The Summer of Us

by Cecilia Vinesse

  Friday, July 1

  PARIS

  The champagne was, in fact, expensive.

  But also, it made walking easy.

  Walking was so easy!

  Aubrey felt like she was practically flying. It helped that Jonah was there, his arm wrapped firmly around her. They were in the middle of the place de la Concorde, brightly lit fountains on either side of them, and cars and motorcycles nudging their way around even this late at night.

  “I love Paris!” Aubrey exclaimed.

  Jonah smirked. “You love everything right now.”

  “That isn’t true. But I’ll tell you what I do love: I love tonight, and I love how shiny everything is, and”—she felt a swell of emotion—“I love you.”

  She tripped a little, and he caught her, his expression warm. “Love you, too, Aubs. Even if you won’t remember any of this.”

  “Hurry up!” Clara shouted in front of them. “Or we’re leaving you behind!”

  “Come on.” Jonah dragged her forward. The plaza led to a long, wide avenue with two rows of leafy trees running along either side of it.

  “This is the Champs-Élysées,” Aubrey explained. “I recognize it because it’s on the Internet. Also, because it’s super famous.”

  “Uh-huh,” Jonah said.

  “Everything’s on the Internet!” Aubrey slowed down a little. “It’s like I’ve been here before, but I actually haven’t.” Although, she had to admit, Paris seemed so much bigger than she thought a city could be. Bigger than London, even bigger than New York. Of course, she knew that wasn’t technically true. She’d been on Wikipedia before; she knew Paris was actually kind of small. But it felt true. Being here made her feel so close to the image she’d always had of her life after high school. It was glamorous and romantic and brimming with unknown possibilities. Aubrey could feel how important this night was. She could feel how it really was a beginning.

  Rae shouted behind her. “Clara says stop staring at shit! She wants to go somewhere.”

  Their friends sped up, so Aubrey and Jonah went faster, too, the colors of the city bleeding past them. They were on the part of the Champs-Élysées that ran parallel with two tidy, green parks, and then they were on the part crowded with flagship department stores and tiered restaurants. The sidewalk was just as jammed with activity as the road, but Aubrey wasn’t overwhelmed. Jonah was holding her hand. She could see Rae’s topknot and the sparkle of Clara’s dress.

  They raced all the way up the long boulevard, skittering to a stop at the roundabout that marked the very end of it. In the center of it all—larger than everything else around—was the Arc de Triomphe, an enormous stone arch that burned with light against the dark. Traffic spun and spun around it. The city felt as wide open as the sky.

  Clara propped her elbow on Gabe’s shoulder. “Amazing, right?” she said. “I thought we should see it up close.”

  Rae cut her and Gabe a quick glance. “Sure,” she said. “It’s rad.”

  Aubrey was watching them, too. Clara wore heels, and, for the first time ever, Aubrey noticed that she was almost the same height as Gabe. She noticed how glamorous they looked together. And how Gabe didn’t try to move away from her.

  He was staring across the road, the hair above his ears sweaty from running. “I bet you can see everything from up there,” he said.

  “Gabe!” Clara said. “You are totally, one hundred percent right!” She crouched down to adjust the backs of her heels and then quickly stood back up. Before Aubrey could put together what was going on, Clara took Gabe’s arm and pulled him through a brief lull in traffic, heading straight toward the Arc. Car horns shrieked and angry voices shouted through windows.

  “Damn,” Jonah said. “How does she do that without dying?”

  “Don’t you think they look great together?” Aubrey blurted.

  “Who?” Rae asked, looking warily at the constant stream of cars.

  “Clara…” Aubrey paused. “And Gabe. Wouldn’t they make the most perfect couple?”

  Rae’s head snapped away from the road, and her mouth fell open in shock—Aubrey wasn’t sure why. Maybe Rae was worried that she was about to say something stupid about Gabe in front of Jonah. But that wasn’t going to happen. Aubrey had finally seen a way for everything to work out—maybe Gabe and Clara liked each other; maybe, if they became a couple, any weirdness left over from her kiss with Gabe would disappear.

  “Seriously?” Jonah asked. “What makes you say that?”

  “They just—fit together,” Aubrey said. “And they’re both tall. Have you ever noticed that they’re the two tallest people in our group?”

  “And you and I are the shortest,” Rae said. “But I am so not marrying you.”

  Jonah watched them as they stood in the space around the Arc. Clara’s hair was blowing in her face, and Gabe grinned at something she’d said. The circle of cars was a tornado around them. It seemed like they were right in the middle of the entire city. “I hate to break it to you,” Jonah said, “but I know for a fact that Gabe doesn’t feel that way about her.”

  “How could you know that?” Aubrey said. “Have you ever asked him?”

  “Uh,” he said. “No?”

  “Guys!” Rae said. “Eyes on the road! Let’s go, go, go!”

  They shot across the cobblestones, hot car exhaust blasting against Aubrey’s legs. When they reached the other side, she felt a little wobbly from adrenaline. She fell forward into Clara. “Hey, drunky,” Clara teased.

  “I’m not drunk.” Aubrey fixed the sides of her skirt. “I had just as much champagne as everyone else.”

  “I know,” Clara said. “But you’re, like, a notorious lightweight.”

  “Holy shit!” Jonah scraped both hands through his hair, and he and Rae gaped back in the direction they’d come from. Aubrey turned as well, and her breath stopped. Because even though they weren’t on the top of the Arc de Triomphe, and even though she was still seeing everything at eye level, it seemed as if all of Paris was staring back at her. There was the long, vibrant stretch of the Champs-Élysées and, to the right, the distant, gleaming Eiffel Tower.

  Aubrey could have stayed there for hours, basking in the enormity of it along with everyone else, but she needed to do something first. She worked up her nerve and tapped Gabe on the shoulder. “Could I talk to you for a minute?”

  He pulled his eyes from the view, but his expression didn’t change. It was the same neutral look he’d worn around her since that night after the musical—the same one he’d worn at graduation two weeks ago and at the party at Jonah’s house afterward and every time he’d seen her since. “Go ahead,” he said.

  She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Actually, could I talk to you for a minute—alone?”

  She waited for him to ignore her or to say no or to talk to Clara instead. But he didn’t. “Over there?” he said, walking off to the side. Relief washed through her as she followed him. The Arc had low stone ledges built into its sides, and Gabe perched on one. Aubrey did the same, although she was careful to leave lots of space between them.

  “This is seriously incredible.” Gabe’s focus was fixed in front of him again. Aubrey watched, too—it felt like all the streets were rotating. Like the world had become a carousel.

  “It’s really pretty,” she said, placing both hands on the ledge. She wondered if she had it all wrong—maybe the city wasn’t spinning at all; maybe she was.

  “Do you remember when we had to dissect that fetal pig in Bio?” she asked. “And how looking at all the tiny knives made me nauseated?”

  Gabe knitted his eyebrows together. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

  “I feel that way now.” She gripped the ledge tighter. “Can you get motion sickness when you’re not the one moving?”

  “Sounds like you need a distraction,” he said. “Like that day in Bio. Remember I convinced you to skip class?”

  “We didn’t skip class,” she said. “You took me to the nurse’s
office, and we watched Marcel the Shell on repeat for forty-five minutes.”

  “Bryce,” he said. “That’s skipping class.”

  “Well, yeah,” she said. “But it sounds better when I rationalize it.”

  He scratched the back of his neck and smiled down at his feet. The night seemed to open up even more. Aubrey felt a tiny bit steadier. “And you made me watch all those old music videos, too,” she went on, “of that singer from the eighties you had a crush on.”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “What can I say? I was going through a Blondie phase.”

  “Right!” Aubrey let go of the ledge. “And I told you she kind of looked like Clara.”

  Gabe’s face flickered with confusion. “You did?”

  “Actually, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” This was going to work out—Aubrey could feel it; she just knew it. “I was wondering if, maybe, you have a thing for Clara? Because the two of you get along so well, and you’ve been friends for years, and you’re both—cute. You’d be really, really cute together.”

  Gabe’s smile faded. The movement on the road created a breeze that sent goose bumps up Aubrey’s arms. Only a few feet away, Clara and Jonah were laughing while Rae took pictures of everything. But their voices were lost to the wind. They seemed so far away.

  And Aubrey hated this—she hated the weight that hung over her and Gabe now, the way their easy relationship had changed practically overnight. She hated that one dumb, meaningless kiss could ruin so much so quickly.

  “Okay.” Gabe stood up. “Was that it?”

  “No.” Aubrey stood up, too, desperate. “Wait. No. I was just thinking, you’ll be in Oregon next year, and Clara will be in LA, and that’s not exactly opposite sides of the universe. And the summer’s not even over yet. There’s still time for something to happen.”

  Silence stretched between them, vast and terrifying. Making Aubrey feel like there was nothing to grab onto. Making her feel like she was about to be pulled into a whirlwind of night and noise and tangled city streets.

  “I think,” Gabe said finally, “we should get back over there.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re clearly drunk.”

  Aubrey took a sharp breath. “Like I told Clara. I didn’t drink any more than everyone else.”

  “Yeah, I heard what you told Clara. I was standing right there.”

  “I didn’t mean to piss you off,” she said, but there was annoyance in her voice. “It was just an idea.”

  “A pretty fucking weird idea.”

  “Why? Because Clara’s not good enough for you?”

  “Because it isn’t any of your business who I do or do not date,” he snapped.

  Aubrey’s face crumpled. She turned her head away so he couldn’t see.

  “Shit,” he said softly. “Bryce. I’m sorry. That came out all wrong.”

  She crossed her arms. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “I was just thrown by what you said.” He rubbed his hair where it had been clipped short. “Jesus. This really isn’t easy.”

  “But it could be, couldn’t it?” She took a small step toward him, still determined to say this. “I keep thinking about everything we’ve done together. All those Evil Dead marathons we used to have on Halloween. All the times you called me at midnight when you got bored with your homework. That doesn’t just disappear, does it? It doesn’t have to change.”

  “We’re going to college,” he said blandly. “Everything has to change.”

  “But we can still keep in touch.” Aubrey’s heart slammed against her rib cage. “And we can still be friends. Can’t we?”

  Gabe tugged at the collar of his shirt. Aubrey’s hands felt cold. But she had to believe it would be okay. She had to believe that he would say yes. “I’m sorry, Aubrey,” he said. “But I really don’t think so.”

  “What’s up, you two?” Jonah rushed over. “And what the hell are you doing all the way over here? Aubs, are you sick? You don’t need to puke or anything, do you?”

  “Everything’s fine.” Gabe headed toward Clara and Rae, leaving Aubrey and Jonah behind. Aubrey stood still, trying to understand what had just happened. Trying to feel it.

  “Oookay,” Jonah said. “You sure you’re all right?”

  Aubrey’s eyes were hot, so she blinked up at the Arc. She could see the smooth curve beneath it. And she could imagine standing on top of it, Paris a blanket at her feet.

  “Aubs?” Jonah touched her arm this time. And since she didn’t know how she could answer him, she kissed him instead. His mouth relaxed against hers, and his hands reached for the hem of her shirt. Her eyes were closed, but Aubrey didn’t feel like she was on solid ground anymore. She could almost see the millions of dizzying, twinkling lights beneath her. It doesn’t matter if Gabe hates me, she said to herself. It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter.

  Jonah pulled back, his expression hazy. “What was that about?” he asked.

  “Can we stay here?” She held on to him as if he were the only thing keeping her in place. The only thing that could stop her from falling. “I want to stay here a little bit longer.”

  6

  Rae

  Friday, July 1

  PARIS

  Rae, Clara, and Gabe stood across the river from Notre Dame. Jonah and Aubrey had stayed back at the Arc de Triomphe, where, Rae assumed, they were still making out. She leaned over the wall in front of her and looked at the Seine below, at its dark, glassy water. They’d been walking for over an hour, and her feet killed.

  “My feet kill.” Clara slumped beside her. “How far did we walk?”

  “It’s almost midnight,” Gabe said, “so—pretty far? I guess?”

  “Pretty far,” Clara whimpered. She pressed her weight into Rae’s side, her skin warm and her hair draping over Rae’s arm. It felt stiff and waxy from the recent hair dye. It reminded Rae of the way her own hair used to feel after a day at the beach in Georgia. Or maybe she was only thinking about that because the air around them smelled damp, the same way it used to when Lucy would drive them to the beach, all the windows of their old car rolled down. Rae’s limbs grew sleepy and comfortable.

  “Rose and I came to Paris a few summers ago,” Clara said, staring up at the massive stone cathedral. “Right before she went to college. My parents let us come by ourselves, and we spent the whole time pretending we lived here.”

  “In an old cathedral?” Rae asked.

  “In Paris,” Clara said. “Wouldn’t you love to live in Paris?”

  “I don’t know.” Rae considered it. “Maybe? I want to live as many places as I possibly can. What about you, Gabe?”

  “Not sure,” Gabe said, but Rae didn’t think he was really listening. His eyes were fixed beyond Notre Dame, and he seemed distracted.

  Rae wondered if he was thinking about Aubrey. She wondered if Aubrey had tried to set him up with Clara and if he’d totally freaked out. She wondered if maybe she should have done something to stop her. Maybe she should call Aubrey right now to find out what had happened. But—selfishly—she didn’t want anything about this moment to change.

  “Where should we drink these?” Gabe held up the bag of beers they’d bought at an all-night grocery store.

  “Down there.” Clara gestured at a staircase built into the side of the bridge. They walked to the riverbank, and Rae saw the tops of parasols, a few tall palm trees, and a line of flapping, blue flags come into view.

  “What the hell is all this?” Rae asked.

  “I guess we’re about to find out.” Clara adjusted her fascinator.

  They hopped down the final step and landed next to—a beach. But not a real one. It was a raised wooden platform drenched in sand and dotted with lounge chairs and umbrellas in the same dark violet color as the deepening sky. Even at midnight, couples and tourists ambled down the pathway by the river.

  “They put up actual palm trees,” Gabe said. “Talk about committing to a theme.”


  Clara kicked off her heels, climbed onto the platform, and lay down in the middle of a circle of chairs. “If Aubrey were here, she’d be so pissed at me right now.”

  “She would tell you going barefoot is a tetanus risk.” Rae settled on a chair, taking off her camera bag and placing it beside her.

  Gabe sat between them and checked over his shoulder to make sure there were no guards around before passing out the beers. A boat drifted past, its deck dripping with twinkling lights, and water splashing in its wake. Rae reached over to dig her fingers into the sand. Tetanus be damned.

  “All right.” Gabe lifted his beer. “Here’s to the first hangover I don’t have to hide from my parents.”

  “Cheers to that.” Clara clinked her can with his, and they opened theirs together, slurping the foam away before it could spill onto their hands.

  Rae held on to hers but didn’t open it yet. The air dipped and bobbed around her like water. She tucked a loose curl behind her ear and took it all in: the ornate carvings on the side of Notre Dame, the glittering colors reflecting on the bridge.

  “You know what we should do,” Clara said. “We should make a pact. We should promise each other that a year from now we’ll come here again and sit on this exact beach at midnight.”

  Gabe raised an eyebrow. “What if we all hate each other by then?”

  “We won’t hate each other,” Clara said. “Why would you say that?”

  “No, he’s right,” Rae said. “Lots of people end up hating their high school friends. It’s a statistical likelihood.”

  Clara kicked sand in her direction. “You’re both so morbid.”

  Their conversation drifted to a pause, and Rae heard water lapping against the concrete barriers. Gabe’s phone rang, and he shimmied it out of his pocket. “Zaida,” he said to them. “My parents probably asked her to check up on me.” He stood, brushing sand from the back of his jeans.

  “Tell her to throw us a party!” Clara called after him.

  He shook his head as he answered in Spanish, walking away down the beach. Clara and Rae watched until his silhouette disappeared past the palm trees, and then Clara turned back to Rae. “Okay,” she said. “You have to tell me. What was Aubrey talking to him about back there? And why did they both look so miserable?”