Next Summer

by Hailey Abbott

  Forget satisfied. Beth felt sick. Every time she glanced over and saw Adam and Kelsi smile, Beth felt like she was hooked up to some type of medieval torture device—the one that painfully stretches you out in all different directions. A kind of feeling that was eerily familiar. She’d sucked down about five Cokes before she recognized what was happening—and when she’d felt it before.

  It was exactly the way she’d felt last summer, when she had realized that she was in love with George.

  She ran the last part of the trail at full tilt, bursting through the trees and out into the sunlight along Peachtree Road. She slowed when she hit the sidewalk, and took big, deep breaths, like she could flush her conflicted feelings away by filling her lungs with the fresh morning air.

  Obviously, she told herself sternly, she was just missing George, so she was trying to re-create how she had felt last summer. That had to be it.

  Beth wiped at the sweat on her forehead, and started back toward the cottages, feeling no more settled than she had before.

  When she heard her phone ringing from the pocket of her shorts, she ignored it. She knew that it was George calling again, and she didn’t feel like talking to him. He would know something was wrong just from her voice. He would want to talk about it and that was the last thing Beth wanted to do. Then it struck her—Beth had finally encountered one topic that she couldn’t ever share with George. Her phone beeped, indicating that he’d left a message.

  Why am I avoiding him? Beth wondered. She’d ignored his cell from earlier in the day as well. Was she not in love with George anymore? Was that crazy?

  The paved road ended, and Beth turned off onto the dirt track that led up to the cottages. The trees closed in around her, high and fresh-smelling, and she could hear insects hum and the leaves shift and murmur far above. Up ahead, she made out the raised voices of her younger cousins and the clank of plates and cutlery as the Tuttles prepared for their nightly barbecue-fest. It was dinnertime already?

  She felt like bursting into tears.

  “Beth!” her father called from where he stood at the barbecue. “You almost missed dinner!”

  “I lost track of time,” Beth murmured.

  Beth’s dad—always the most enthusiastic griller in the family—dispensed hamburgers and hot dogs, and a few steaks for the grown-ups. Beth loaded up her plate with cheeseburger fixings and a lot of lettuce she didn’t actually want.

  “You don’t want any potato salad?” her mom asked, eyeing Beth’s plate doubtfully. “I made the kind you like, with the new potatoes and bacon.”

  “I’m fine with this,” she told her mother, and smiled as if she wasn’t feeling horrible.

  “Rabbit food’s not your style, Bethy,” her dad chimed in. “Let me know when you want a second burger.”

  Ignoring them, Beth headed over to the picnic table traditionally reserved for the older cousins. The younger kids were sitting with Uncle Carr and Aunt Claire, fighting over the amount of vegetables they’d been served, as well as the score of a parent versus kids badminton match.

  “You cheat!” Drew was accusing Aunt Claire. “Everyone knows you do!”

  “Eat your tomatoes,” Uncle Carr retorted.

  Beth expected to see both her cousins, but only Kelsi was around. Beth felt a lump in her throat when she swallowed.

  “I went down to the beach to look for you,” Kelsi said when Beth neared the table. “I’m going out with that friend of yours tonight.”

  Adam. There he was again. Looking down at Kelsi, Beth felt scraggly in her sweaty tank and shorts.

  “Um, really?” Beth asked then, before the silence dragged on too long. “That’s so cool!” She thought her voice sounded brittle and fake, but Kelsi didn’t seem to notice.

  “Yeah,” Kelsi said, and shrugged. “It should be fun.” She patted the bench next to her and Beth took a seat. “I have no idea what to wear. Wanna help me after dinner?”

  You’ve got to be kidding me, Beth thought.

  “Well, uh…” She felt like her tongue was made of glue. “I promised George I’d call him, so…” Beth lied. “We’re going to eat dinner together.”

  Kelsi smiled. “Aw…” She made a shooing motion with her hand. “Go on, then. Go be cute. I’ll dress myself.”

  Beth walked into the house, up to her room, and sank down on the bed. She set her plate on the dresser, not in the least bit hungry. Her phone rang again, echoing loudly in the quiet room. George. Beth let it ring, and then listened while it made another soft voice-mail beep.

  She knew he was waiting for her. But Beth also knew she couldn’t bring herself to call George back. Not when she was feeling so torn between him…and Adam.

  12

  The bowling alley was alive with flashing lights and the crash and thunder of balls rolling down the shiny, waxed lanes. Outkast was blaring from the speakers, while kids heckled one another over sloppy techniques and low scores. Kelsi could feel the energy zing through her when she and Adam entered all the chaos.

  “I don’t remember the last time I went bowling,” Kelsi said, grinning at him. “I think I was ten and at someone’s birthday party.”

  “I can’t tell you what great news that is,” Adam said, fastening the laces on his rented shoes. “Because I’m terrible. I was afraid you were going to kick my ass and I’d have to sit here and be a good loser.”

  “You’re not a good loser?” Kelsi asked, trying to size him up.

  “Of course not.” Adam flashed his slow smile. “There’s no such thing.”

  Kelsi laughed at that as she followed Adam through the crowd and down to lane 13. She caught sight of herself in one of the mirrors along the wall and ran a reflexive hand over her hair. She’d borrowed one of Ella’s Juicy tank tops to wear with a pair of khaki cargo capris from Anthropologie. She liked the result—sort of trendy and earthy all at once.

  As they got settled in their cozy little booth, Adam set about programming their names into the machine while Kelsi tested the weight of different bowling balls. One was so heavy she nearly dropped it on her foot. Another had finger holes so slender she was afraid she’d have to wear the thing as an accessory for the rest of her life.

  “So you must be psyched for college, right?” Adam asked.

  “I guess,” Kelsi said, weighing a purple ball in her right hand. “It’s just weird to have no idea what might happen next in your life.”

  Adam nodded. He was seventeen, Kelsi knew, so he wasn’t going to college for another year. She’d never been out with a younger guy. “I know what happens next,” he said. He indicated the lane in front of her with a flourish. “You get to go first.”

  Kelsi decided the ball in her hand would do well enough, and stepped up to the end of the lane. She frowned at the pins ahead of her. She had no idea what she was doing, so she snuck a look out of the corner of her eye at the overly serious girl in the next lane, who wore this robotic contraption on her arm and appeared to be performing at championship levels. Kelsi gulped hard and took another look at the pins, wound up, and threw the ball as hard as she could.

  The deep purple ball hit the lane with a heavy thud, and then rolled directly into the gutter.

  “Well, whaddya know,” Kelsi said, laughing as she turned. “I suck.”

  Adam smiled too quickly, and Kelsi got the feeling that he’d been miles away—preoccupied with something. She flopped down into the seat as he searched for a ball, and watched as he selected a glossy black one.

  Kelsi wasn’t above a little ogling, and Adam was definitely worth the look. He wasn’t classically good-looking, but his features seemed to work together in a way that made him kind of sexy even when he was doing something mundane like winding up to bowl.

  But while Kelsi could appreciate the sexy vibe Adam had going on, she wasn’t drawn to it the way she thought she should be. She remembered feeling so into Peter that when he’d touched her, she’d felt it all over her body. And with Adam, she just didn’t feel that rush, despite
the fact she wanted to. Really, really wanted to. On paper, he was the guy for her in every way. Funny. Smart. Nice. Completely not an asshole.

  She mulled it over as they played out their game, competing for the worst score of all time. Kelsi won—in the sense that she lost, horribly—but only because Adam hit a sudden and inexplicable strike streak.

  “It just doesn’t make any sense,” Adam complained, shaking his head.

  “Don’t tell me you’re a sore winner, too!” Kelsi teased.

  Adam laughed, and when his eyes danced, Kelsi felt a spark. Maybe she was putting too much pressure on the whole thing—after all, it couldn’t be healthy to be thinking Will he be the one I fall for and lose my virginity to? every thirty seconds. And Kelsi had to admit that’s what she’d been doing. But try as she might, she just couldn’t picture herself in Adam’s arms that way.

  Adam raised an eyebrow at Kelsi. “Want to go again?”

  “Um?” Kelsi asked. “Oh, you mean bowl?” Not sex, you moron!

  “That’s what we’ve got to work with.” His smile was warm and inviting, even infectious.

  “Then let’s do it,” Kelsi said.

  “Great. I’ll buy us another game. Be right back.”

  She liked the way he moved as he made his way back toward the counter. And there was that smile. And really, he was so—

  Kelsi jumped when a male body plunked down in the seat next to her.

  “Oh!” she said, sitting up. Whatever she had been thinking about completely disappeared when she saw that the person sitting in Adam’s seat was not Adam, but Tim. The last time she’d seen him had been at the farmer’s market right before the Fourth of July.

  He wasn’t wearing anything particularly exciting—just a T-shirt thrown over some ratty old jeans—and yet, of course, he was the sort of guy who made something so basic look mouthwatering.

  “You keep turning up,” she said, and not in a welcoming way. Tim merely grinned and settled back in the chair he’d commandeered.

  “Happens so often, we might as well make a plan for it to happen again,” he said.

  “Or not,” Kelsi retorted.

  “Is that your phone?” Tim asked. As Kelsi nodded, he reached across the table, scooped it up, and started pushing buttons.

  “Um, could you get your hands off my personal property?” Kelsi demanded, but she made no move to reach for the phone. Instead, she just watched his very long, slender fingers dance around on the keypad.

  “There,” Tim said after a moment.

  “What did you do?” Kelsi didn’t take the phone back when he tried to hand it to her. She just stared at it warily as if it were a detonator to an atomic bomb.

  “What, are you worried about cooties?” Tim teased her.

  Irritatingly, Kelsi felt herself blush. She snatched the phone out of his hand and examined it.

  “I put my number in your phone book,” Tim said with an all-too-charming chuckle. “So you can call and ask me out. That’s Tim with a T.”

  “Uh-huh.” Kelsi rolled her eyes. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

  “I also called myself, so now I have your number, too,” Tim continued happily. “See how easy that was?”

  “We’re not going on a date,” Kelsi told him. She had to struggle to remain stern. “Ever.”

  “I don’t think that’s entirely true,” Tim replied, unfazed.

  Kelsi noticed that the more she tried to put him off, the more confident he seemed. Like he knew something she didn’t. How delusional was he?

  “Just forget it,” Kelsi said, wishing she didn’t always sound like a cranky five-year-old around him.

  “Why?” Tim asked, studying her curiously.

  Kelsi was totally caught off guard. “I don’t have time to date.” Wow, that was the best she could do? “This is really a busy summer. Uh…I’m taking a road trip—”

  “I love road trips,” Tim interrupted. “Some of my friends consider me an absolute road trip must-have. Kind of like a survival kit.”

  “Good for you.” Kelsi shook her head again, trying to convey her disdain.

  “Where are you going?” he asked.

  “Does it even matter?”

  “Well, we could get all philosophical here…” He grinned.

  Kelsi was at her wit’s end with this guy. “Ugh. We’re going to Amherst, if you must know. Okay?”

  “Amherst?”

  That apparently got his attention.

  “My cousin is in a summer writing program there,” Kelsi said coolly.

  Suddenly, Tim looked way too excited.

  “What a coincidence,” he said. “When are you going?”

  “The first weekend in August,” Kelsi said. “Why do you care?”

  “As a matter of fact,” Tim said, “I have to be at U Mass that weekend for an orientation thing. It’s obviously fate. We should road-trip together.”

  Kelsi burst out laughing. Fate? Jock Boy was too much. People in the booth next to them turned around to see why Kelsi was cracking up.

  “It’ll be awesome,” Tim said, as if Kelsi hadn’t just mocked him. “I realize you somehow don’t see what a great guy I am, which I admit hurts pretty bad. But a few hours in the car with me and you’ll change your mind. I guarantee it.”

  “You really are insane.” Kelsi was still laughing. “And there’s no way I’m letting insanity into my car.”

  “Then we’re on!” Tim grinned and stood up. “I’m sure you’ll call me soon, so we can talk about it then. Finalize plans, make a driving schedule, whatever.”

  “Tim,” Kelsi said, frowning up at him, “you can’t just invite yourself—”

  “Oh look,” Tim said, ignoring her. “I think your date is coming back. And here I thought you didn’t have time for dating.”

  Kelsi should have been furious. She knew that she should have yelled at Tim, or stood up and very matter-of-factly explained that she wouldn’t allow him to just railroad her, but for some odd reason, she didn’t do anything like that. She just watched as Tim turned and sauntered back into the crowd.

  “Who was that?” Adam asked, putting two sodas down on the little console.

  “Oh,” Kelsi said, feeling somewhat light-headed. In her snipe-fest with Tim, she’d actually forgotten about Adam. How was that possible? She peered into the crowd, but was unable to see Tim anymore. “Just some guy I met earlier in the summer.”

  Just some guy I met earlier in the summer, Kelsi thought later, trudging up the dirt road and listening to the sound of the surf, carried up on the night breeze from the beach. Some guy I don’t even like!

  Yet, when she replayed tonight in her mind, Kelsi realized that she had more fun disliking Tim than she had hanging out with Adam. If she couldn’t fall for a great guy like Adam, then something was seriously defective in her. What more could she possibly want? Adam was so polite he hadn’t even tried to kiss her. Which was a good thing, wasn’t it? It meant he probably respected her. More so than, say, Peter the Jerk, who had been groping her practically within moments of saying hello.

  Or maybe he just wasn’t that into her.

  Or maybe she was just overanalyzing, an especially bad idea in the pitch dark. Kelsi had to walk more by memory than by sight, which involved a lot of stepping gingerly. Every time she found herself alone on the dirt road, she was convinced she would get lost in the woods forever. One of these days, she was going to have to remember to bring along a flashlight. Eventually, she came out into the clearing where the Tuttle cottages stood together, lights shining from within.

  Kelsi was headed toward her cottage when she heard a noise she couldn’t immediately place, a rhythmic thunk. She squinted into the darkness of the yard and saw a figure over by the picnic tables, playing with the ersatz tetherball set Uncle Gary had fashioned out of a pole and a tennis ball that afternoon.

  As she got closer, Kelsi saw that it was Beth. A fleece pulled over her jeans, she was slamming the ball with a Ping-Pong paddle, looking pissed.
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br />   “Hey,” Kelsi said.

  Beth glanced up, and Kelsi swore she stiffened.

  “It’s you,” Beth said. She whacked the ball and then whacked it harder as it whizzed by, so it went even faster. “So how was it?”

  “What?” Kelsi was trying to process why Beth seemed so cold.

  “Your date,” Beth said. Thunk. “Did you have fun?” Thunk. “Was there kissing?” Thunk. And then another, even harder thunk.

  “I’m not sure the tennis ball can take all the abuse,” Kelsi murmured.

  “Sorry,” Beth muttered. She caught the ball in her hand as it went by. Then she dropped it, so it thudded against the pole and danced there on the end of the rope.