Summer of Seventeen

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  Sean nudged my shoulder. “Lacey’s here. Gonna see if I can hook up.”

  “Yeah, man,” I muttered, without opening my eyes.

  As an afterthought he said, “She might have some speed. You sure could use it—although you look like you’ve got your hands full right now.”

  I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t wrap my mouth around the words.

  Erin must have gotten bored, because when I opened my eyes again, she was gone.

  I started feeling like I might throw up, so I shouldered my way through the crowds of drinkers, dancers, slackers and stoners, until I found an empty bathroom upstairs. I heaved a couple of times, spitting out damn near pure alcohol. My head spun, or maybe my head was still while the room spun around—it was hard to tell. My stomach lurched again, and I clung onto the sink. When the wave of nausea subsided, I drank some water from the faucet, then stumbled into the bedroom and passed out on the bed.

  I was dreaming about Yansi. We were in my bedroom and it was dark, which was strange because my room never got fully dark; the curtains were too thin, the streetlights too bright, but now it was filled with shadows. She was kissing my neck and it felt so good, and I said her name, but her lips murmured against mine, silencing me. Her hands slid across my chest under my t-shirt, and her fingers traced the ridges and planes of my abs, stroking lower. Then her hands were on my belt, and I liked this dream because normally she called time-out on going this far.

  Even though I was so totally wasted, I was still getting hard, with her warm hands rubbing firmly across the denim. Then she tugged down on my zipper and I struggled to open my eyes, wanting to see this, urging her on by rocking my hips into her hand.

  She dragged my cock out of my jeans, and I hissed softly. Her warm, wet mouth closed over the tip and I groaned as she sucked hard. Part of me wanted to say, not here, not like this, but I didn’t want her to stop either. Up and down, hot and wet and tight, and I couldn’t breathe.

  Her head disappeared, and my cock wept silently, but then I could feel her right over me, lowering herself down and I lost a little more of my mind.

  Oh fuck, that felt good—soft and heated silk as the head of my dick sank into her, stroking me from all around like nothing I’d ever known before. Shit, I was gonna lose it fast. Too fucking good.

  Her tongue was against my throat, and my body was thrusting, thrusting, sweat and heat; her humid breath across my face.

  It was awkward and rough and I couldn’t find a rhythm. Then her musky scent hit me and my eyes snapped open.

  Some girl, not Yansi, and I was sick and horrified and hard as I fucked her or she fucked me.

  “Come on, babe,” she moaned, scratching at my chest and shoulders.

  I did and I didn’t want to stop. Couldn’t stop. And I came in her and on her and on me. And she slumped down onto my chest, hot and heavy, breathing vodka fumes into my face. I pushed her limp body away and stumbled to the bathroom, splashing cold water on my face and traitorous cock.

  There was a light above the sink and when the yellow bulb flicked on, I had to squint against the brightness.

  When my eyes adjusted, I took a deep breath and turned back to the bedroom.

  Erin’s face surrounded by a mop of dirty blonde hair smirked up at me.

  “Hey, Nick. Some ride, huh? Where’s your precious Yansi now? She doesn’t put out. She doesn’t know how to party.”

  She crawled off the bed and pressed her tits against my back. My head was still spinning, and my stomach rolled with disgust and regret. I struggled to stand up as she wrapped herself around me again, and I pushed her away so she crashed back onto the bed.

  “You fuckin’ bitch! I can’t believe you did that!”

  Her eyes widened in surprise, then she laughed harshly.

  “It wasn’t just me. You were hard, babe. You can’t deny it. I’ve still got your cum inside me.”

  She saw the appalled look on my face, and her smug expression slipped a little.

  “Don’t worry. I’m on the Pill.”

  That was only one of my worries, but my brain still wasn’t fully functioning.

  “Jesus Christ, Erin! I was drunk. I was passed out asleep, for fuck’s sake!”

  She leaned up on her elbows, staring at me critically.

  “You don’t look that drunk.”

  She was almost right, disgust sobering me quickly. Although I wouldn’t have tried to drive a car, the last five minutes had cleared my head considerably.

  “Are you so desperate for a fuck that you wait until a guy’s passed out?”

  Her face darkened and she scowled.

  “I’m not a slut. You asked me out on a date once. If it hadn’t been for that Mexican bitch, we’d still be dating.”

  I swore loudly and she backed up the bed a little, wary now.

  “Are you really that deluded? We had one lousy date. One goddamn awful date where I couldn’t wait for it to end so I could get rid of you. That had nothing, nothing to do with Yansi. You’re a whore and you’re sitting there with your panties God knows where, and you’re calling her names. I don’t want you. I’ll never want you. Is that clear enough? Have you got that through your dumb skull?”

  Her mouth trembled, but then she sat up straight and tossed her hair over her shoulder.

  “Clear. Very clear, Nicky. You don’t want me. Fine. But your precious Yansi won’t want you either now.”

  A shock of electricity passed through me, then my shoulders slumped and I sat on the bed tiredly, resting my elbows on my knees.

  “So, that’s it. You wanted to fuck things up for us.”

  There was silence for a moment, then she rubbed my back and I cringed away from her touch.

  “Am I that bad?” she asked, a crack in her voice.

  I glanced over my shoulder and saw the glint of tears in her eyes.

  I hated it when girls cried—that was my Kryptonite. I felt like shit, even when I wasn’t to blame. And I didn’t know if I blamed her or blamed me or blamed this whole fucked up situation.

  “This should never have happened,” I said quietly. “But I shouldn’t have called you a … those things I said.”

  Her lips trembled and tears started to trickle down her cheeks, carving salty tracks through her heavy makeup.

  “I can’t believe you were so horrible. You’ve always been nice to me. I thought … I thought…”

  “You thought wrong,” I said firmly.

  I looked down, studying the new calluses on my hands, and she sighed softly. Then I felt the mattress move and the rustle of material as she straightened her clothes. I hoped she found her panties.

  “I won’t tell anyone,” she said. “Your dirty little secret is safe.”

  The door closed behind her and I was alone.

  Guess I wasn’t a virgin anymore.

  It wasn’t as great as I thought, and definitely not how I’d imagined it happening. I thought it would be something I wanted to remember forever; now I couldn’t forget it fast enough.

  And what the hell was I going to say to Yansi?

  I don’t know why, but I thought Erin would keep her word. But it didn’t mean that other people hadn’t seen us—or heard us.

  I wanted to get the fuck away. I looked for Sean but found Rob, asleep on a pile of coats. I shook his shoulder, but he swore softly then rolled over and started snoring.

  I had no choice but to walk, feeling the weight of every step, more and more appalled by what I’d done.

  I was that guy—the one who cheated on his girlfriend. Maybe the apple didn’t fall too far from the tree after all. Not that I knew anything about my dad, except that he hadn’t stayed.

  I wished again that I’d asked Mom about him before she died. Right now I wanted to know that I wasn’t really like him, or that I could change, or something. Because I sure as shit couldn’t wish this night away.

  What was the right thing to do? If I told Yansi, she’d be hurt and probably dump my ass, and I woul
dn’t blame her. But maybe that was the selfish thing to do—just lay everything on her so I could feel better. Maybe the best thing would be to say nothing. But what if she found out later? She’d never trust me again. Hell, I wouldn’t trust me again.

  Not that I’d been completely at fault, but there was a moment when I could have stopped Erin, when I should have stopped her.

  And the fact that it was a girl that I’d taken on a date once, and who’d made no secret of wanting me—that made it worse. Although I don’t think there was anything that could make it better.

  By the time I got home, I was almost sober. It had taken me nearly two hours. I was tired, hung-over, and pissed. At Erin, at myself, at the whole fucked up situation.

  I dragged myself into the shower, shivering when I realized that the water wasn’t hot, but at least it washed the scent of Erin off of me. If I had to smell that perfume ever again, I’d throw up.

  I lay in bed, my body exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep. I kept going over it all in my head: should I tell Yansi or not? I mean, what was the point? It might make me feel better—or possibly not—but it definitely wouldn’t make Yansi feel any better. I’d always thought that confessing was a selfish thing to do. Yansi said that when she confessed to her priest it always made her feel worse because now he had to carry her burden. That’s how she put it. That must suck: having everyone dump their shit on you, week in, week out.

  I thought I could trust Erin, so it depended on whether or not anyone else had seen us. We’d been in an empty bedroom; I didn’t remember anyone looking in, but hell, the state I was in, I might not have noticed.

  By dawn, I still hadn’t made a decision. I forced myself to close my eyes, but was awake an hour later.

  The surf was crappy again, so I took my Tony Hawk and skated into town along the road as there were hardly any cars around. The pier was empty except for a couple of old guys fishing. I sat on the sand and stared at the ocean, wondering how the hell life had gotten so freakin’ complicated.

  Yansi was having a family day, and I didn’t know whether I was happy or not about that. Usually, not. But right now, I didn’t know how I could face her.

  I stayed until the beach started getting busy, then I dragged myself home.

  I spent the rest of the day doing laundry, which freaked Julia out. She kept making lame jokes about me not feeling well, until I snapped at her, and then she chewed me out and said I could do my own damn laundry forever. Then she ran up to her room wiping tears from her face. When she was still crying ten minutes later, I knocked on her door to apologize. In between her telling me to ‘grow up’ and then to ‘fuck off’, I worked out that Ben had dumped her. I guess he hadn’t been too happy with whatever had gone on with her and Marcus. When she told me to fuck off for the second time and then threw a book at my head, I took the hint and left her alone.

  You could say it was a pretty crappy Saturday in the Andrews house.

  Like a total pussy, I was still ignoring Yansi’s texts, deciding that I’d tell her tomorrow that I hadn’t charged my phone.

  Well, it seemed like a good idea at the time. But when Sunday rolled around, I spent the whole day surfing and hanging out at the pier, knowing that she’d have church and then be with her family again.

  The next day at work was sheer hell. I felt guilty every time Mr. Alfaro looked in my direction, and my attention was shot. He had to tell me three times how to stake the saplings in a mini orchard that a client wanted. I was supposed to be trimming back the surrounding eucalyptus trees to decrease the shade, but I don’t think he thought I was safe with a chainsaw. I was so out of it, I’d probably have cut off my own leg. In the end, he sent me to give the saplings a good watering—something I couldn’t screw up too badly.

  I still hadn’t replied to Yansi’s texts, and I’d deliberately left my phone at home today.

  When the day finally finished, I staggered into the house and climbed the stairs to my bedroom almost on my hands and knees. I felt sick to see that she’d blown up my phone with eight texts and 12 missed calls. I had a bad feeling about this, but I was too chicken shit to call her up.

  I decided I’d shower, eat something, then call her.

  So, I was slumped in front of the TV eating a grilled cheese sandwich with baked beans—yeah, I know—when I heard a car pull up outside.

  I assumed it was Julia, so I didn’t bother to look out of the window.

  But when she walked into the living room, Julia wasn’t alone: Yansi and Megan were with her.

  Yansi looked like she was about to cry, and Megan just looked … I didn’t give a shit how Megan looked—my eyes were on Yansi.

  “Is it true?”

  I froze, and she must have seen the guilt on my face.

  “Oh my God! It is true! I didn’t believe it, even though everyone told me it was. How could you, Nick? After everything you said about … about waiting, and it didn’t matter. How could you do it? With her?

  I tried to answer, tried to find the words, but all I could do was stare with an appalled expression on my face.

  “Yans…” I choked out.

  She strode forward and slapped my face, rocking my head to the side with the force of the blow.

  “Yans, please…”

  “I hate you,” she screamed, then gasped something in Spanish that I couldn’t catch.

  She ran out of the door and I started to follow her, but Megan blocked my way.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you. Asshole.”

  Then she turned on her heel, and the next thing I heard was the car screeching away from the curb.

  I sank back onto the sofa, nausea swirling in my stomach, my cheek burning from where she’d hit me.

  “I can’t believe it. My own brother.”

  Julia was standing at the door, her arms folded, a disgusted look on her face.

  “You fucked some skank at a party? Well, Anayansi has done the right thing dumping your ass. After everything Mom said to you about respect, and you turn around and do this.”

  “I didn’t!” I yelled. Then more quietly, “I mean, I did, but it wasn’t like that!” Frustration heated my voice.

  But Julia laughed coldly.

  “Really? You were just walking along and oops, you fell dick first into some girl.”

  “Pretty much, yeah,” I muttered, half to myself.

  “God, you men are so pathetic,” she grit out, her tone disbelieving. “Some slut drops her panties and you’ve all got your tongues hanging out. You forget you’ve got wives and girlfriends and…”

  “You don’t know what happened, so just shut the fuck up!” I shouted, leaping off the sofa. “You weren’t there! You don’t know what it was like!”

  “Did you fuck some girl?”

  I took a deep breath.

  “Yes, but…”

  “There is no ‘but’!” she yelled, pointing her finger in my face. “Guys like you are disgusting and pathetic. I can’t believe my own brother…”

  “You wanna tell me the reason Ben broke it off with you?” I spit at her. “Nothing to do with the fact you were like a bitch in heat every time Marcus walked into the room.” I laughed flatly at her shocked expression. “Yeah, I know about that. The difference is that I gave you the benefit of the doubt and didn’t go screaming at you, because I’ve seen Marcus in action and I know what he’s like. Not that he’d be interested in a crazy bitch like you. And you know what else? How the fuck Ben put up with your whining and complaining all these years is a freakin’ mystery. Guy deserves a gold medal. No wonder he dumped your ass.”

  Her face creased and I thought she was going to hit me, too. I tensed, ready to grab her arm if she did. But instead she sank onto the sofa and started crying; ugly, heavy tears that made her mascara run and her nose fill with snot.

  She looked so defeated and hopeless that I felt like a complete douche.

  I sat down next to her and tried to put my arm around her, but she shoved me away.

 
“I’m sorry…” I began.

  She cried harder, making weird choking sounds and wiping her nose on her sleeve. I didn’t know what to do, so I sat there listening to her cry, until finally it sounded like she was stopping. I darted into the kitchen and grabbed some tissues so she had something else to wipe her face with.

  She snatched the tissues from my hands and muttered a quiet, “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again, lamely.

  “I’m not,” she snapped, sounding more like herself again. “You’re still a jerk.”

  So much for an apology.

  “Yeah, well, if you want to blame anyone, blame yourself,” I said tiredly.

  “What?”

  “You’re always acting like you can’t be bothered with Ben; always telling him he’s an idiot or boring. I mean, yeah, he is boring, but no guy needs to hear that.”

  She stared at me, her face streaked with tears and mascara.

  “I don’t do that.”

  “Um, yeah, you kind of do.”

  “I love Ben,” she hiccupped.

  “Really?” I shook my head, “Well, maybe you should tell him that sometimes.”

  “I do!” she protested.

  “When was the last time?” I challenged her.

  She didn’t answer.

  “You treat the guy like furniture, Ju.”

  “At least I didn’t cheat on him while I was drunk at a party!” she snapped back.

  “Yeah, that’s kind of your fault, too,” I sighed, trying to rub away the headache that was building behind my eyes.

  “What?”

  “If you hadn’t told Marcus what a fuck-up I was, I’d have stayed to eat pizza with you that night,” I chuckled without humor. “I got so wasted because I hadn’t eaten all day; then I passed out. When I woke up, Erin was sitting on my dick. True story. So think what the fuck you like.”

  The truth was that I still did the deed so I had to take responsibility for my actions—and I should have manned the fuck up and answered my damn phone when Yansi called.

  I stood up tiredly and headed for the stairs, each one feeling like I was climbing a mountain.

  I lay face down on the bed, reliving the moment when Yansi had asked me, ‘Is it true?’ I’d had two days to think what I should say to her, but when it came to it, I couldn’t even speak. That was it; we were finished. And it was my own damn fault.