True, agreeing to get lemonade or a piña colada doesn’t mean agreeing to anything more, but why spend your time hanging out with guys who haven’t really impressed you very much?
“I think,” you say, eyeing the game on court five, “I’m going to stay here and check out the competition. If Mitch and I are going to win again, I may need to take some notes.”
“I like that competitive spirit,” Mitch says. “Want me to grab you some water?”
You nod, and he and Mila go off to the water-cooler. Dex starts wrapping the grip on his racket with new tape. You busy yourself watching the group of four playing next to you and quickly realize that you and Mitch will be able to take either pair, no problem. Actually, so will Mila and Dex.
Mitch comes back with the water, and you thank him before chugging it down. It’s ice cold and perfect on such a hot day.
“So,” Mitch says, sitting down next to you, “we gonna beat them?”
You nod. “Absolutely.”
Soon the game on court five ends, and you and Mitch start playing against Silas and Greta, who, you find out, have been dating since seventh grade. You win in two sets, the last one a bagel. And Dex and Mila win their game, no problem.
After you all shake hands across the net, Silas and Greta announce that they’re going for ice cream. Mitch and Mila have to go meet up with their parents. Dex decides to go to the driving range. And the last doubles pair, Primo and Tala, want to go over to the bar for some virgin daiquiris. They invite you to join, but you decide to head to the pool to see what Tasha and Jade are up to.
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DINNER?Jazz festival? Adam? Yes, yes, and yes!
You know Tasha is probably planning on hanging out with you tonight, but you also know that if you bail for boy reasons, she won’t mind. Plus, she’s always happy to go out with Jade.
“That sounds fun,” you tell Adam. He smiles, and you smile
back, already looking forward to spending more time with him.
“So I’ll pick you up at seven,” he says. “I’ll be in my mom’s lame station wagon—I hope that’s okay.”
You laugh. “Of course that’s okay! I don’t care what kind of car you drive.”
You give him Tasha’s parents’ address, and the two of you head back to the pool holding hands. When you reach the pool gate, he looks down at his watch.
“I’ve got to get the triplets in a minute, but I don’t think I can wait until later to do this.”
“Do what?” you ask.
“This,” he says again, as he tips your chin up so you’re looking him in the eye. The pull he has on you feels irresistible, and you lean toward him. He bends down and presses his warm lips against yours. He tastes sweet, like Sprite. You wrap your arms around his neck, and he lifts you up so your feet are dangling a few inches off the ground and your body is tight against his. You’ve always kissed with your eyes closed, but this time you open them and look at his tan skin and perfectly straight eyelashes.
Still holding you up, he pulls his mouth away from yours and opens his eyes.
“See you later,” he says softly, as he lowers you down to the ground.
“See you later,” you say back.
Then he heads to the pool to collect the triplets. And you take a moment to collect yourself before following. You were looking for a fun guy to flirt with, but you’re pretty sure you’ve found something more.
CONGRATULATIONS!
YOU’VE FOUND YOUR HAPPY ENDING!
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AS much fun as you’re having with Adam, you’re not sure about going out with him later. You like him too much for him to be a one-night fling, and you’re worried that with his job and his plans and his living so far away, the two of you don’t really have a chance at something real. It’s better to say no. Safer to say no. And besides, you don’t want to ditch Tasha, even if she’d probably understand.
“I wish I could,” you say, “but I’m hanging out with my cousin tonight.”
“That’s too bad,” he says as you head back toward the pool. “Maybe another time?”
“Maybe,” you say. For a minute you wonder if you should change your mind, but then you decide to stick to the choice you made. There are so many guys around this summer, and Adam’s not right for you. At least not right now.
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TASHA and Jade have finished talking about their dorm room decoration, and now they’re looking at a “Who Wore It Best?” article in one of Tasha’s magazines.
“I totally have this!” Jade squeals, pointing to a cobalt blue drapey dress that two B-list actresses wore to different movie premieres the week before.
Tasha inspects the pictures closely. “Did you wear it with peep-toes like this one, or gladiators, like that one?” she asks Jade.
“Ugh, neither.” Jade waves her hand as if she’s fanning away a bad smell. “Strappy gold sandals with heels. I wore it to the prom after-party.”
You look at the pictures yourself, over Tasha’s shoulder. “If you wore it with strappy gold sandals, I think you probably wore it better than both of these girls.”
“Totally,” Tasha says. “How did you wear your hair? And what jewelry? I feel like that’s always the most important after shoes.”
Jade reaches into her tote and pulls out her phone. She scrolls through the pictures and lands on one of her in the blue dress with her gold sandals, her hair in a high, curled ponytail with some height in the front, and a thin gold necklace around her neck with a diamond nestled in the hollow of her throat. She had diamond studs in her ears and three bangles on her right wrist: two gold and a cobalt blue one that matched the dress almost perfectly.
“Oh, you totally wore it best,” Tasha says after looking at the picture and zooming in to see Jade’s jewelry better.
“Absolutely,” you say. “I mean, seriously, you should’ve been their stylist. And they should fire the one they have.”
“You know that’s what I want to do after college, right?” Jade says to you. “Be a stylist?”
You shake your head. “I didn’t know, but I think you’d be amazing.”
Jade leans back against her chaise lounge. “Thanks,” she said. “It’s really my favorite thing to do, you know, putting outfits together, helping people look their best.” Then she looks at you critically. “If you want, I could do you.”
Tasha bonks Jade’s knee with the magazine. “Leave my cousin alone—she looks great the way she is.”
You hadn’t actually been offended, though. It might be fun to have someone tell you what to wear to make you look best.
“So, cuz,” Tasha says, turning to you, “have you had enough of this country club thing? Want to go to the beach now? I bet there’ll be more boys for you to meet. . . .”
“Or you guys can stick here with me,” Jade adds. “Because I’ve gotta meet my mom in a couple of hours in the spa. And even if you do look beautiful the way you are, I bet I could give you some tips that would make you look even more beautiful. . . .”
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“SO why didn’t you go with him?” Tasha asks.
You shrug. “I don’t know, I guess I didn’t want to talk about that guy getting hurt anymore, and I had a feeling he’d want to.”
“He was cute,” Tasha says.
“I know,” you answer, “but there’ll be other cute guys around.”
Tasha nods. “Yeah. Want to grab something to eat? Or maybe head back home? I’m kind of done with the sand-and-ocean thing right now.”
After all the excitement down here, you find yourself agreeing with Tasha. Enough with the sand and ocean for the moment.
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YOU get to the bar that’s overlooking the tennis courts, and Dex orders you both virgin piña coladas. They arrive with mini-umbrellas and a wedge of pineapple on top.
“These are my favorite,” he says. “It’s like summertime in a cup.”
You take a sip and realize he’s right. The mixture of coconut, pineapple, and icy coldness tastes like everything summer should be—sweet, tart, nutty, and delicious.
“This is phenomenal,” you tell Dex. “Thank you.”
He smiles and takes another swallow of his drink. It looks as if maybe he’s building up courage for something.
“Do you want to try something even more phenomenal?” he asks.
You quirk one eyebrow up at him, trying to master Tasha’s eyebrow communication. Could this mean what you think it means? “It depends what it is,” you say, hoping your smile tells him that if the more phenomenal thing is a kiss, you’re totally game.
It must work, because without any more words, Dex leans in and kisses you hard on the mouth, sliding his tongue between your lips. He tastes salty
and sweet and tart and nutty and delicious. “It’s that,” he says, pulling away from you for a second.
“You were right,” you tell him, slightly breathless. “That was phenomenal.”
You can tell he’s a little breathless, too, but he gives you a lazy half smile and kisses you again, slower this time.
When he stops, he says, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”
“Really?” you ask.
“Really,” he says. “For at least three years. Since the summer you had that white bathing suit with the ruffles.”
You remember that bathing suit. And that summer. “I had no idea,” you tell him.
He kisses you again. “But now you do.”
“Yes,” you say, your mouth barely an inch from his, “now I do.”
Soon your drinks are forgotten, and you let yourself relax into his arms, tasting his lips and feeling them warm up as they press against yours. After a few more kisses you decide that kissing Dex is much, much better than kissing Tyler Grant ever could be. Especially when he tastes like summer.
CONGRATULATIONS!
YOU’VE FOUND YOUR HAPPY ENDING!
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“WALK, bike, or car?” Tasha asks, as she throws a hat, sunglasses, some magazines, a book, and an iPod into her tote.
“Walk,” you answer, and pack up your own tote.
Tasha’s house is on a street that has its own private beach for everyone who lives there. The beach is kind of fantastic and is only about a six-minute walk away. (Biking takes three minutes. And driving takes about one.)
Once you get to the beach, you and Tasha survey the sand. There’s an open space down close to the water, but Tasha had a bad experience with high tide the summer before—when it came in superfast and carried her favorite Ray-Bans out to sea—so you opt not to take that one.