The Summer of Us: A Romance Anthology

by AJ Matthews

I run the pad of my thumb across her palm, which must be sensitive because she trembles.

  I’ve experienced those same little quakes since I first spotted her, and they’ve escalated to a nine-point-zero on the Richter scale.

  We head downstairs and out to the patio.

  “Oooh! I came across a story about the pool when I was researching a paper in my American lit class sophomore year.” Thea’s gaze drops to the ground and finds the penny embedded there. She snaps a picture of the coin, then grins back at me. “Do you know the story?”

  The same question I’d asked her last night concerning the constellations. “Why don’t you tell me?” Her face lights up, and her eyes crinkle at the corners.

  “Well, the pool was expensive, even by today’s standards. In a fit of rage about the cost, Hemingway threw the coin and told his wife to take his last penny because she’d spent everything else.”

  She motions at the ground like she’s flinging something and her face screws up in mock anger. If I weren’t already smitten, I would be now.

  “I like the way you tell it.” I imitate her gestures, and she playfully taps my arm with her small fist. I deflect a second tap and grab her hand, holding it while we stroll around the rest of the grounds.

  Too soon, she lets go of my hand so she can snap more photos.

  I gesture at the camera. “That’s an impressive piece of equipment,” I note.

  “That’s what she said.”

  I laugh, but her sultry tone leaves me lightheaded.

  She holds the heavy camera out, examining the black body, and shrugs. “This? A birthday present from my daddy. I asked for it because . . .”

  Her pause tells me she’s searching for the right words.

  “Memories like these are too precious to chance with a low-quality cell phone camera.”

  She aims the lens at me and clicks the shutter button.

  I hate getting my picture taken and try to throw my arms in the air. She peeks at the screen on the camera and grins, showing me a full-face shot, no hands in the way—and I’m laughing.

  I look relaxed, and something else.

  Heavy doubts still hang like dark clouds, ones I’m afraid will break and rain the family curse of mental illness over me, like my brother and birth mother.

  In these pictures, though, I look the opposite of depressed.

  Happy.

  I haven’t been happy for a long time.

  And I like it.

  Chapter Three

  Thea

  I’m loving this visit to Hemingway Home. It’s a gorgeous property, with so many cute cats and such a rich history.

  It doesn’t hurt I get to visit the home with Shay.

  Since I got the first photo of him, he’s relaxed and let me take more pictures: him poised to dive into the pool; sitting in the room where Hemingway wrote; and next to the cat house, a perfect miniature of the big house. The best part of each photo, though, is Shay. For a guy who hates having his picture taken, he is photogenic, even model-like.

  He blushes when I tell him he has a gorgeous smile.

  We walk out of the bookstore laden with a couple bags of presents for my family.

  “Hungry?” Shay asks me, but his stomach is rumbling. He is ready to eat, so we’re stopping no matter what I say.

  We leave the property and stroll to the little café named after the four-legged fur babies from the Hemingway Home grounds. The restaurant’s tile floors, pastel tabletops, white walls, and pale blue trim create a refreshing atmosphere, a stark contrast to the sauna-like conditions mounting outside. I wasn’t hungry when we walked in, but the tantalizing scent of fried fish entices me to eat everything on my plate.

  I’m drained from the heat. I can’t imagine heading back out in the stifling mess. Besides, this is as fine a place as any to spend the day.

  My belly likes the idea because everything on the menu is calling my name.

  Thea …

  “Thea? Hey. Ready to go?”

  Shay pays the check, and I leave a tip, contributing something to our day out.

  As soon as we hit the sidewalk, we’re assaulted by one of the Key West chickens pecking around for scraps.

  “Shoo.” I kick in the rooster’s direction, but he is not deterred on his hunt for crumbs.

  Shay laughs. “They’re accustomed to people. It’s a futile effort.”

  “There are more cats and chickens than people on this island.” Another rooster emerges from the alley, clucking and cawing and proving my point.

  I offer to take the shopping bags Shay’s lugging. He refuses but asks, “Can we take these back to your place? And then you can change.”

  “Change? For what?” I’d expected more sightseeing, so I’m surprised by his suggestion.

  He shakes his head, a wide grin lighting his face.

  I swear his teeth are brighter than the scorching mid-day sun.

  I cross my arms in front of me and cock an eyebrow. “Let me guess. Another surprise.”

  “I’m full of them.”

  “You’re full of something,” I crack, and we both laugh.

  No. I snort, and Shay stares at me with wide eyes as I cover my mouth.

  “Classy.” He shakes his head at me, but his tone is joking. We walk toward the condo.

  Not my most sophisticated moment, I admit, but I can’t help it. When I find something hilarious, the snort just kinda happens.

  Like when I watched a couple crazy comedies on DVD with friends in the dorm, and we needed to keep rewinding to listen to parts we missed while I was laughing.

  Snorting.

  There’s a new comedy out I want to see, but Bennie and Leesh refuse to go to the theater. They say it’s too expensive since they’ll miss half the dialog because of me.

  I’m on my own if I want to see any comedy in a theater.

  Despite the burden he’s carrying, Shay shifts the bags to one hand and slings his arm around my shoulder. I wind my arm around his lean waist, my fingers pressing into his side.

  As I suspected, his obliques are tight. I bet he has a six-pack too, with a dark line of hair dipping into the waistband of his pants . . .

  Sparks flare across my skin. Must be this ridiculous heat and humidity. Nothing else.

  We get to the condo, and the ladies are out. Maybe at the pool flirting with the guys staying next door to us. At least Bennie, on a “break” from her boyfriend again, is flirting. Leesh still pines for Dev. They were sweet together, and I’m sad he went home to London. She tries to hide her emotions, but Leesh’s heart is still breaking a few months since their formal split.

  Shay sets the bags on the floor and faces me.

  “Can I get a hint?” I clap my hands together and pretend to beg.

  He shakes his head and chuckles, the low, deep sound in his throat making my stomach flop. “Bring the sunscreen and throw on your bathing suit.”

  He leans to press his forehead to mine. His closeness—his sunscreen mingled with shaving cream—makes my brain go blank. I hope he will kiss me, so I close my eyes and lean into him.

  “No. More. Hints.” His tone is firm, but he pulls away laughing.

  “Gahhhhhhh. You are no fun.”

  “I’m a lot of fun when you get to know me.” He winks. The gesture is old-fashioned and endearing.

  Yet another reason to adore him.

  “Hurry, though, or we’ll miss the boat,” he chides.

  “Oooooh, another boat ride.”

  I run and change into my one-piece, throw on a sundress, slip on my shoes, and grab my floppy hat. Gotta protect the face from sun damage.

  “Okay, ready!” I sound excited, but I’m nervous since I’m clueless about our destination. “What time will we be back?”

  “By five thirty. Geesh, I’m sorry. It was rude of me not to ask if you need to be anywhere later. Does that give you enough time?”

  We’re headed to Bennie’s grandmother’s this evening. She lives on Big Pine Key, and Bennie begged us
to go with her. She is not on the best of terms with her family, and she thinks mine and Leesh’s presence will act as a buffer.

  I do the math in my head, and figure I’ll be able to sneak in a quick shower and change of clothes. Hair up, a touch of make-up in the car, and I’ll be good to go.

  I scrunch up my lips, pulling my mouth to the side as though still thinking. “Hmmm. I don’t know.”

  “We shouldn’t go . . .”

  “No, I’m kidding. Let’s go.”

  We leave the condo community and take Fleming to William Street, which leads to the marina. I hadn’t noticed the sign on the small kiosk last night: Kelly’s Key West Adventures.

  “How cool your family runs this business.”

  “Yeah. Da worked for one of these outfits for years and started his own six years ago. It hasn’t been easy, but business has improved. This way.”

  Shay takes my hand and leads me to the end of the pier, toward a large, flat-top boat with multiple decks. It’s impressive. A large group of people gathers on the deck, and as we climb on, a tall black-haired man grabs Shay and puts him in a headlock.

  “‘Bout time ye got here, boy! Had to bribe this crowd with the promise of a round of drinks at Paddy’s afterward ta settle ‘em. Ye don’t think he’ll be mad, do ye?” This man had the same lilting brogue as Shay’s uncle, and I can tell from where Shay gets his irresistible looks.

  “Oh my God, Da, give it a rest!” Shay’s face is bright red as he pulls away and smoothes his mussed hair and clothes.

  His dad turns and flashes a brilliant grin. “This must be the divine Thea! I’m Ed, this scamp’s father.”

  Shay flushes again at his father’s words.

  “Nothing terrible, I hope.” My laugh is thin and high-pitched. I extend my hand, but Ed envelops me in a giant bear hug, nearly squeezing the breath out of me before he lets go.

  “Let’s get this party started, shall we?” Ed heads to fire up the boat.

  I grab a seat with Shay in a shaded area, reach into my bag, and pull out the sunblock. I slide off the top of my sundress, so I don’t get any of the lotion on the fabric. As I rub the white, coconut-scented cream on my arms and face, the baby hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and I shiver.

  I turn, and Shay’s hazel eyes are transfixed on my hands sliding across my arms. Then his gaze falls to my chest.

  I extend the bottle to him. “Wanna help?”

  “What? Oh, yeah, sure.” He clears his throat. “Let me get your back.”

  I turn to my right, offering him a better angle.

  My suit is square cut to the middle of my back, so I need little lotion there, but Shay’s hands linger, massaging the cream into my shoulders.

  I tremble when he traces his fingers from the nape of my neck to my spine. Heat creeps to my face as I imagine those fingers and hands on the rest of my body.

  “Scamp, huh? Ah, like the boat last night. Cute name.” I bite my lip, suppressing a laugh.

  “Funny. What about you? Everyone has a nickname. What’s yours?”

  “My mama called my Gypsy. Blame it on the crazy costumes I used to create as a kid.” I brush tendrils of hair from my face. “This crazy mass of hair and my whimsical nature contributed.”

  “Gypsy.” He runs a finger along my jaw. “It suits you, wild thing.”

  I shiver from his words and distracting touch.

  I want this day never to end.

  Shay

  We leave the island behind and head out to deeper waters.

  Energetic, classic party music is pumping from the speakers, and the crowd is stoked for a fun time.

  Da knows how to keep the customers happy, which results in bigger tips for him and his crew.

  In her sunglasses and floppy hat, Thea looks like a gorgeous movie star going incognito.

  One of the crew members brings us beers hidden in Koozies because none of the other passengers get the alcohol until we head back to the island. Drinking and snorkeling do not mix. I take a sip, and the cold brew slides down my throat. I’m so chill this afternoon, like the exorbitant price tag and high stress of medical school aren’t dangling over my head. In a few weeks, I’ll be packing up the hybrid and driving to school, stopping for my old college roommate and best friend, Fred, in Miami along the way.

  It’s cool he got into NCU medical school too. He’s the best roommate and sharing a place with him eliminates the stress of unfamiliar people. I’d endured sinks full of dirty dishes, sweaty clothes piled in the bathroom, and overall loud and obnoxious behavior with my brothers. I don’t want to go there again.

  Joe takes the wheel, and Da lumbers in our direction. I’m sick knowing he’ll embarrass me again.

  “Don’t mind givin’ the lass a free ride, boy, but ye know ye gotta work for yours.”

  Sigh. “No problem, Da. Ready when you are.”

  He slaps me on the shoulder and walks away to socialize more with the paying passengers until we reach the reef.

  “What’s that about?” Curiosity laces her voice.

  “I get to be demo-boy. No big deal.”

  “Oooh, looking forward to it.” She smiles, and I melt. I can’t look at her while I demonstrate the equipment, or I’ll screw up the whole thing.

  She throws me out of whack, but I kind of like it.

  Thea

  “I’ll be right back.” My eyelids flutter closed as he kisses my cheek before ducking below deck.

  While he’s gone, I glance around at the other scantily-clad women on the boat. Some with small boobs, others average, and a few like me.

  With a rack that travels into the next zip code five minutes before the rest of my body follows.

  While this trip is supposed to take my mind off the journey that started last winter, the exposure to breasts every day wears on my psyche. I wonder how many women thought I was flirting with them because I kept staring at their chests.

  I’m cataloging the images so I can decide on a size and shape when I consult with the plastic surgeon.

  A few minutes later, Shay emerges from below, and I’m not embarrassed to admit I need to pick my jaw up from the deck. While he’s wearing long board shorts, he’s shirtless. My instincts were right.

  The man has a killer bod.

  Broad, well-muscled shoulders, but not too wide. I could discern that through his clothes.

  His corded biceps flex as he pushes himself on the railing of the steps, and I swallow.

  Good-googa-mooga.

  His wide shoulders taper into a narrow waist. I’m not sure if it’s a six-pack or eight. I’ll count later when he’s closer. Whatever the tally, I’m positive I’ll be able to bounce a quarter off his abs.

  I won’t waste time doing that, though, with other more enjoyable activities I could do with a naked Shay.

  I take a sip of beer and pull out my camera, pretending to take pictures of the sea and sky.

  Shay strays into a few of the shots. Accidentally, of course. The photos could go a long way in keeping a girl warm on a cold Carolina night in January.

  Ed calls out, “Who’s snorkeling today?” I snap out of my daydream and pay attention as much as I can with the distraction of Shay one thin garment shy of naked.

  I went snorkeling once at Discovery Cove in Orlando ten years ago, so a refresher will help.

  “Ladies and gents, please put any belongings you want to keep safe in the locker right here.” He points at Shay. “Please turn your attention to this strapping lad. Handsome boy, right?”

  A woman at the end of the bench, who appears to be in her mid-thirties, whistles and calls out, “You got that right!”

  She’s one of the ladies with a chest as large as mine.

  I’d never wanted to punch anyone ever until today. This is crazy.

  Ed laughs and says, “Must take after his father. That would be me!” His joking elicits hearty laughter from the passengers. “I’ll turn it over to him. Son.”

  “For those of you who’ve never
been snorkeling, the basics: these are the fins, this is the mask, and this is the snorkel.” Shay holds up each one to demonstrate.

  “Fins are based on your shoe size, so get the right one.”

  “Yours are big. Is it true about guys with enormous feet?”

  Grrrr.

  The obnoxious woman is making me see red.

  Shay laughs but doesn’t respond. “To keep the mask from fogging, you’ll need to do something kinda gross. When you’re out in the water and ready to go under, do this.”

  He pretends to spit into his mask and rub the spit on the lens.

  He slips on the mask and snorkel.

  Ed continues, “Ye mostly want to keep the snorkel above the water line. But if ye do go under, don’t breathe in, or ye’ll get a mouthful of seawater. Or whatever else the folks I brought out earlier left behind.”

  The collective response from the passengers varies from “ewwwwww” to knowing laughs, because everyone here has likely peed in the ocean before, or worse.

  “Okay everyone, gather round and gear up.” Shay slips his mask off and helps the passengers get their masks and air tubes set.

  A particular person requires loads of attention. The whistler.

  Ugh.

  Once she finishes rubbing herself on Shay at every possible opportunity while he helps her, I saunter to him and bat my eyelashes, rubbing his shoulders. “Excuse me, hot young man. I can’t get this strappy-thingy on my mask adjusted. Can you pleeeeaaase help me?” I coo.

  One side of his mouth pulls up in a half-smile.

  “Huh. That’s what I need in my life, another smart-mouth. A family full of ‘em isn’t enough.” He snatches my mask in mock anger, and I continue to flutter my eyelashes and giggle as I throw my head back.

  Shay’s checking me out again, and his eyes keep returning to my torso.

  He blinks as though in awe.

  They are impressive. His is a natural response.

  Like last night, I pull my shoulders back to make my boobs stand out more, and sweat beads his forehead and upper lip.

  I let him look his fill. Once he finishes, he grabs the underwater camera to take with us because I forgot my waterproof camera case.

  We gear up and descend the ladder into the warm, blue-green waters.