If the Summer Lasted Forever

by Shari L. Tapscott

  “Why yes, Lacey, I will be your friend.” His voice deepens, taking on an almost sultry tone. I realize I foolishly stumbled into a game without learning the rules first.

  I set my hands on my hips, biting back a smile.

  “I guess that means you’re going to stop avoiding me, right?” he asks. “And we should go to lunch because that’s what friends do when friends are starving. And Lacey” —he leans down, meeting me at eye level— “I’m starving.”

  I can’t help it; I laugh, finally giving in—not to the crush, but to the boy. It’s not like I’m going to fall head over heels for him just because he’s hot. That’s ridiculous. I’m made of stronger stuff than that…at least I’d like to think I am.

  “We have one tiny problem,” I say. “My mom took my Jeep, and you appear to be car-less.”

  Landon sets his hands on my shoulders, stepping close enough my mouth goes dry. “Do you have a bike?”

  “Yes…”

  “What a coincidence. So do I.”

  “You want to ride our bikes into town?”

  Paige and I used to do it all the time—before we got our licenses. Now it seems juvenile.

  “Unless you can magically produce a vehicle,” he says. “In which case, I will be most impressed.”

  I shake my head, smiling. There’s something different about Landon, something I like. He doesn’t care what people think—after all, he’ll walk around the campground talking to his camera. Maybe there’s freedom in wandering the country, not trying to please the people you see day in and day out.

  Landon glances at his video recorder. “Just let me plug this in before we go.”

  He walks to the door and waves me in. I follow him, hesitant, not wanting to invade his family’s space.

  “Excuse the mess,” he says. “It’s somewhat difficult to coexist in such a tight area. Everything tends to go everywhere.”

  It’s not that bad, not really. There’s a net for shoes by the door, but a small pair of brown flip-flops—most likely Caleb’s—is strewn across the floor. A few dolls, books, and games are scattered on the table. There’s a phone charger on the couch next to a half-unzipped hiking backpack.

  But other than that, it’s pretty tidy.

  The family must have George and Candy with them because neither is in the RV—either that or they’re sleeping on Mr. and Mrs. Tillman’s bed.

  A yellow tabby eyes me from her perch on the couch. I’m not sure she’s impressed that I’ve interrupted her nap. Another cat, this one white, watches me from the table cushion. Deciding I’m not the least bit interesting, she begins to groom her face.

  “Don’t you have a guinea pig in here somewhere?” I ask, looking for a cage.

  “In the bunkhouse, on the table under the right-side upper bunk,” Landon says absently. “Everyone hates it, but Hunter’s attached to the rodent, so it’s still traveling with us.”

  “And the cats get along with it?”

  Landon chuckles darkly. “Mostly.”

  Feeling awkward, I stop in front of a United States map above the dinette. I’ve seen it before—lots of the people passing through the campground have ones just like it. You add a state sticker for every place you’ve been.

  The Tillmans have been to a lot of states.

  Landon catches me staring at it, and he comes to stand by my side. “Crazy, huh?”

  “You’ve been to all those places?” I ask, slightly awed.

  Most of the states have stickers, though there are still a few they haven’t been to in the middle of the map. Maybe that’s what they’re doing now—filling in the rest—starting with Colorado.

  “We sure have.”

  I turn to look at him. “In two years?”

  He nods. “In two years.”

  “Wow,” I murmur.

  For some reason, it makes me sad in a selfish sort of way. Landon’s been to all the places I’ve only read about or seen on TV.

  As if sensing the shift in my mood, Landon bumps my shoulder. “The offer still stands—you can hide in our storage compartment when we leave. I’ll sneak you trail mix, string cheese, and bottled water.”

  I laugh. “That’s very generous of you.”

  “I do my best.” Remembering our purpose for coming inside, Landon opens a cabinet above the dinette and pulls out a charge cord.

  I gape at the equipment he has stored up there. He’s like an electronic-hoarding squirrel, hiding away all his cameras, computers, and accessories.

  “What could you possibly need all that for?” I ask.

  He glances over his shoulder, and a slow, crooked grin builds on his face. “It’s for our YouTube channel.”

  “Your YouTube channel?”

  Without a word, Landon pulls down a laptop and brings up a page. It takes forever, but it finally loads. And there he is, along with the rest of the Tillmans, staring back at me from the screen. I’m mesmerized both by the content and the fact that their hotspot is working over here.

  I step forward and scroll down the page without bothering to ask permission. They have pages and pages of videos…and over a hundred thousand subscribers.

  “You’re not on there,” Landon says casually, hands shoved in his pockets, “if that’s what you’re worried about. We always ask permission first. I was going to compile the first video before I showed it to you.”

  I look at him over my shoulder. “This is yours?”

  “My family’s, yeah.”

  It looks so professional.

  “I’m…wow. This is impressive.”

  Not only are there videos of the United States, but trips to Mexico and Canada as well. The Tillmans have videos of national parks, state parks, theme parks…anything and everything and more. Most have tens of thousands of views, and many of them have even more than that.

  “I figured you thought I was insane,” he says, “since I talk to my camera all the time.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  He laughs, more than a little amused.

  “Do you film all these?” I ask.

  “No, it’s a family effort. But I make about half of them now.” Landon gives me another minute to gawk, and then he asks, “Are you ready? I really am starving.”

  Slowly, I nod and close the laptop, knowing full-well I’m going to stalk the page later tonight.

  ***

  Midnight rolls around, then one, then two. It’s three-thirty in the morning right now. I’m going to be worthless when the sun comes up, but I can’t seem to close my browser and go to bed. I really do feel like a stalker watching the Tillman’s family videos, but it’s not like they haven’t posted them for all the world to see.

  Landon looked younger when they started those two years ago. He was lanky, a little less defined. He didn’t talk much in the beginning, was even a bit camera shy. With time, he’s gotten bolder, more sure of himself.

  He regularly gets mentioned in the comments. Landon’s so cute. Landon’s so smart. Landon’s so funny.

  I don’t love the comment section, to be honest.

  Caleb is hilarious, always moving, always questioning, always looking for more. McKenna’s darling, and Hunter is…Hunter. He smiles when people aren’t looking, is kind and attentive when he doesn’t realize the camera is trained on him.

  I still can’t believe the places they’ve been, the places they’ve seen.

  Have you watched the one where they went to the Grand Canyon? Paige texts.

  I called her last night, filled her in on what I learned. We’ve been watching them together, from our own homes, and texting each other like we’re binge-watching the latest Netflix series.

  Yeah, I answer.

  I thought Caleb was going to fall off the ledge on that hike!!!

  I smile, loving her a little more. She’s always there for me, even if it’s just to keep me company while I stumble deeper into a crush with a boy I can’t have.

  There are all kinds of videos on the Tillman’s channel—several talking about R
V repairs and traveling full time, some explaining the family’s favorite meals and how to conserve water and tank space when you’re dry camping. I skip a few, but I don’t want to miss any with Landon, so I’ve watched them all for the most part.

  Even though it’s well into the AM hours, I start another video. They’re headed home in this one, meeting with old friends and family. As I watch, the butterflies in my stomach die and are replaced with a chunk of cold, unfeeling iron.

  Paige texts several times, but I ignore her, knowing she’s seen it too…and I don’t want to talk about it.

  Half-ill, I end up falling asleep sometime between four and the time my mom comes knocking on my door. Light filters through my curtains, alerting me to the fact that it’s morning. My laptop lies next to me, still open.

  I blink as Mom pokes her head in the room. I’m so tired my eyes hurt.

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asks, frowning.

  “I stayed up too late,” I admit.

  She comes inside and sits on the side of the bed. “What were you doing?”

  “Watching YouTube videos,” I croak, covering my head with my pillow to block out the light.

  “Finally figured out the Tillmans have a channel?”

  I peek from below the pillow to glare at her. “You know?”

  “Of course I know. Sarah filled me in the day they arrived, explained why they were going to be walking around with cameras and asked if it was okay if they showed some footage of the campground.”

  I grunt.

  “Did you have a good time with Landon yesterday? I saw you go to the cafe for lunch.”

  Of course she did—the coffee shop is just across the street.

  “Yeah.”

  “It makes me happy to see you having some fun. You work too hard.”

  “Why does everyone keep saying that?” I demand, pulling the pillow off my face.

  “Because you do.” She squeezes my shoulder as she stands, heading for the door. “There’s banana bread on the counter when you’re ready for breakfast. Mark’s in the office, and I’m going to sculpt for a while this morning.”

  “Okay,” I mumble, hoping to fall asleep again.

  But sleep doesn’t come because I learned something last night, something that changes everything.

  Landon has a girlfriend.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sweaty strands of hair fall in my face, but I ignore them. My whole focus is on the tub in Cabin Three—making sure it’s clean, making sure it sparkles.

  If I’m not careful, I’ll scrub a hole right through the porcelain.

  I knew better than to soften my heart to a summer boy.

  I knew better.

  If I’m hurting, it’s my own fault. Summer boys are cheaters. They leave their regular lives, come to Colorado, have flings with the local girls, and then go back to their girlfriends in the fall, pretending nothing happened in the months they were gone.

  That’s what Thomas did, except he went above and beyond. He cheated on his girlfriend with me, and then he cheated on me with Gia.

  In my mind, Thomas’s face blurs with Landon’s. They become one and the same—the boy who has a girlfriend back home but shamelessly flirts with the meaningless girl he meets on vacation.

  “Your mom should give you a raise,” a male voice says from behind me. “You’re putting a lot of effort into cleaning that crazy-white tub.”

  Landon.

  I whip around, seething mad. “What are you doing here?”

  His eyes widen with surprise, and he looks torn between responding with shock or laughter. “Your uncle said you were here. I’m going to go out on a limb and guess I’ve done something to upset you.”

  I toss the scrub brush in the tub and rip off both of my long, yellow cleaning gloves as I stand. “I watched your videos last night. Straight through.”

  Slowly, he raises his eyebrows, waiting for me to continue. Something about the fact that he won’t even fess up to what he knows I learned irks me even more.

  And then the anger leaves me. Like a puff of smoke, it’s gone, and I’m left feeling…nothing.

  “You have a girlfriend,” I say, letting my hands fall to my sides.

  He crosses his arms, and his expression grows cool. “You watched the videos chronologically, I assume.”

  That’s how he responds? Who cares what order I watched them in?

  I hold my hands out—a silent “so?”

  “You started at the beginning, watched until you saw the footage with Evie, and then you decided I’m a jerk and quit?”

  Actually, I fell asleep. I guess I’m a glutton for punishment because before I drifted off, I kept watching, playing video after video until unconsciousness found me.

  “We broke up in February.” He stares at me, his face unyielding. “It’s not something we made a big deal of in the videos, but Hunter mentioned it.”

  Crossing my arms, mirroring his guarded pose, I study him. His light manner is gone, replaced with something we share. Hurt.

  They didn’t just break up. Evie left him—I have no doubt.

  “I’m sorry,” I say, feeling sort of awful—but still a little betrayed, even if it’s not justified.

  Landon doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flinch.

  “So, what was this?” I motion a hand between us. “From the look on your face, I can tell you’re not over her.”

  Finally, he moves. He looks down and lets out a frustrated breath. “This was me trying.”

  Trying to move on, trying to act normal. I get it. I really do.

  The sleepless night catches up with me, and I walk out of the bathroom and sink onto the edge of the bed. “Last summer, a guy started hanging around the campground,” I begin, needing to share my own story. “He was cute; he was interesting. He comes to Gray Jay with his family every summer, and I really liked him. We’d been together for two months when I caught him making out with another local girl at a town picnic.”

  Landon watches me, staying silent.

  “I was so hurt,” I admit, still feeling a twinge of pain now. “Two weeks later, Thomas’s actual girlfriend showed up to surprise him for his birthday. It was a surprise all right—she caught him with Gia.” I scowl at the comforter. “At least it wasn’t me.”

  “Did you know he had a girlfriend when you were together?”

  “No.”

  Landon’s quiet for several long seconds as he processes the information, and then he says, “You are the queen of depressing stories.”

  I jerk my head his way, meeting his eyes. There’s humor there—not much, but a little.

  “My mom has been pushing me to ‘get back out there,’” Landon says almost wearily.

  Slowly, I nod. “Mine too.”

  “She likes you.”

  “My mom likes you as well.”

  He gives me a sideways look. “They’ve been plotting.”

  So, he’s noticed. The two have been spending all kinds of time together, forming a fast friendship over coffee and sewing projects, apparently plotting ways to “fix” their broken children.

  Landon’s face softens, and he sits next to me. “How long do you think it will take to get them to leave us alone?”

  “About three months, give or take a few weeks.”

  A morbid smile stretches across his face. “When we leave.”

  “When you leave,” I agree.

  He turns his head and studies me. “What if we give them what they want?”

  Apparently not all the butterflies are dead because one gives a half-hearted wing wiggle in my stomach. “What?”

  “Be my girlfriend, just for the summer. If they think we’re together, they’ll dream up another project and leave us alone.”

  “Like…fake girlfriend?”

  It sounds lame…but it’s not entirely ridiculous.

  “It wouldn’t be a terrible thing to have you by my side when Thomas shows up,” I muse out loud as I run an appraising eye over him. Not terrible at al
l.

  Landon laughs—it’s a real laugh too, not a morbid one. “I’m nearly positive Evie still watches our channel.”

  I picture her—this ex-girlfriend. I’m sure she’s pretty. Guys like Landon don’t usually date girls who aren’t.

  I’m quiet for too long, and he looks over.

  “You’re a little too charming for a fake girlfriend,” I say. “Why don’t you find yourself a real one?”

  “I don’t have the energy for a real one.” He tilts his head to the side. “Why don’t you find a real boyfriend to throw in Thomas’s face?”

  “I don’t have the patience for one,” I answer.

  “Fair enough.” He holds out his hand. “So, how about it? Real friends, fake dating?”

  I study him for several moments, and then I clasp my palm in his. “Yeah. Okay.”

  ***

  Hand in hand, Landon and I walk into the coffee shop. Mom’s not here today, but since Betta sells her art, they talk often. It won’t take long for news of my date with Landon to reach her.

  The bell tinkles over the door as we walk inside, and people glance our way. It’s packed for mid-afternoon, but I only recognize a few locals. It’s usually nothing but tourists this time of year.

  “Hey, Betta,” I call, stepping up to the counter. The owner is about the same age as my mom, but her brunette hair grayed early. She chose to go the natural route, and she wears her almost white locks long and usually twisted up. She’s the organic, natural type, though I know for a fact she visits the pizza place every Friday evening with her niece for a deluxe pepperoni with extra cheese.

  Betta’s eyes go between Landon and me, and a big smile lights her face. “Good afternoon, Lacey. You haven’t been in for a while.”

  “We’ve been busy,” I tell her.

  She shakes her head as she puts the finishing touches on a latte she’s working on. “Your mom says you work too much.”

  I roll my eyes. “I’ve heard.”

  Laughing, Betta hands the latte to the waiting patron and turns her full attention to us. She smiles at Landon. “And who might you be?”

  Even though Landon isn’t a real boyfriend, I still feel my cheeks heating. This is what it’s like in a small town—everywhere you go, it’s like bringing a boy home to meet your parents.