by Shey Stahl
Just as I was coming down, you whispered, “If that were true, Sophie, you would have already let me have you all the way.”
The comfortable glow of the sunset scattered my thoughts in all directions. I nodded; there was a lot of truth to his words, knowing this summer was a little different and not knowing just how different next summer would be. I hated the way you referred to it, as if it was just an act and nothing of substance. Maybe that was what kept me from doing it for so long.
July 2007
Sometimes when you were young, you made stupid mistakes. We all made them and then days later, months, or years, you looked back and wondered if that was where it went to shit. Was it then? Could I have changed things if I did that differently?
About two weeks after I got to the lake that summer I made a big mistake. Ivey decided to have a party one night when your parents weren’t there. You were in Atlanta, said you’d be back in a couple days and returned the night of the party.
When I asked why you were going to Atlanta, you wouldn’t answer. More secrets. I was upset and thought for sure you were going to see someone, or worse, Hadley, who was now going to school in Atlanta.
But that wasn’t where I went wrong. That was where you went wrong, right? Mine started later that night.
Ivey invited a bunch of people from school, including Wyatt and his buddy, Landon.
The hot Georgia morning woke me from my sleep, and I quickly realized where I was and more importantly, whom I was with.
Gathering what I could, I left Wyatt sleeping on the dock and bolted for your parents’ house. Once inside, I took a quick assessment and realized my shorts were gone. My bikini bottoms were intact, but the top, who the hell knew where that went.
Ivey stopped me when I got inside. “So …” She chuckled to herself, attempting to hide her smile over a cup of coffee. “You and Wyatt … again?”
“Shit … who saw?” I asked, knowing damn well someone, maybe even you, saw us.
“Pretty much everyone who was here last night. Include Sadie and Stephanie.”
“Man … that sucks. What did they say?”
“Nothing. Sadie left with Bensen around ten.”
“What the hell was Sadie doing here? And when did Bensen get here?”
Ivey shrugged. “No idea. I think Sadie was just looking for a ride back to Atlanta. Not sure though.”
“Oh …” I sighed and then thought about my actions. “I can’t believe I lost my shorts. Have you seen them?” I asked Ivey, frantically stepping over people still sleeping on the floor and searching through piles of towels and clothes.
“No … you didn’t lose them, though.” Ivey laughed. “Brady tossed them in the lake this morning.”
Figured. He was always doing that shit.
“You don’t remember last night?”
“Shit … did I have sex on your lawn?’ I knew we got carried away a few times, but I didn’t think alcohol had that much of an effect on me. I was so disappointed with myself I felt like crying. I felt like I let you down, but more so myself. I had no feelings for Wyatt, and he knew that.
“No, you didn’t.” Ivy looked toward the door when Grayden came inside holding his head. We both looked the other way. I wasn’t in the mood for him today.
“Who saw?” I gave Ivey a terrified look.
“Calm down,” she assured me, placing her hands on my shoulders. “No one saw that I know of. You came in to go to the bathroom and grab a few beers. Chase and I were out here on the deck and saw you two so we kept everyone away. A few hours later there was a case of beer out there, and your shorts were being taken off. I tried to get Chase to leave, but …” Her voice faded, and I knew something was up. “I tried to get the camera away from him.”
“HE. TOOK. PICTURES? That motherfucker, I’m gonna kill him!” I screamed, heading for the door, outraged.
“Wait,” Ivey yelled after me. “Don’t you want to see?” She smiled, holding the camera in front of her.
I grabbed it from her. Of course I wanted to see.
I scrolled through the pictures. Mostly just us making out, Wyatt was on top in most of them, but a few I had rolled on top of him. In a couple of them, his hands were up my shirt, my bare skin visible. In a couple of them I was kissing his chest and stomach. There was one of him obviously kissing my breasts, but thankfully, I was lying down so Chase didn’t see anything, but my shirt was almost completely off, not to mention my bra. My hand immediately went to my breasts to check for my bra.
I was horrified—I was a becoming one of those girls I hated.
Ivey laughed and threw a bra toward me. “So you got drunk and acted like a teenager, big deal. Stop caring so much about what my asshole brother thinks.”
Ivey busied herself cleaning up the mess as I sat there sulking in my discovery until you came walking in. I still had no pants on—just a tank top and some cheeky underwear … and no bra. Crap! I frantically hid the bra in my hand behind me back.
Grayden came strolling in behind him with a pompous look of self-satisfaction. “Good night, Sophie?”
He was taunting me. I knew it. I could only focus on you, though, bloodshot eyes, messy hair, and a wrinkled white button-down shirt with khaki shorts. It looked like you had gone on a job interview the night before and never changed out of the clothes.
I suddenly felt sick to my stomach knowing that was why you probably left the other day. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be here with high school kids; it was that you were trying to do something good for yourself.
You saw the camera and gave me a sideways grin, reaching for it as you approached me. I pulled it back a little, trying desperately to get it away.
“So … do you remember anything?” you asked softly with that darkness to your question.
“Not really.”
I knew what was coming as soon as you saw the pictures. When you looked up at me, my stomach dropped. You weren’t angry. You looked scared, like you’re ready to throw up.
“So you say no to me but fuck him?” you huffed in frustration, and when Ivey was finally out of sight, and we were the only ones left, you added, “I have no fucking idea why I care or bother with you.”
“You know what, I would if you could actually tell me that I’m the only girl you see. Fucking own up to it, and then maybe I would.”
There. I did it, and it felt good.
Was that when it changed? Did it change when I finally stood up for myself?
I didn’t think it did. No, not with someone like you.
You looked at me for a moment, your mouth moving like you were going to say something, but then you frowned and turned to walk away.
“Oh, okay. Thanks for caring, asshole,” I said to your back. “Thanks for making an effort to be more than a friend. That’s why. You know that, right? That’s why I won’t fuck you.”
You stopped dead and turned to face me, a smile spreading over your face. You nodded, your eyes ready to burn a hole through me, giving me a slow clap, and then I realized that there were a few people standing around staring at us.
I huffed and flipped you off, and you winked. “You’re such a prick!”
I pushed you back and dumped what was left of a half drank beer on you.
You didn’t like that one bit.
Stumbling for a moment, you swooped in and wrapped your arms around my middle and spun me around, carrying me kicking and screaming into the kitchen. I tried to push your arms loose, but your hold was too strong. “Stay out of my life!” I screamed, smacking at your back.
You opened the door with one hand, holding me still with the other. Pushing me inside, the door slammed shut. Both of us stood there, staring, unsteady with anger. You unbuttoned your shirt, the one covered in my beer. Slipping your arms out, your eyes remained on mine as you threw it at me. The wet fabric slapped against the tile at my feet.
“Pick it up, Sophie,” you said slowly, rough with anger.
“Fuck. You.” I was on the brink
of tears, trying not to let you see that I was once again upset over you. I wanted to cry so badly. I wanted to curl up in a corner and cry so hard there was nothing left. Maybe then I could get over what would never be in your mind because that was exactly what I had been trying to do with Wyatt.
You didn’t like that answer. “No.” Your shook your head, an annoyance I understood in your glare. “You won’t do that either. Pick up the fucking shirt.”
“No!” I screamed with everything I had. I thought, hoped even, the power of my voice in that moment would make you see. The thing was, you didn’t need to yell to make me see.
No. Your looks got your point across just fine.
I didn’t care who heard us or what my words meant to you right then. All I knew was that a part of me hated you for always treating me like a child. You were the one person who I didn’t feel little around, because we surely didn’t act like I was that young, but somehow you always had the ability to destroy that, reminding me that I was, in fact, younger than you. You acted like it was such a big gap, too, that you had so many more years on me. But you didn’t.
When I looked at you again, your eyes were dark, so dark it was scary. “You wanna know where I was?” Your voice was deep, etched with a pain I never truly understood.
“No, I don’t care anymore.” I sounded my age, again, and if that didn’t give it away, my pout and the crossing of my arms did.
“While you were here fucking around again, I was on an interview. Sorry for trying to make something of myself …” You paused, meeting my eyes, taking a step toward me. I took two back, needing some distance between us. “For you.”
I felt like shit. Absolute shit. “Why would you do that for me? Do that for yourself, Bensen.”
“You really have no fucking clue, do you?” You dared me to answer you with pleading eyes and mournful shoulders.
“I don’t because you won’t say it.” Your face turned pallid, every breath shaking your frame. You parted your lips, intent on saying more than what you wanted, but then it passed, and your eyes darted around the room and to your shirt again before locking with mine.
“You’re little, Sophie. Please stay that way,” you said.
“Yeah, I get it Bensen.” My tone was bitter and sharp as my eyes narrowed. “Too little for you to feel anything more than for the summer.”
“You have no idea how I feel, Sophie. No idea,” you said, eyes fierce and determined as you picked up your shirt from the floor, never breaking our stare. “But I’m done with this shit.”
You were right about one thing. I didn’t know how you felt because you never told me. All I got was crude statements and a constant reminder that I was young.
Did you tell me you loved me, or anything close to that?
No.
So was that when it changed?
I didn’t think it was.
I wanted to walk away that day. I should have. Maybe then I wouldn’t be in college and writing in a journal to a long lost love just to remember.
But for me there was something deeper, something that rooted me there. It was the fact that you were the only signal my brain registered, whether I wanted it to or not. You were what my eyes wanted to see, and the only one they did see. You were the taste my tongue wanted and my body craved. You were the beat in my chest and the flow in my veins, the touch my fingertips ached for, and the body my legs wanted to be wrapped around.
We stood there starting at each in your parents’ kitchen for what seemed like forever. I wondered what you meant by ‘I’m done,’ and I guessed you were waiting for me to object. With the absence of your words and your vacant smile now, I knew you weren’t pleased. But I didn’t care.
Fuck … I did care. Yeah, I was starting to care, and you knew it. Controlling bastard.
“Why did you leave with Sadie?” Rage was taking over. I was going for anything that would make you feel what I was feeling, so I brought up what I knew would set you off—accusations. Lately I had been going crazy over the fact that I had no title with you despite wanting one. I felt like I was nothing but a toy, something you played with when you wanted and shelved up high enough out of everyone’s reach when you weren’t ready to bring me down.
I wanted respect from you; I wasn’t something you could just store away after the summer.
You laughed, amused I was resorting to that, but your face flushed, the only indication I got that you were at least a little bit uncomfortable. “You think I fucked her, don’t you?”
“I wouldn’t be surprised if you did,” I admitted with shaking words, looking down at my feet.
You pushed past me, knocking your shoulder into mine, and headed for the back door. I could tell the conversation was over. Without looking at me, you talked to the wall, “I didn’t do anything you didn’t do.”
There it was. Not my answer, but another piece of my heart chipped away. It was there at your feet waiting to be kicked out the door, but instead slammed in it.
I wasn’t as naïve as you thought. This was real life, and people didn’t always change. No matter how much you wanted them to, they didn’t. I had honestly thought we’d finally come to our breaking point and tonight you’d share more of yourself. Whether I wanted to see it or not, you would always be unpredictable and living on the edge, doing and saying whatever you wanted, because God forbid someone told you how to act. Looking at you then, my insides felt shredded, and some part wondered if we would ever be more after the summer.
2008
I was finally eighteen. I had graduated from Savannah High School and got accepted to the University of Georgia with Ivey. Shanna and Stephanie had both gone there, and though I never wanted to follow in their footsteps, I liked that college.
The Giants finally won the Super Bowl and knocked New England down a little. The Phillies won the World Series. Twilight was topping the charts, and I’d be lying if I didn’t hope to find my own sparkling vampire in the woods. Admittedly, I’d read Twilight three times.
Heath Ledger died. Sadie, who couldn’t decide what the fuck to do with her life these days, locked herself in her room for a week. I made her watch Brokeback Mountain, and she moved on.
Bernie Mac died. That sucked. I loved that guy. Paul Newman died, too—Mom cried.
The average cost for gas was $3.39 a gallon. Blue-ray HD was a huge thing so now movies cost thirty bucks. Bullshit.
Last summer, we ended on a bad note, but it had taken exactly seven hours and twenty-three minutes before you were apologizing to me. Had our relationship changed?
Yeah, I guess in a lot ways it had. I learned a little about that night—to never assume anything—and you, well I liked to think you weren’t quite as possessive.
I wanted you to come to my graduation, but you said you had to work. I ended up getting a text from you, though: But I could stop by later and take that gown off with my teeth if you’d like?
That was all wishful thinking because we were, in fact, hours apart. But not for long.
The summer started like every other summer had. I arrived at Aunt Megs’s and quickly found myself at your parents’ place. You had just arrived from Gainesville where you’d apparently been working. Not much was said about your job when we talked throughout the year—just that you were working with a company that installed granite countertops. Your dad’s business hadn’t been doing all that well so they sold their home in Alpharetta and moved into the home on the lake. Brady wasn’t too pleased having to leave his friends back home, and more importantly, his little girlfriend who he refused admit was his girlfriend. He was following in your footsteps.
You looked over at Brady as we watched the NASCAR race that Sunday afternoon. “What are you doing with her?”
“She’s a friend.” Brady shrugged, his attention mostly on the television. Bobby Cole was competing in the championship this year and leading. “I guess.”
“You sound so stupid when you say shit like that, little man,” you said, putting your arm around me
. It was such a natural reaction these days for us to just sit like this, but nothing was ever mentioned. In reality, if you really looked at the relationship we had, it was fucked up beyond belief. Every summer we spent out here, together, but every fall, winter, and spring, we were faintly anything.
Brady sighed. “She’s with Rager Sweet, and he’s a racecar driver. Not much of a competition for that one. I don’t even have a fucking job.”
I laughed beside you, he really was taking after you.
“Punch him and take the girl,” you went on to tell him. “It works in the movies. Besides that, he’s fucking thirteen, dude. You’re fifteen. Get your shit together.”
“Says the person who hasn’t kept a girl more than a week.” Brady eyed the two of us suspiciously.
“That’s by choice, buddy.” You clasped your left hand over his shoulder as he leaned forward to watch the final laps of the race. “Don’t give up. If a guy goes into a fight thinking there’s a chance he might lose, whatever the percentage is, he’s already lost.” You winked at me.
Sometimes people changed, but they didn’t actually change. Something, anything, everything was the same. You were just noticing them differently.
I was noticing you differently.
June 2008
Graduation from high school came and went, and now I was facing the last few months before college. A good part of me was excited, but I was also scared for what that actually meant. I’d say a good part of you had those same fears.
“Where are you going next year?” you asked, looking at me as if I had never mentioned it before. You knew, though, because you’d asked what my plans were for a few years now. College wasn’t your thing, I knew that, and you made it clear to anyone who asked.
“College,” I admitted, my shoulder bumping into yours as we walked out your front door and stepped foot on the pebbled stone pathway that led from the front porch to the concrete driveway. Flowers surround us, all bursting in the heat of the day, bright red, yellow, and pink.
