For the Summer

by Shey Stahl

  “You don’t mean it. You mean it right now, but in the morning … it’ll change.” You stopped moving.

  “Why, because of that kid?”

  “No, this has nothing to do with Wyatt.”

  What you didn’t see, and maybe you never did, was that I would never be just yours. There’d always be girls like Hadley who kept your interest in the fall and winter and when baseball didn’t have your attention in the spring. She was safe until I was convenient. She was your age, and her daddy probably didn’t want to kill you like mine did. I may have had your attention in the summer, along with others, but for me to get all your seasons wasn’t possible.

  I looked up at you, your eyes hooded and breathing shallow. You slid off the bed, standing in front of me. You were unbuckling your belt and unzipping your pants. Pulling them down, I saw you for the first time, naked.

  I swallowed. Or maybe gulped. I was pretty sure I gulped. Reality was there, and it was hard to decide what to do next. I was so young, so innocent, but you made me other things, sweet and salty and snarky, and I was horrified at what to do. I knew you wanted to have sex. I knew that.

  Your hands were at my panties, tugging. My hands flew to your hands clenching the fabric between them, resistance meeting you. My knees shook at your sides, knowing if I said the words, you’d stop.

  With a quick flick, your hands shook mine away, and you tugged my white lace down. Moving forward, you were there for the first time, bare, against me. I was fifteen. Barely fifteen. Suddenly the age was there, flashing numbers at me. “Bensen …” My voice shivered, trying to find words, anything. “I … please don’t—”

  Reaching between us, you positioned yourself there, lining up, ready. I could feel you, wanting to move. Watching me, so carefully, you shook your head, pushing forward a little.

  “No, not like this!” I screamed.

  You stopped right away. You weren’t even in. The thing was, I wanted you like that, I did. The thoughts had been there for a while, but like this?

  “Why won’t you?”

  “I just can’t,” I whispered, trying to move, but you wouldn’t let me. Slowly your hand went back between my legs.

  “It would be so good,” you said, pushing your fingers inside me. That you’d done before. It wasn’t as surprising to me. So instead, my hand found you, and just when I thought you were going to stop me, you groaned, pushing my hand down harder, rubbing against it. I had nothing to compare it to, but it felt right, exactly the way my sisters had described it feeling. Somehow my hand was pushed aside, and your attention was on pleasing me. Still hovering over me, your arms trembled from the weight bearing down on them. The ache between my legs was almost too much to handle. Slowly kissing my neck, your fingers pushed into me, harder and harder until my legs fell open and my back curved.

  “Now imagine that with me inside of you, all of me.”

  Your hand returned to mine, wanting me to touch you. Moving my hand along your length, soft and like marble.

  Dropping your forehead onto my shoulder, you whispered something I couldn’t hear.

  Wanting to see your face, I peeked up at you; the moonlight from your open window captured your eyes, heaving and red.

  Your sharp intake of breath when I began my long, hard strides told me what I was doing was wanted, vulnerable even, and emotional. I wasn’t sure I had any clue as to what I was doing, but it was apparently doing something for you.

  It wasn’t long before your body began to shake, your voice returned against my lips as we shared breaths. I was doing that. Me. Little sweet Sophie was making your body shake, bringing you to the edge of that blissful high.

  “Fuck, Sophie … don’t—” you began, but didn’t finish, your eyes losing mine as my hand was covered, and I had no idea what had just happened. I knew one thing; I wanted that side of you. I never wanted to look back.

  You surprised me when your eyes found mine again. “I’m not seeing Hadley … ever again.”

  And all was forgiven because you and me felt like we. Fifteen, though incredibly frustrating and life changing, was a good year for me. So much of my independence that I had now came from that summer and the things you showed me. Looking back on it now, you controlled me in ways no fifteen-year-old girl should have been controlled by a boy. It wasn’t healthy. That summer, and even more specifically, that night, I realized that I did love you. The scary kind of love. You know, the one that had you forgiving and falling when you shouldn’t.

  “Bensen?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I won’t kiss Wyatt anymore.”

  “Good.” Your laugh was still breathless. “Or I’ll break his face next time.”

  2006

  I was finally sixteen. Old enough to drive but not much else. Could I legally smoke? No. Could legally drink? Nope. Really, just old enough to drive. That was it.

  The average price of gas was around $2.89. YouTube became one of my favorite websites. I’d spend hours on that damn site just looking at nothing but laughing nonetheless. MySpace was popular, too. Never got into it, as my dad would have killed me. My mom started selling sex toys to make extra money. Not kidding. Turned out that when you were living on your own, it was a lot harder to raise kids, even with child support.

  It wasn’t like my dad wasn’t around anymore, though, because he was. He was living with my uncle in Atlanta while Mom, Sadie, and I were still in the old house in Atlanta.

  I thought about moving with my dad to be closer to you, but I couldn’t leave my mom.

  Pittsburgh won the Super Bowl against Seattle.

  A stingray killed Steve Irwin. I thought for sure an alligator would have killed that crazy bastard.

  The Saint Louis Cardinals won the World Series.

  Barry Bonds surpassed Babe Ruth for the most home runs. I sent you a text, knowing Baby Ruth was your favorite. You sent me back a sad face.

  I started watching CSI with Ivey every week. We’d text throughout the entire show only to be interrupted by you asking who I liked better, you or her?

  I answered her every time just rile you up.

  We talked often on the phone that year, and thankfully with my parents’ marriage still on the rocks, I was allowed to go back to Aunt Megs’s for the summer. I think they just needed me out of the hair for a while. Not that I was a bad kid, because I was pretty freaking good all year, in hopes I’d be able to go back to that lake.

  There was so much that happened in life that was left out. And though these were highlighted events that tied directly to you, shit happened in my world outside the lake, but none of that meant anything once I was there at Lake Lanier for the summer. The memories and experiences I held for the summer were what carried me through all those months away from you every year.

  You graduated that year. And nothing big was done in celebration, or so I was told. A few days before I arrived at the lake I found out you were at a party Grayden threw for you. I felt a little left out not being invited.

  When I did arrive at the lake, I wondered if your current mood was any indication as to how the summer was going to go.

  You were standing at your truck, leaning over the bed with your shoulders tense, head hanging.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, my arrival known not only by my voice, but also by the crunching of gravel.

  I took a step in your direction, and you stepped back. “What are you doing, Sophie?”

  When I looked at you, I saw the beer in your hand, and the cut on your lip. “What happened?”

  You sighed, stepping forward, closer, so close I could feel the warmth of your breath mixed with beer. “Pissed my old man off.”

  “How?”

  “Never important,” you said, ignoring the question, barely acknowledging my presence. “Did you just get here?”

  “You can tell me … you know.”

  You seemed lost in your thoughts, confused by not only my words, but also my reaction. “Why does it matter?”

  “Bensen!” R
obbie hollered from the porch. “Get back in here!”

  You closed your eyes and breathed hard, attempting to ignore Robbie who was hell bent on making you listen for once.

  “Fuck off,” you said, not loud, but he heard you nonetheless. You stood between us, blocking my view of him.

  Your dad’s eyes were fighting for composure as he pointed a finger at you. “Don’t talk to me like that, Bensen. I don’t give a shit if you are almost nineteen.”

  “Oh, well, shit. Sorry sir.” You were feeling brave, courtesy of the beer. I realized then you were two different people, just like everyone else. You were the boy with manners who your mamma raised, but you were the same boy who told his dad to fuck off. You were the boy who would kiss me and then never mention it again. You were the boy who blew off his friends to sit with a girl who broke her ankle, and the boy who got stoned at his younger brother’s birthday party.

  Robbie was off the porch and had you pushed against the side of your truck with his hands on your shoulders. Narrowed eyes and tight lips, you weren’t giving in. I backed up, giving you guys space when Ivey came outside. She too came over, smiling, but quickly frowned when she realized you two were at it again.

  Robbie wanted to hit you. I could see it, and you knew it, instigating as such, tempting him. And with your bloody lip, I was sure he probably already had. Your mom came out, too, yelling at Robbie to leave you alone, words that only fell to hot-tempered, closed ears.

  Robbie was yelling again, words and threats I didn’t understand.

  Your lips quirked, doing your best not to smile, but your posture was stiff, ready for a fight. “It’s not that big of a deal, Dad,” you replied, sounding bored, uninterested in anything Robbie had to say to you, as usual.

  “You’re a no-good son of a bitch, Bensen. You know that?”

  You laughed with a bitter edge. “Nice Dad. Thanks for believing me.”

  “I’ll believe in you when you finally do something with your life besides getting high and fucking around with an underage girl.”

  Ivey, Lindy, and I all looked from your dad to you and back again, shocked.

  Without another word, you took off walking the other way toward the lake.

  “Hey, wait up!” I called out, stumbling after you. Ivey and your mom tried to talk to Robbie.

  You came to a stop but didn’t turn around. When I caught up with you and touched your shoulder, you shook me off and spun around to face me. Your face was red, flushed from the interaction with your dad.

  “What the fuck does he know anyway?” you spit, pacing in front of me. “He just can’t say it, can he? Couldn’t he just for once in my fucking life say ‘Good job, son.’”

  “Bensen …”

  “I played good the other night in that championship game.” Now I knew what it was about. Baseball. Your usual conversation. “No, fuck that, I played awesome out there. I won that fucking game for our team, but no, he can’t even say that. He congratulates Grayden because he’s working for him. He’s living his dream. But he can’t with me because I refuse to live his fucking dream.”

  “Maybe he just—” The words died in my throat when you glared at me in disbelief that I would defend your father.

  “Don’t you start making excuses for him. Don’t!” you demanded, your voice loud and threatening. I took a step back because your intensity was scaring me. It was draining being around you when you were like this.

  “I know …”

  “No, you don’t know,” you said, your voice lowering to a bitter whisper.

  “I’m not defending him … I—”

  “You just what, Sophie? What the fuck can you say that’s gonna make his behavior okay?”

  You glared, and before I could say anything else, you leaned in and said, “Do you wanna know the last time he said he loved me?” You didn’t wait for my response. “I was seven years old and went to work with him for Bring Your Kid to Work Day. He only said it because I went to work with him. That night, when I told him I didn’t want to run the family business and that I wanted to play ball, he stopped saying it.”

  “Bensen …” I reached out for your arm, but you flinched away.

  “Save your sympathy,” you spat. “Just go back to Savannah. You got no business even being here.”

  “Bensen—”

  “Why do you do this to me?” you yelled.

  “Do what?”

  “You’re fucking sixteen. Sixteen years old! I shouldn’t give a damn, but look what you do to me!”

  “Bensen—” Again, you cut me off. I was getting pretty upset about that.

  “You’re just a kid. Go home.” You shoved your hands in the front of your hoodie and tried to walk away.

  It hurt. It hurt really bad to have you shut me out like that.

  “No, I won’t. You’re being a jerk.”

  You turned on your heel and faced me, anger lighting your face again. “Fine, say it, Sophie. Tell me you want me. Do it.” You took both my hands forcing me to look at you.

  “Tell me you’re not seeing girls back home.” It was a pretty low blow, but you had it coming, and I thought you knew.

  Your face gave you away before your words did. “You don’t know anything.”

  I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate you so bad and never look back. But … clearly I didn’t. My mind raced to find ways around this but couldn’t.

  You were angry, and I saw your confidence waver. “You think you know, don’t you? You think you’re so fucking smart, yes?”

  “Bensen.” I sighed. “Don’t do that.”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Be that way.”

  “What way?”

  “Like you’re trying to be an asshole to avoid getting hurt.”

  “Oh Sophie.” You were mocking me. I knew that. “It’s not a way. It’s me. I’m an asshole. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

  You saw my expression and continued, just because.

  “I can’t be your boyfriend, Sophie,” you said adamantly, as if I was stupid for even thinking that. “We can be friends, sure, whatever that is, but I can’t be your boyfriend. It would be a fucking disaster.”

  “I don’t want a boyfriend,” I said, sharply hating the fact that I was lying. I was so pissed.

  “Yeah, okay.” You laughed, brushing past me without another word.

  I wanted to leave that night. I almost did. I didn’t have my license yet, but if I thought I could have gotten away with it, I would have taken Aunt Megs’s car and left.

  Just as I was contemplating asking someone for a ride, even Wyatt at that point, Ivey knocked on my window.

  “Can you say you lost your virginity if you don’t remember it?” she asked, stepping inside, wearing a pair of cut-off jeans shorts and her Alpharetta Raiders t-shirt she stole from Austin.

  “How do you not remember it?”

  Ivey shrugged. “I just don’t. I remember bits and pieces, but I got high with Bensen and Grayden after their game, and then I woke up with Austin.” Ivey frowned. “I really wanted to remember that, too. Seemed like he was probably really good in bed.”

  I shrugged. “He probably was. Did he wear a raincoat?”

  “Yeah … I think he did.”

  Ivey sighed, falling against my bed and lying next to me. “Has he talked to you since?”

  “He sent me a text asking if I wanted my panties back.” She rolled her eyes. “I guess that’s talking to me.” Rolling from her back to her stomach, she looked at the pictures on the wall from last summer. “We need to find boys our own age I think.”

  There was truth to that.

  “Should we celebrate? I mean, you did lose your virginity.”

  Ivey looked at me once again and shrugged. “Believe me, it doesn’t seem as exciting as I thought it was. Don’t get high before you do it. I think it ruined it for me.”

  It wasn’t long and Ivey was asleep next to me in my bed, but I couldn’t get my mind off you.

  Lo
oking out at the lake, ‘cause something inside me told me to, there you were, sitting in the grass by the swimming cove.

  When I was sure everyone was asleep and the night was clear, I snuck back to our world, with you in the grass in your parents’ backyard, safely under the pine tree.

  I didn’t hesitate to make my way to you, even though I was still pretty pissed. Your hand clutched my upper thigh as I sat beside you, holding me there. Then your lips were hard and desperate on my skin, demanding my attention. “Fuck, Sophie, just fuck … ” you repeated, again and again.

  You pushed me onto my back, hovering above me. Your skin was hot against mine, and it wasn’t from the night. Your hands were forceful, taking over, discovering and commanding my attention just like they always did.

  Looking over my body, you glanced from my face, down, all the way to between my knees. Your hands held my wrists captive above my head. You released my right wrist and used your free hand to push down on my hip, gripping under my knee and touching my face with the other. I kissed the inside of your palm, trying to decide where you were going with this and how far I’d let you go.

  When I reached up to push you away, my hand on your chest, you moved it to kiss the inside of my wrist and then my elbow. “Please,” you whispered. “Please.”

  The tip of your nose glided up the side of my throat.

  “Please what?”

  You placed your hands beside my head, supporting your weight as you looked down at me. “Let me be with you.”

  I wasn’t totally sure what you were asking for because you were always so hot and cold. I rolled my eyes, and you dropped down, placing all your weight on me. Your head fell to my chest, placing your ear over my heart. So I ran my hands through your hair, a gesture I wasn’t sure was appropriate, but I did it anyway. I was mad at you, but I was also confused.