by Foster, Lily
“No.” I smiled, looking down and shaking my head. “This is what they call fake and bake.” He looked at me quizzically so I clarified, “Self-tanner? I figured my ghostly white skin might be scaring the rest of the lake-goers.”
Tommy ran the ball back then and asked for another throw. “Sure. You don’t need to run it in, buddy, just throw it back to me, ok?”
“I can’t throw it so far.”
“No worries, I’ll run in for it. It’s good practice for me.”
The three of them spent the next ten minutes tossing the ball, Jeremy getting a workout by running after their lame throws. He was patient and encouraging with them.
“Thanks.”
“For what?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at me as he launched another perfect spiral.
“For this,” I said, motioning to the boys. “I torture them for nearly two hours every day after they get home from school. This is a nice break.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Tutoring,” I replied in response to his confused expression.
“School in the summer?” he asked, curious, without making it sound like the concept was so foreign.
“Um, yeah. My brother goes half-days in the summer. It’s good for him…so that he doesn’t regress.”
He smiled warmly. “Spoken like a teacher, Carolyn.”
I shrugged my shoulders and smiled. I closed my mouth quickly then, remembering I’d scarfed down tuna on a mini poppy bagel on the ride over here. Tuna breath plus the potential for poppy seeds stuck in my teeth. Way to go, Carolyn, I scolded myself. Oblivious to my inner psychotic dialogue, Jeremy asked, “What school does he go to?”
“Tommy and Zach go to Briarwood Country Day,” I answered. The boys came running at us full-speed then.
“You two go to Briarwood?” Jeremy asked, surprised.
Tommy nodded his head happily but Zach cast his eyes down before he muttered, “Yeah.”
Jeremy asked excitedly, “Do you know Mrs. Mitchell?”
They both look at him, puzzled. Thomas answered, “Yeah, she’s my favorite teacher.”
Jeremy said, “She was mine too. Do you know Mr. Ramirez? I was his worst student. He nearly lost his mind trying to teach me guitar. I was hopeless.”
Zach brightened up then. “He lets us call him Diego. I’m his best guitar student,” he added proudly.
“Next time you see him, tell him Jeremy Rivers says hi. Oh,” he added, laughing, “and tell him I’m the lead guitarist in some hot, new alternative rock band. He’ll pass out!”
“But you’re not, right?” Tommy asked, speculating. “You said you stink at guitar.”
I closed my eyes for a moment and smiled. My sweet, quirky, he-who-speaks-without-a-filter little brother. When I opened my eyes, Jeremy was staring right at me, smiling. He looked to Thomas then as he said, “Right, dude. I just wanna mess with him.”
Thomas joined in laughing then, as if to say, Ok, now I get it.
Zach asked timidly, “You don’t go to Briarwood anymore?”
“No.” Jeremy gestured his head in my direction. “I go to Westerly with Carolyn.”
“So,” Zach pressed, “you went back to regular school?” He looked hopeful.
“Yeah, last year. I miss Briarwood, though. The teachers were great there. Best teachers I’ve ever had. Before I went there, I hated school.”
“I like it there too,” Zach nodded, agreeing with his new hero.
“Briarwood’s awesome,” Tommy chimed in, fist bumping Jeremy. “Hey, Jeremy, teach us to throw a spiral like you.”
“Tomorrow,” he said as he looked to me with a tentative expression. He corrected himself, “Or the next time I run into you.”
“Come on, stay, Jeremy,” they pled.
Jeremy smiled wide. “I really can’t. Gotta go see my Grandma and Grandpa. But I promise, I will teach you next time.”
And then Jeremy was pulling on his tee shirt—what a shame—and stuffing the football and his towel back into his bag. He twirled his key ring around his index finger a few times and then looked up at me and said, “See you around, Carolyn,” before looking over to the boys and saying, “It was good to meet you two. Make sure you say that to Ramirez, ok?”
They both nodded, giggling, and fist bumped him again before he turned and headed for the lot.
The next day it rained buckets…and Drew Skyped from Europe.
We talked for half an hour, me faking enthusiasm as Drew rattled off the minutia of his daily comings and goings. He looked the same—handsome, gorgeous really. Drew already had the look of a well put-together businessman by the age of seventeen. He looked believable in his crisp dress shirts, expertly trimmed hair and in his cool, blue, determined eyes.
Drew was over in Germany getting more exposure to his father’s business. His dad was like some ex-Navy Seal or something who now owned and operated a consulting firm that advised the government on high priority security issues. Drew didn’t share details with me but I got the gist that what his dad’s company did was something along the lines of fulfilling government contracts by running specialized covert operations. Very cloak and dagger.
Drew had it all planned out. Acceptance to Annapolis, five years rising through the officer’s ranks in the service and then moving onto the civilian side, joining his father’s very profitable company. Lately, even though we’d only been dating eight or nine months, he’d talk about his plans as if my inclusion in them was a given.
“I think Alexandria would be a great home base for us when I get deployed, don’t you, Carolyn?”
I’d laugh him off, gently trying to express that his assumptions made me feel pressured. “Drew…hello? I’m sixteen.”
“And I’m seventeen.” He’d tease back then, to lighten the mood. “I’m seventeen and I know what I want when I see it, Carolyn Harris.”
“I don’t even know where I’m applying to college yet, Drew.”
“I thought you were set on Georgetown? That would be great…less than an hour apart.”
“I’m not one hundred percent sure,” I said, standing my ground as we chatted with the distance of an ocean between us. “I really liked being at Yale this summer. I might want to stay closer to Tommy too.”
“Yale? Staying in Connecticut? That’s hardly a new experience, Carolyn. And we’d be, like, nearly six hours apart.”
Did he have some stored bank of knowledge, a detailed catalogue of the driving distances between all locations? Everything preconfigured? Yes he did. “We’ll talk when you get home, Drew. I don’t want to make any big life decisions just yet,” I teased.
“Two more weeks, baby. I miss you so much. I keep thinking about the night before I left…in my pool house.” I swallowed, blushed and turned my face away from the screen for a moment. He chuckled, “Did I embarrass you, sweetheart.”
I shook my head and forced a smile. That night we’d done more than we had before. His parents had taken us out to dinner at some upscale steak house. Drew snuck me a shot of something warm that burned my belly in an oddly soothing way before we got into the car. I think he needed something to ease his nerves too. Mrs. Oliver was nice, I guess, but Drew’s dad was formal, demanding—kinda harsh. Drew called him “sir” and that alone made it awkward to be around his family. Even his mother seemed a little stiff and wary in her husband’s presence.
My parents were more laid back and were openly affectionate with one another. When I spent time at Drew’s, I felt bad for him.
That night, Senior Chief Petty Officer Oliver was in his usual form. After Drew was pressed to give a status update on his Annapolis application process, I was grilled about my plans. I noticed that he scoffed slightly when I said neuropsychology. Drew chimed in to smooth it over, clarifying that I was not looking to be a therapist but someone who’s more like a doctor or a research scientist, studying neurology and the role it plays in learning disabilities. I felt like saying, Don’t defend me to this jerk. And what if I wanted to be a psy
chologist? Was there something the matter with providing people with mental health services?
We went out to the pool house after we got back and Drew collapsed in a chair, seemingly wiped out by the effort it took to deal with his father. He pulled a flask out from underneath the chair, took a swig and then passed it to me. I took a little sip in an effort to show solidarity with him. I really did feel for Drew. His father was stoic, cold and demanding. It would be hard to live up to his expectations. Drew was typically self-assured—bordering on cocky—except in the presence of his dad.
I sat in his lap and draped my arms around his neck as I kissed him. I wanted to make him forget. “God, Carolyn,” Drew moaned into my mouth. “Do you know how hot you are?” He pulled back a few inches and looked into my eyes. “You don’t even know and that makes you even hotter. You’re this sweet and innocent beauty that’s oblivious to the fact that every guy in our grade wants you.” He began kissing my neck then and said in between kisses, “But I’ve got you. You’re mine, Carolyn.”
I winced slightly at the mention of my innocence but didn’t lapse into self-recrimination like I usually did. Tonight Drew’s vulnerability and his words, his desire, made me feel different.
I repositioned myself so that I was straddling him and I unbuttoned the front of my dress. He slid the straps down my shoulders and cupped my breasts through the lace of my bra. Then he kissed me. His mouth felt hard against mine. It wasn’t the kind of kiss that unleashed butterflies in your stomach or set off fireworks in your mind, but it was passionate. I could feel him pressing against me as he rocked his hips up into me. “Does that feel good, Carolyn?”
It did feel good and I nodded as I breathed a little heavier. He had touched me there before and I had stroked him, letting him come in my hand many times. But I never came. At least I wasn’t sure if I had or not. Samantha had relayed, in detail, that her few experiences were earth-shattering events where her vision blurred, the stars aligned and her satisfied coochie sang a happy tune. I, on the other hand, had learned to whimper and moan so that at a certain point, Drew was satisfied he’d done his job well and he would stop.
After he slid his fingers beneath the lace of my panties and worked me up into what he thought was a frenzy, I went to undo his belt and his zipper. He leaned back, looking at me reverently as I slid my hand into his boxer briefs. I kissed his jaw and then down his neck as I worked him. “Fuck, that feels good.” As I moved and kissed along his collarbone, I felt his hand gently push on my head, urging me lower. I guess I must have stilled, hesitating for a moment, because he spoke again, urging me on sweetly, “Please, Carolyn. Please do this for me.”
So I did.
I hated it the first time I was coerced to do it and didn’t like it much more this time. Drew wasn’t him. Drew cared for me deeply, I knew that. But it brought me back to that night, alone with him in the woods. His hands fisted roughly in my hair, pushing me down onto him, not caring that I was just a kid or that I was gagging. I tried not to think about it. I tried to push the image away.
At one point Drew’s hold became a little frenzied and he began jerking his hips up into me. I felt tears prick my eyes as I went to move myself away from him. He didn’t notice. At that same moment he pulled me off him and rubbed himself roughly as his release spurted onto his stomach. He opened his eyes after a moment and kissed the top of my head. “Carolyn, that felt incredible. Thank you, sweetheart. I love you, you know that, right?”
I nodded and kissed Drew’s chest, not willing to look up at him; he’d see I was on the verge of tears. I collected myself as Drew cleaned up. He came back in and laid on a lounger, bringing me down to rest beside him, tucking me into the nook of his arm as he whispered sweet words to me and told me how desperately he’d miss me this summer.
I couldn’t get to sleep as I lay in bed, thinking back to that night. I did miss Drew but not in the way other girls seemed to truly miss their boyfriends. The boys they loved. The first night Drew said those words to me, I repeated them back immediately. It was only four months after we’d started dating. I didn’t know if I loved him or not. Did I care about him? Did I want only good things for him? Did I enjoy being on his arm, basking in the admiration of others now that I was officially Drew Oliver’s girlfriend? Yes was the answer to each question.
But did I love him?
The sense of wanting, the hopeful feeling I had when I wondered if I would see Jeremy at the lake the next day—I never felt like that about Drew. Thoughts of Jeremy kept me up late that night. I fantasized over what our next encounter would be like and then no sooner would guilt wash over me. It was terrible to think about Jeremy in that way when I had Drew. I was Drew’s.
The self-imposed guilt trip was pointless, as any ridiculous notions I had about me and Jeremy were squelched the next time I saw him at the lake—like a bucket of ice water being dumped over a few weak, smoldering embers.
By day three I was pleading, with no one in particular, for this godforsaken rain to stop. The only upside was that I was working on an indoor project with Denny in the meantime, giving me a much needed break from Beth Peterman.
When I finally woke to bright sun and a coating of sweat on my skin, I was pumped. Today was really hot and Dad and I were probably the only people in this town without central air conditioning. I didn’t care, though. The sun and the heat increased the likelihood that Carolyn would be at the lake. Hopefully she’d be wearing that tiny, blue-checkered bikini she was wearing the other day. Oh my lord, Carolyn looked good in that.
I was thinking about Carolyn all day, hardly noticing that—surprise, surprise—Mr. Peterman was home for once. The day couldn’t get any better; with her husband home, Beth had no choice but to ignore me.
I knew even thinking about Carolyn was stupid. But I wanted to be around her and I’ll admit, I was playing a little bit of a game with her. I knew that she got rattled when I was nearby and I liked that I made her feel unsettled. Everything about her seemed orderly, methodical and disciplined. I liked that with each passing day, Carolyn’s bikinis seemed to show more skin, her hair was down and more tousled, and that reserved, demure manner seemed to show a few cracks. I think I even heard her snort when she laughed at something her brother had said the other day.
She didn’t disappoint today. I was relieved to see her when I pulled up. She was standing on the grassy shore in a pink bikini, her brown hair falling in loose waves around her face. She startled when I walked up behind her and said, “You made it.”
“Hey,” she greeted, breathy, as she watched me strip off my sweaty shirt and drop it next to her towel. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Happy it finally stopped pouring. I’ve been cooped up working indoors the past few days.”
“Where are you working this summer?”
“I’m doing apprentice hours for a local electrician. He’s training me.”
“That sounds interesting,” she said sincerely.
I chuckled. “I don’t know if you’d find it interesting, Carolyn. But I like it. I like working with my hands.”
She put her hands on her hips in a defiant posture. Those hips were sweet. “Don’t assume anything about me, Jeremy Rivers. You haven’t been around me in a very long time,” she teased. After a moment, her expression became more serious and she asked, “Is it hard? I mean, learning all of that. I would think electrical work is very complicated…and dangerous.”
“I still have a lot to learn but I’ve been helping my father since I was a kid with repair work and carpentry. I’ve done some basic electrical work at the estate we live on, too. And Mr. Roberts is great. He’s a good boss.”
Carolyn nodded. She looked out at the boys and their friends playing on the dock and then practically whispered, “It is so hot today.”
I was tempted to tease her, asking her how she could be hot with so little clothes on. But I wouldn’t. She was too nice to make fun of. And I wouldn’t say a thing that might encourage her to keep her beaut
iful body covered.
“Well I’m heading in. You coming?” I asked her as I walked backwards into the lake. She looked longingly at the water but raised her eyes to me and shook her head. “Suit yourself, Carolyn.”
After spending a few minutes hurling Thomas and Zack off the dock as they laughed like pair of hyenas, I made my way back out to her. She looked like a goddess standing there…long, graceful limbs topped by deadly curves. As I came closer, I noticed she was twirling a lock of hair around her finger. I stilled for a minute, remembering her as a girl, the same nervous habit she had back then. It was stupid but I felt my heart swell a little, taking in that sight.
I came within a foot of her and shook my hair out, wetting her, making her squeal and laugh. I liked the sound of her laugh. “So, missy, Thomas told me your secret.”
“He’s a little rat. What secret?” she demanded.
I cocked my head and asked in disbelief, “You’re afraid of the lake?”
She giggled nervously. “I can’t stand how the bottom feels. It’s slimy!”
“You’re so spoiled, Harris. Only your clean, shiny pool will do?”
“No,” she protested, slapping me lightly on my chest. I had to resist the urge to grab her hand and hold it in place. Her hand felt too good on my skin. “I like the feeling of sand between my toes when I’m at the beach, Jeremy. I go in the ocean. It’s just the lake…I always imagine a snake or a viper wrapping itself around my ankle as I sink into that mushy yuck.”
“First off, a viper is a snake and there are no snakes in that water. And second, you don’t have to touch your feet on the mushy yuck at the bottom if you can swim.”
She screamed bloody murder when I tossed her over my shoulder and ran her into the lake. Everyone nearby turned at the sound of her shrieks and laughter. I lowered her when we were chest deep. I wanted to put some distance between our bodies because mine was beginning to react to the feel of her, but she freaked when I put her down, wrapping her arms around my neck tight so that I was holding her up. Goddamn, her chest was now pressed up against mine and I could feel her nipples hardening against me. This couldn’t happen. “I’ve got you, Carolyn,” I assured her as I created a slight distance between us, holding her up by her hips. “Wow, you really are afraid, huh?”