The Season of You & Me

by Robin Constantine

  “Dudes, you know this is a long time coming. I had my first slush at Sip N’ Freeze when I was seven years old, tried so many combos, but it was not until last year, when they had a special flavor—Cinnamon Red Hot—that I fell in love and found the perfect match.”

  “Did he really just use the word love?” Tori whispered.

  “So tonight, this is a celebration of the newly christened Bardot Shaka Blast.” He lifted up the cup. “Long may it give the fine people and visitors of Crest Haven brain freeze.” Nick threw a shaka sign and howled before downing the cup.

  We all followed. Cass and Wade both had their hands up to their foreheads. Tori took a small sip, winced, then put it down again.

  Jake Matson’s silver pickup came sweeping into the parking lot and pulled into the last open spot. Matt hopped out of the passenger side and they sauntered across the asphalt. Cass was already talking scavenger-hunt clues again.

  “I bet it’s cake batter!” she said. “Or maybe brownie batter?”

  “Cake,” I agreed. “Only now what? How does all of that fit together? I’m starting to agree with Wade.”

  “Hey, what did we miss?” Matt asked, sidling up to us. His eyes landed on Cass’s and my clasped hands. He raised his eyebrows in surprise or approval, I couldn’t tell. He gave me an almost imperceptible nod and smile.

  Approval.

  “Nick just christened his new flavor,” Tori said, handing Matt a cup. He took it.

  “I thought you were going to wait,” he said.

  “They were melting, bro, had to do the toast. By the way, Tori, thanks,” said Nick.

  “For what?”

  “All your kitchen experiments have honed my taste buds. Well, that and the ‘do you want to be a slug all your life’ lectures—the answer is no. Thank you.”

  Tori raised her eyebrows at him, and I braced myself for her usual sarcastic comeback, but her face softened. “You’re welcome, Slush King.”

  “So have we had enough?” Cass whispered in my ear.

  “God, yes,” I said, catching a kiss before she pulled away.

  “Are you guys heading out?” Nick asked.

  “Yeah,” I said.

  He and Matt exchanged glances.

  “Um, hold on,” Nick said. He whispered something to Matt and Jake, and the three of them walked off toward Jake’s truck. There weren’t gone for more than a minute when Wade tapped my shoulder.

  “I think they, um, want you to go over there,” Wade said.

  “What? Why?” I asked.

  All I wanted to do was leave and get horizontal with Cass. I’d thrown a blanket into the car so we could head to Crescent Beach to look at the stars. Make some more memories. Wade looked at Tori. She sighed.

  “They just do, come on,” she said.

  I backed away from the table and navigated the parking lot with Cass, Wade, and Tori following close behind. Matt had his hands on his hips, as he and Nick looked over something in the flatbed. They moved apart as we got closer. Nick opened the flatbed and smiled.

  “So, um, I thought since tonight was a celebration, it would be a good time to share some of the love, and, well . . . ta-da . . .” He and Matt reached in and pulled out . . .

  The quad fish.

  My fish.

  But it wasn’t my board. At least not the way I remembered it.

  There were handles near the top of the board, and the end dipped inward, concave, and it just . . .

  Knocked the breath out of my lungs. I should have been stoked. They did this. For me. I looked up at Cass. She smiled, gave my shoulder a squeeze.

  “When did you do this?” I asked.

  “Dude, look, it’s your board, all tricked out, so you can ride,” Nick said.

  “Ah, yeah, I see that.”

  Matt fidgeted. “I wanted to do something for you. I didn’t think—well, I knew if I asked you, you’d say no.”

  “But you did it anyway,” I said.

  He grabbed the board out of Nick’s hands and put it back in the flatbed.

  “I’m sorry, I just thought if you saw it, you’d want to give it a try,” he said. “Bry, we want to help you.”

  “And if I don’t want your help? What if I wanted to sell it? What if I wanted to put it on the wall in my room? What if I wanted to burn it? You . . . you just had no right to take it without asking me.”

  I turned to Wade. “Did you know about this?”

  He pressed his lips together, nodded.

  “Bryan, we thought—”

  “No, you didn’t think, because if you did . . . you wouldn’t have done this.” I wheeled around, determined to get as far away from the board as I could. I couldn’t breathe. My car. Once I got to the Charger I’d be okay. Cass followed.

  When we got to the car, I saw that someone had parked their big, stupid rust-colored Hummer over the diagonal lines that designated my space as handicap parking. The vehicle wasn’t exactly in my spot, but there wasn’t enough room for me to get to the driver’s side door. I closed my eyes.

  “Bry, man, I didn’t think—” Wade was next to me.

  “Did I ever say I wanted to surf? Did those words come out of my mouth? I said maybe. I said someday. I don’t get why you don’t understand that.”

  My voice was loud, and the others from the party were now looking over. It felt like the whole line was looking over at me too. An older guy with a beer gut and tan cargo shorts shuffled out of the line. The alarm dinged on the Hummer.

  “I’m outta here.” I wheeled my way through the parking lot, no idea where I was headed. I’d get the Charger later. I pushed farther away from the lights of Sip N’ Freeze without looking back.

  “Hey, wait.”

  Cass.

  She crouched down next to me, touched my arm. Her look was soft, sincere. Did she know how much it meant to me that she’d said I can handle it? It scared me too. This growing feeling I had for her. I felt like I could tell her anything.

  “I thought we were going to look at the stars,” she said.

  “I can’t go back there, not right now.”

  “Well then, what do you want to do?”

  She looked so pretty, smiling at me, hair around her face. This would not end well. I knew it.

  What did I want?

  I wanted to walk. I wanted to surf. I wanted to feel Cass against me.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay, come on. I have an idea.”

  Her idea was a hammock in the yard at Ocean Whispers.

  And in spite of everything that had gone down, it was pretty inspired. Although I had no clue how I was going to get out of the hammock, at the moment, I didn’t care. I could sit there for eternity, my hand in her hair, her fingertips grazing my chest under my shirt.

  Back and forth, back and forth, she tickled me. I kissed the top of her head.

  We didn’t talk, and I was grateful. The parking-lot scene was fading, felt less jagged. They should have known better than to spring that on me. They should have known how much that board had meant.

  “Can I say something?” Cass asked.

  “As long as you keep touching me like that,” I said.

  She laughed. “Okay.”

  She ran her fingers across my chest a few more times before speaking.

  “I’m sorry for what happened back there.”

  “Cass. You didn’t know about it, did you?”

  “No, but hear me out, Bry.” She paused, nestled into me some more. “As an outsider, what I see? Are people who care about you. I don’t think they meant anything by it, other than wanting to see their friend happy. It’s nice, from my point of view anyway. Not everyone has a group of friends like that. I know I don’t.”

  I knew I should see it her way, and deep down, some small voice was saying just that. These guys cared about me, wanted to see me succeed—hell, I wanted to succeed, but I couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to surf with my, well . . . limitations. And to see my board with handles? I hadn
’t asked anyone to do that. As much as I knew I needed to move on, I didn’t want to completely forget who I’d been either.

  Where I was wasn’t bad, only different.

  I had friends, a job, a fast car, a girl touching my skin.

  “You’ve got that now,” I whispered.

  Cass looked up, scooched closer.

  “Have what?”

  “A group of friends who care about you.”

  She smiled. “So I’m not just a summer girl?”

  I pressed my lips against hers, quick, light.

  “Never,” I whispered, and kissed her again.

  It was midnight by the time I got home. I was about to go through the front way when I heard the scrape of a skateboard. There could only be one person out on the half-pipe this late. I made my way to the yard and wheeled closer to get a look.

  Matt.

  He had the lights on and was rolling back and forth, pumping hard, kick-turning, and grinding on the coping when he reached the top of each slope. He looked good—he looked damn good actually—but I watched as he wiped out attempting to do a front side one-eighty. He hit the slope hard and rolled down, the board right behind. Ouch.

  I slow-clapped to let him know I was there. He jerked his head around, then grinned. He stood up, grabbed the board, and walked over to me.

  “How long have you been there?” He sat on the edge of the half-pipe. He had a bottle of Gatorade there, took a swig, and offered me some. I shook my head.

  “Long enough to see you wipe out. You were bending your knees too much.”

  “You could tell that from there?”

  “Yeah, you have to make sure your weight is even, then . . .” I had the urge to get up and show him. “It’s easier to demonstrate than talk out. You should have Nick show you sometime, he was always good at them.”

  “He’d be stoked you said that.”

  I laughed.

  “So, you and Cass, huh?” he said.

  “Me and Cass,” I said.

  “She seems cool.”

  “Yeah, it’s nice.”

  “Just so you know, I wasn’t completely down with giving the board to you tonight. I don’t know, Nick’s a good guy; he thought it would somehow make it more meaningful if we did it that way. I talked him out of presenting it to you in front of everyone.”

  “Thanks,” I said.

  He took another gulp of Gatorade.

  “And Matt, thanks. It just, you know, took me by surprise. You’re right, I probably would have said no, and then what? The fish deserves to be in the water, not hanging in a shed.”

  “I never rode it, you know.”

  I looked at him.

  “Okay, maybe once before bringing it in.”

  “Maybe you can save up, buy your own.”

  “It’s not some shit job, either. Steve did it.”

  “Surf-shop Steve?”

  “Yep, glassed it himself too. Bryan, you got lots of people pulling for you. We want to help. I don’t know what you’re waiting for. I know you want to do it.”

  “It’s not . . . it won’t feel the same.”

  “You won’t know until you try.”

  “Fine. Before the end of the summer.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  TWENTY-ONE

  CASSIDY

  TIME ACCELERATED WHEN I WAS WITH BRYAN. One beautiful Crest Haven day stretched into another, and in the blink of an eye, it was Thursday. Morning swims and crazy car rides. Watching the sunset and hanging at Sip N’ Freeze. Talking about everything and nothing and wanting it to never end. Gavin was a memory. He’d taken the hint and stopped texting. Ems had been right—I was over him and finally experiencing the summer I should have been having all along.

  I knew, like, really knew, I needed to keep things light with Bryan, but when I was with him, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. Neither of us spoke about what would happen when camp was over and it was time for me to go back to my real life. We never talked about staying in touch, but it also felt understood that we would.

  At least I hoped so.

  Everyone at Camp Manatee was in a frenzy, campers and counselors alike getting ready for Friday’s showcase night. Bryan’s group had extra practice for their performance, so they were skipping out on cooking for the day, which was fine because Tori and I were figuring out our own game plan.

  I’d been happy there was no residual weirdness after Ems had hooked up with Wade. Tori said she’d been angrier with Nick for being so careless than with yet another one of Wade’s hookups, but I wasn’t so sure. It must have sucked seeing Wade kiss Ems, but I decided to drop the subject. Tori and I had been getting along great.

  “All we have to do is bake something to serve the parents, smile, and answer questions they might have about the program, but hopefully they’ll be too busy stuffing their faces to talk.” Tori paced in front of the classroom, wringing her hands.

  “I’m pretty certain you can run a small country. Why are you so worried about this? This class is the best,” I said.

  “It’s the first year, so the thought of feedback makes me want to vomit. I mean, I want it, so we can improve, but what if—”

  “Everyone loves it, chill,” I said.

  “I hope Mr. Beckett wants the class for next year. I have so many more ideas. Think you’ll be back?” she said.

  I smiled. “So even if Liv is here, you’d want Benny Barbie to be your co-counselor?”

  “I guess it wouldn’t suck to hang out with you again,” she said, joking. “That overnight s’mores oatmeal recipe you came up with for the tweens was perfect. Maybe next year we could each take certain weeks to plan. Alternate coming up with stuff.”

  “I’d like that,” I said.

  “So what do you think we should make for tomorrow night? Cupcakes? Everyone loves cupcakes. Or maybe a few different kinds of cookies.”

  “Or both,” I teased.

  “Cass, come on, think.”

  “Okay, cookies—cupcakes have the icing factor, and the paper-liner thing, and cookies you can just grab and go. Less garbage, smaller carbon footprint.”

  “See, we make a great team. I think we have the stuff for triple-chocolate-chip cookies. We can make them with the kids in the afternoon. I want to try a peanut butter oatmeal no-bake recipe at home. Think you can make something non-chocolate—like sugar cookies; say three dozen for tomorrow?”

  “Sure.”

  After eating dinner and baking three dozen sugar cookies with Hunter, I went for a ride with Bryan to Crescent Beach.One blanket, a few warm sugar cookies, and us equaled the end of another perfect day. We sat side by side, looking up at the changing sky. I fed him a piece of sugar cookie. He nipped the tip of my finger. I grinned.

  “So, do you think I should do it?” he asked.

  I rolled to my side and propped myself up on my elbow to look at him.

  “Do what?”

  He turned his face to me, shielding his eyes from the blinding rays of the setting sun.

  “Surf.”

  “Do you want to do it?”

  “I don’t know, sometimes I think yes, sometimes no—it’s scary to think of all that could go wrong.”

  “You can’t let that stop you,” I said.

  “Will you be there?”

  “Do you really have to ask?” I said, popping another piece of sugar cookie into his mouth. He chewed and stared up at the sky.

  “Have we made enough good memories in this place to make you forget about why you came to Crest Haven?”

  I smiled. “Yes.”

  “I wish . . . ,” he said, then stopped. I thought he’d eventually elaborate, but he remained silent.

  “What?”

  “I wish I could stand, hold you against me. I wish the summer wouldn’t end. I wish you’d known me . . . before I fell.”

  “Bryan, I know you now, and you’re pretty awesome,” I said.

  “So I’m not just a part of proving to someo
ne what a good time you’re having without him?”

  “Remember that first day, when I saw you?”

  “In this parking lot? How can I forget.”

  “You wanted to help me. You’re kind, Bryan. I see you with the kids, with your friends. You’ve got a wild streak, and these guns,” I said, running a finger along the length of his bicep. “I mean, come on. Why would you even ask that question? I think you’re . . . incredible. Why are you with me?”

  He looked at me. “You’ve got a cute butt.”

  “Omigod,” I said, nudging him.

  He tucked a piece of my hair away from my face. “Because you’re sweet when nobody’s watching. You make me laugh. You make me think things aren’t so shitty.”

  We kissed. I put my head on his shoulder and looked up at the blanket of sky.

  “I wish the summer wouldn’t end either,” I said.

  It was futile to wish, I knew it, but I felt it just the same.

  On Friday night, the plan was for Bryan to pick me up so we could go to showcase night together. He’d never seen me in anything dressier than shorts and a lacy tank, and I felt like glamming it up. (At least the beach-bum version of glam.) I’d thrown on the sundress my mom and Nan had sent me in their first care package and put on a sea-glass necklace I’d purchased at one of the promenade stores. I was putting the finishing touches on some beachy waves in my hair when my father appeared in the doorway, an odd look on his face.

  “Is he here already?” I asked, releasing a lock of hair from the curling iron. Bryan was supposed to text me when he was out front. I glanced at my phone—nothing from him, but a few from Emma that I’d missed in my fury to get ready.

  “There’s someone here, but it’s not Bryan,” my father said.

  “What?”

  Even as Dad said Gavin’s name, I scrolled through Emma’s texts—

  SOS

  G is on his way.

  Prick alert!

  Hello? Cass?

  I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that Gavin was downstairs. Waiting. For me. I shouldn’t have been surprised—it was classic Gavin to show up unannounced. It was something I loved about him at first—his spontaneity—but Mom and Nan had made me look at it in a different way. That spontaneity was his way of controlling the situation; of being able to see me precisely when he wanted. Maybe I knew that by ignoring him, he would pull something like this. The timing, however, sucked.