Midsummer Fling

by Abby Knox

  “I…” I don’t even know where to start right now. But I offer, “It’s cathartic? I guess?”

  “You know what’s a better story? How human hands built the locks to tame water, and how that complicated feat of engineering controls the movement of 90 percent of the country’s iron ore.”

  The last time I heard someone get excited about iron ore, I was falling asleep in my high school geography class. This lecture does not make me want to fall asleep; it makes me want to jump his bones. I take a step closer to him. I can’t help it. He’s all worked up, and I blame the pheromones. “Fine. I’ll go with you on Lock Day, if that’s what you want.”

  “Good,” he says firmly, as if he’s just won the argument.

  “But you’ll go with me to Mackinac Island and keep an open mind?”

  “No. Maybe.”

  “Great,” I reply. “Lock Day is tomorrow? I’ll be ready early.”

  “Fine.”

  “Super,” I said.

  “Awesome,” he says, heading off to shower.

  Out of respect for his boundary that I’ve crossed with the hanging of this bra, I take it down and march back to the great room and hang it on the pull chain of the ceiling fan using a piece of fishing line.

  Chapter 10

  Josh

  Thirsty. So thirsty.

  I reach for a stainless steel cup in the kitchen because if I take a glass one, I’m likely to bust it in my fist.

  Penny is still hanging out on the futon, getting her scent all over it, when I finish my shower.

  Somehow I gotta have an outlet for this pent-up anger at the pervert who stole her undies before I track him down and pound him into the ground.

  “Please tell me they caught the guy who did it,” I say through gritted teeth.

  “Wow, you’re really invested in this story,” she says, looking up from her book.

  Lady, you have no idea.

  “I can’t stand creeps.”

  She nods in approval but fixes me with a curious look. “Well, we never made a case out of it, but I think I know who it was. The neighbor was always a little weird around me. He would sit on his mom’s porch and watch my girlfriends and I play basketball in the driveway. We asked him to play once, but he said no, he just sat there making us uncomfortable. Out of the blue, he asked me to prom. I said, ‘Dude, I’m 17 and you graduated five years ago, why would you care about my prom?’ And he said, ‘You smiled at me; I thought it meant something.’”

  “Gross.” This dude seriously makes my skin crawl.

  She nods vigorously. “Yeah, so if I don’t smile it makes guys upset. When I do smile, they accuse me of leading them on. So now I just say ‘fuck ‘em’ and live my life.”

  Suits me fine. “Whatever keeps the creeps away,” I say, a little bit too growly. And any other dudes but me, for that matter.

  But she won’t have to do it alone now. I’ll be the one to keep the creeps away from now on.

  “If guys have such a history of behaving like sleazebags around you, why would you…why would you be okay with sharing a cabin with me?”

  That’s my million-dollar question. Why would she not be afraid of me? She should be. I jerked it just last night because I couldn’t stand to lie awake all night thinking about her stumbling to the bathroom in those tight PJ bottoms.

  Penny’s response is to soften her face, stick out her bottom lip, and give me puppy dog eyes. “Because,” she says, standing, flitting around the kitchen island and wrapping her arms around me. “You’re my Josh. And I know you.”

  I know it’s a friendly hug, but she’s not wearing a bra. My arms squeeze her tight against my frame. She says she knows me, but if she knew what I think about her, what I’m going to think about her tonight, she would peel out of here and never look back.

  “My vacation friend Josh would never do anything to creep me out,” she murmurs, her voice vibrating into my chest, setting my pointless man nipples ablaze. God help me, I bow my head and sniff her scalp. Her soft, earthy scent hits me with that same ache, my body and my brain working in tandem to speed this process along.

  She lets go slowly, but I have no intention of letting her get away from me just yet. Her face turns up toward mine, and my lips land on hers in a soft, tender kiss. Her lips taste like peppermint.

  “Josh.” Her voice is not reproachful. I should stop now.

  “Goodnight, Penny.” The kiss to her forehead is brief; I let go and set about making up the futon for the night. I don’t turn around because I’m about fifty percent ashamed. I shouldn’t have done that.

  She says nothing but goes to her room and closes the door. I quickly shower and brush my teeth and find my way to the futon in the dim light. We’ve got an early start tomorrow, so even though it’s still light out at 10 p.m. this far north, too much sleep is better than too little.

  Staring up at the ceiling, something strange is hanging from the pull chain. I sit up to examine it.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Surely she did this to taunt me.

  I stand up and yank it down angrily, taking half the pull chain with the bra.

  “Dammit,” I mutter.

  The pull chain re-attaches easily, but I have no idea how she got her bra attached and I would not even want to try to figure that out.

  So of course, I do the weirdest thing possible. I tuck her slightly damp bra under my pillow and hold it while I go to sleep.

  Chapter 11

  Penny

  Thank goodness Joshua decided to do some early morning fishing before our day trip. He says he’ll be back by eight a.m., so I have the entire cabin to myself for a few hours. I miss my usual ritual of moisturizing and air drying after my shower, so I take full advantage of alone time.

  I putter around in the kitchen preparing breakfast and coffee, smiling to myself at the thought of knowing Josh is going to drink coffee that I made while stark naked in the kitchen.

  While the coffee machine is running, I turn around to fetch the cream out of the refrigerator and a cup. When I turn around, I come face to face with Josh.

  “Whoa, Nelly!”

  He averts his gaze and throws up a hand to block the sight of me. At the same moment, I scream and grab the only thing near me, which is an apron hanging on a hook. I quickly fix it in place.

  “Cover yourself!” Josh shouts.

  “I’m covered! What are you doing here? I thought you were going fishing!”

  He lowers his hand and looks over at me, his face changing from red to almost purple.

  His hand flies back up to block his eyes. “I was, but the fish weren’t biting so I thought I’d come back and see if you wanted to get started earlier.”

  “Oh,” I say. I look down at myself. “What’s wrong? I covered up.”

  He gives up and turns his back to me. “Uhh, I don’t know how to explain that an apron over top of your naked body is somehow worse.”

  “Worse?”

  “That’s not what I meant. I mean like…ah shit, don’t make me say it. Can you just go get some clothes please?”

  “Joshua, all the important bits are covered…”

  He interrupts by blurting out, “It’s the side boob. So much side boob. Can you please…?”

  I look down again and finally see what he sees. “Oh. Sorry,” I breathe, flitting off to my room and slamming the door.

  Changing into my outfit for the day, a sense of shame overtakes me. I don’t think I can face him. What he must think of me.

  Chapter 12

  Joshua

  What she would think of me if she knew what I did last night, the mind cringes.

  I spent half the night comparing the cup size of her bra with the width of my hand, imagining how much of her soft skin would fit and how much would overflow. I imagined what color her nipples would be. The size of her areolas. I’d been wrong on both counts. They’re larger and darker than I imagined.

  How can I tell her that by putting on an apron over her naked body
is about ten times sexier than flat-out naked, because the side boob brought to mind other things, specifically how many of my sausage fingers would fit lengthwise in the under-boob area? The answer is two fingers. I thought her cleavage was wonderful. But her side boob and under-boob are lethal.

  I’m not sure how long I’ve stood here pitching a tent in the kitchen, waiting for her to get dressed. Thinking about her boobs makes me lose track of time.

  While I wait, I fill up two travel cups with coffee for the road.

  She finally emerges from the bedroom wearing a flirty yellow polka dot sundress that’s got ruffles from top to bottom. I am doomed. Not only is it impractical for touring this mega facility on the water—what if there’s a sudden updraft?—but the dress is begging to be touched, played with, hiked up around her waist while I stroke her to kingdom come.

  Oh jeezus, I am just as atrocious as that next-door neighbor creep she told me about. Lock me up and throw away the key. Clothes don’t beg for anything. But fuckity fuck that body, and that apron, and that dress, and that friendly, chattering tone of hers. And her soft, open heart.

  “Ready!” she chirps, dabbing on some lip balm.

  “Good. Let’s go,” I say, a little too gruffly. But I don’t want to go anywhere. I need to run my hands all over all those soft curves, rub my thumbs over her nipples, taste her skin, explore all the wonders underneath those frills.

  “Uh, it’s hot out there, I’m gonna grab us some water bottles, too.”

  “I’ll get ‘em,” she chirps.

  “Ah no that’s…”

  But she’s already filling it with ice and water, attaching the lid with a forceful snap, and padding over barefoot to hand it to me. I hold all the bottles and coffee cups in my arms while helplessly watching her bend over, showing me her cleavage while she pulls her sandals on.

  “What’s that noise?” she asks.

  I look around. “I don’t hear any noise.”

  She shrugs. “I thought I heard a bear growling outside. Probably just my imagination.”

  Not your imagination, my girl. That was coming from me.

  Chapter 13

  Penny

  As it turns out, Lock Day is way better than I assumed it was.

  The vast, highly-secured facility is full of special exhibits, and we even get to walk across the lock walls that are normally inaccessible to visitors. A tour guide explains how the water comes in by gravity and allows the passage of huge freighter ships that come up from Lake Huron, run up the Saint Mary’s River, and go on to Lake Superior and down the western side of Wisconsin to unload in Minnesota. Or, in the case of ships going the other direction, following Lake Huron around the peninsula and under the Mackinac Bridge to Lake Michigan and down to Chicago. It’s pretty cool and staggering to think of how much depends on the passageway in this little town that’s a stone’s throw from Canada.

  The entire time we are touring the facility, I keep getting the sense that Joshua is watching my face. Is he trying to make eye contact for the sake of eye contact or is he watching my face for a reaction, like friends do when introducing each other to their favorite TV show? I’m reminded he’s taken this tour many times before.

  “You know,” I say after we end the tour, “I never would have done that on my own, but that was pretty cool. Thanks for sharing that with me.” We’ve exited the heavily guarded USAC area and have wandered to the quaint downtown of “The Soo” for a bite to eat. We pick up some delicious-looking portable crepes and meander toward the waterfront park to find a place to sit and eat our late lunch.

  When a sudden wind off the water kicks up, I realize my choice in a dress might not have been the best. I yelp and make a feeble attempt to hold my dress down in front. Meanwhile, Joshua is all over it. He squats down and wraps both of his huge arms around my legs, holding my dress flat against my legs.

  “Thank you,” I say, laughing. “But you can’t stay like that all afternoon.”

  We must look like weirdoes, me standing in the middle of downtown, Joshua kneeling, his face pressed up against the outside of my leg. “Sure I can,” he says, laughing. “I can eat just fine down here.”

  “Joshua!” I snap, laughing harder.

  “Penny, you know that’s not…jeezus.” Now he’s laughing and I’m about to drop both of our crepes.

  “I think the wind has calmed down some,” I say. “You can get up now.”

  He replies, eyes level with my lady bits, “Maybe I like it down here.”

  I shake my head. “You like to pretend you’re a good boy, but you’re not!”

  He stands and takes both crepes out of my hand and offers me his arm. “You finally got me pegged, Penny.”

  “Oh my god. Let’s find a place to sit and eat before we get in trouble,” I say.

  Josh becomes extra animated when he talks about the ships.

  “That one there is my favorite,” he says, pointing at one with a bottom half painted red. “That’s a thousand footer.”

  I try not to ever talk with my mouth full of food, but the urge to mock him is relentless. “How can you have a favorite cargo ship?”

  He looks at me like I should already know the answer to that. “The name. Victor Q. Gleb.”

  “I hate to break it to you, sweetie, but that’s not a real name.”

  “Sure it is.” He proceeds to inform me about who Victor Q. Gleb is and how he came to have a ship named after him, and then tells me about the history of the ship itself.

  I can’t say I’ll remember everything he’s telling me, but he sure is fun to watch when he’s excited. He’s like a little kid talking about his favorite Avengers characters. Smart guys with unique hobbies are sexy as hell. He rambles on about all about ship facts until it’s long passed through the locks and another one is coming up behind it.

  “Oh!” he says, pointing again. “See that one there? That one came straight down the Saint Lawrence River from the ocean, traveled down to Lake Ontario before it made its way up here.”

  I’m getting quite an education today.

  “How can you tell?” I asked.

  He points to the bow of the ship. “See that round ball on the bow, down near the water? That’s how you know it’s a Salty.”

  I nearly choke on my banana Nutella crepe. “Salty balls? I’m listening. Go on.”

  Josh shakes his head, but it’s too late. He’s laughing too. “No, the ship is called a ‘Salty’ because the sea is salty and…it’s not exactly a ball, but a protuberance…you know what? Never mind.”

  He takes a huge bite of his crepe.

  “Aw, honey. I’m sorry. Tell me more about the salty balls!” I urge.

  He’s trying not to spit out food.

  I touch his shoulder. “Why are you turning so red? Are you choking? Did I shock you? Do you require mouth-to-mouth?”

  He chews thoroughly and swallows while he recovers his composure. “No, I nearly lost my shit because you just got cuter, if that’s possible.”

  I smile and finish off the rest of my crepe. “I’m sure I’m even more attractive while stuffing my face.”

  Josh blinks, his gaze taking in my mouth, my eyes, my hair, my chin. “Don’t even try to be self-effacing. I’m not buying it. But you do have a little…” He gestures with his pinky toward the corner of my bottom lip.

  I swipe it with my napkin and apologize. “How’s the peanut butter and jelly?”

  “Best PB&J of my life. Except for the one you made for me.”

  Confused, I correct him. “I didn’t make you a PB&J. That must have been your other girlfriend.”

  Without missing a beat, he says, “I was thinking of the one you’re gonna make me when we’re married.”

  The words coming out of our mouths sound like a game of one-upmanship, like we’re trying to scare each other away. But there’s a certain sense of sincerity behind it.

  “Did I freak you out?” he asks, wiping his hands and face down with the wet wipes from my purse. “Because a w
oman who carries wet wipes in her purse is marriage material.”

  He’s not wrong. I wouldn’t say no if he asked me.

  “I tend to believe in fate, and our meet-cute will definitely be a story to tell our grandchildren.”

  He playfully scoffs. “Grandchildren? Oh, did I not mention I don’t want any children at all?”

  My jaw drops. I know we’re just playing around, but this actually could be a dealbreaker.

  “Gotcha.”

  I punch Josh in the shoulder. Maybe a little too hard. “Listen. If we’re going to date then let’s date. But you should know I hate pranks. Hate. Them. So if you ever make jokes like that again, I will hide Legos all over the floor of your house for you to step on.”

  Although I’m still a little mad, I bus away all of our trash to the nearest receptacle. When I return to the fountain, Josh grabs my hand and laces his fingers through mine, kissing my bottom knuckles. His lips brush so softly, but the reaction inside me is like someone lit a hundred sparklers at once.

  “Come here.” He pulls me down on his lap and kisses me before I even know what’s happening. His warm lips envelop all my senses. Heat floods me, sparks electrify my skin. His tongue flicks the edge of my lip. My heart rate spikes. He pulls away with a mischievous smile.

  I narrow my eyes at him. “Did you…?” I start.

  His sheepish gaze tells me all I need to know. “Yeah you still had some stuff on your lip and I wanted to help you take it off.”

  When he says, “take it off,” a heat builds down deep, between my legs.

  I respond by licking my lips and studying his face, trying to decide where I want to kiss him back. “Tell me more about salty balls,” I say, arching my eyebrow.